The Exeter Advocate, 1892-10-27, Page 2LADY CARAVEls, ;
Or Married AbOen tier Station.
Then creme Arley ReneOine's seheine, the
plan, thet he had brooded or for long
year. He was the etott of a lamer who had
het succeeded very well in the world, aud
110 heel vowed to sueceed himself. Ile had
studied the lew—he eras it keen, glover,
shrewd Mau; bat• hie tortime heti beeet
made by money -lending: His practice as a
lawyer brought him tato contact with
moneyed people, elm wine people who
wanted money, end he made the most of
his advantages ; he had aegoired an
enormous fortune. Hie meney-leral-
lug busioese eves carried on wader
another name in another part of the city ;
his pleat lira8 to one all his needy clients
to thie offiee, and hiageitia were enormous.
He lived for an objeut, and it was ambi-
tion. To hie leiteer serraw he hed uo son ;
but he was determined thet hie daughter
shottld marry ono whose poeition and title
should. shed their refloated glory o him.
To be the father of a mimeo, to st •,k of
his daughter as the Countess of Ce •wen,
was the height of his ambition—and ,w it
eves to be gni:tided.
CHAPTER III.
Arley Raumme had decided upon Sling
his daughter of the future that /1‘1 .!ted
her. Ile was not quite sure of he He
had. studied law in all its bratichen may-
• makitig in all its forms; but he he not
studied chanacter—bie daughter was 'Inost
stranger to him. She had been mat •eted
abroad. Iler mother died soon tte • e her
birth, and he, devoted to business, 1 el nob
oared to have a child to &street his .etea-
don, He lived thou at his chambert. But
when Rildred was seventeen he eve••., over
to Gornmny to eee her, aud was charmed
with her. He found her highly educated,
brtlliantlyaceompliehed and intelligent,
and, in his opinioa, she gave great promise
of a, beautiful womenhood.
She was not a lweutilul gite, but she was
sbriking and diet ieguished-looking. If one
entered A room fuli of people, and she was
there, her face would strike one first ; it
would be remetnlosted the tougest. It was
a Mee indiceetive of eapa,bility, Spanith in
its coloriug. Her grandfeeher was a
Spaniard, and 40mothing of the spirit of the
eld cavaliers of Spain had descended to her.
The hopes in which Mr. Ransome had in-
dulged became almeee certainties to him
when he sew his deughter. She must marry
well, a.ncl his embition nmet be gratified
through her ! He had no son. On this
darkeyed e.vire mee1 . develop the duty of
carrying out his schemes.
He smiled to himself as he thought that
on his book he had the tonnes of noblemen
who would be thankful for ie wife with
ouch a fortune as he could give Hildred.
He lead but to chemee amongst them, and
his choice fell upon the Earl of Caraven.
His title was the most ancient, his estates
were the larger, hi ti ruin was most com-
plete.
"1 could build op one or two more earl-
doms," thought the ambitious htvvyer to
himself. " Who says that money is not
the prop of the world ?"
He decided at once on taking a house in
the outskirts of London and installing his
daughter as mistress there. It was done at
once, and then Ma Ransome began to put
his scheme into hotion. He knew that the
young earl had come to the. end of his re-
sources It would all be plain sailing for
him now.
But there was oae person he had not
taken into &cement, and that was his
daughter. Re loud never cireerned of
anything except blind submission from
her: Now he began to ask himself,
"'Will she object?' Sbe had plenty of
character, plenty of spieit, life'activity,
energy. Would she eubmit to his barter
and exchange? Wonld she blush and
singe after the fashion of girls who are
delighted? Would she be pleased to be a
countese, or woalti she draw hereelf up in
diedein, and tell him alis was to be neither
bought nor 4old? He was doubtful
as to which it would be, and he, therefore,
approached the subject with some little
hesitation.
That same evening—for it was a rule
of Arley Ransome's to do quickly what
required doing at all—he told her. He
remembered it long years afterwards—as
did she.
It was a lovely June evening, and the
world seemed to be full of MU8iC and per-
fume. The sun had set, and dim mystical
twilight lay over the land, eushrouding the
river And the tall greea trees ; the birds .
seemed loath to give up singing ; now and
then a faint sweet, song stirred the dewy
air. It was one of those evenings on which
ib seems impossible to believe in anything
but what is good and true and beautiful,
when the dew and the flowers and the sun-
set tek-e our hearts and thoughts to
heaven.
Hildred had gone through the grounds
down to the beaks of the river ; she sat i
watching the color of the water change as
the twilight deepened. A tall beech tree
with superb spreading branches grew near ;
the grass was studded with white and
golden flowers. There Arley Ransome
found her the daughter on whom he had
built all his hopes of fame and fortune, her
dark eyes fixed on the tranquil stream,
her white hands lying listlessly oa her
knees.
" Hildred," sodd Arley Ransome, "
have something very particular to say to
you. 1 will alt down' by your side. How
gloriously beautiful the river looks to-
night !"
Hildred Ransome loved her father—he
was the only relative she had except a
(rouser', whom she had never seen—but it
was not with the ordinary love of a girl for I
her father. She had not quite made up her
mind about him. She watched him with
keen interest, and the sharp-witted, keen,
shrewd lawyer, who could frighten a wit-
ness into saying anything he wished him to.
say, shrank before the demk eyes of his
daughter.
She looked up at him now with aome
little curiosity, What had he to say to
her? How was it that the clear' gaze of
those dark eyes troubled him so greatly?
"Something to say to me ?" she repeated
dreamily. "You could not have chosen a
better time for saying it, papa. I never
cate to talk on nights like these; 1 tam only
listen."
"The brightese hope of my life has been
accomplished to -day, Hildred," he began;
"that which I home longed for has been
given me. I have been pleased proud axed
happy."
He Raw that her intend was awakened,
that her eyes brightened, She looked
earnestly at him.
" Pletesed, proud and. heppy ? That seems
a great deal, papa."
" Itt meana a great deal, Snared. To -day
the Ead of Caravan has asked permission
to Make you hia wife."
He had stretched the point ; but of what
servioe evnuld it have been to have studied
law if he had had to keep up to fade 7
If he had expected any demonstration of
delight he WAS disappointed, She made him
none, She did not blush, or look plearied or
displeased ; the cognition of her lace wee un-
broken,
•
"The Earl of CataVen. That is the gen-
*Mean I saW to -day, Papa."
" Yea, that was Xiord Caravel; end be
Wishes to mteke you leis wife."
• Bat how cam that be, Melee? He has seen
Me only tome, Why should he wieb to marry
me ?"
"That I °thumb say,• I:4141nd," he ane
ewered ; "I am better versed in law than
in love ; ouly repot what 1 have
told ;you. The earl wohes you to be his
wife."
The dark, eloqueut eyes travelled
slowly from his taco to the river, And
then Miele to the elevated, eager collate.
nature."
"And that le the dream p
of your life, pa,
—that I marry him?"
" That you marry one one who has title
aud position to give you," he replied. "Yes,
I have Mat my hopes on it ; that is zny
way to greenness, my ambition realized."
I lilted him very well," lam replied,
with an air of calm inesiug ; "ho is very
handsome. But I know little about him.
"Liked him 1" repeated Ma Ransoms.
"That is a cold word. I ceu telt you,
Hildred, that some of the loveliest; womea
in London would be flettered at receiving
attention from him."
" Then why does he not marry one
of those lovely women ?" she caked,
quietly.
"Because he has asked to marry you,
Hildred."
Sho thought for a, few moments iu
silence, and then she aid—
"1 should be a countess, I suppose, papa.
One of the girls from St. Roehe, our sehool,
became a eetuatess—every 011e envied her;
but her marriage was not a happy one."
" All marriages would be happy if women
eopected only a little less than they do and
were rational," he said hastily.
She knitted her fair white brow, while
ehe thought deeply, silently.
" The Earl of Caravan wante to marry
me, papa—did he say that he loved me?'
.1Gentlemen seldom speak to lawyers
about love," he replied impatiently. "This
is not a mere sentimented nousensicoe love
affair; it is of far greeter importance. Give
it your serious attention, Hildred ; put
aside all the nonseese."
Again the dark eyes wandered from the
rippling river to the blue eky, to the green
trees, the soft dewy grass, the sleeping
flowers—wandered uneasily, as though read-
ing something there that did not harmonize
with her father's words; then she 4poke to
him—years afterwards she remembered her
words.
"That le your dream'papa—to see me
Countees of Caravel'. Ten me—I have
been at school all my life, and I know so
little of real life—it seems to me that I
have done nothing but study—I have read
few novele, I know nothing of what people
call love, but you, my father, would not
deceive me—tell me, is love a needlees part
of marriage? Is it right to marry without
it ? Are people happy without it '
He made no answer; he could not look
into those dark, eloquent eyes and say what
he knew to be false.
" Because," she continued, "in thoeefew
novel° whioh I have read, love was the
motif, the pivot on which everything else
turned ; those who married. without it
were punished, those who had it overcame
every obstacle. That was all wrong then ?"
"Novels are °ray fiction Hildred ; you
cannot believe anything in ;hem "
" I thought they were pictures of real
life," she rejoined.
" Only ideal pictures ; and, as love hap.
pens to be a pretty peg on which writers
can hang pretty thouglets and words, they
make the most of it. La reality it is all
nonsense."
And those dark, earnest, eyes were raised
to his.
"You assure me of that, papa—that love
is nothing but nonsense ?"
A monlent's fancy, e dream of a batutiful
young face of dark eyes looking into his,
of sweet lips he had kissed with a fast
beating bort in the moonlight, came to
him. He drove the memory away. She
was looking at him with expectant face,
with parted lips and anxious eyes.
"1 ask you," ahe continued, " becamee I
say this to myself, papa—if there be no
need for love—if h•ve is only the poet's
dream and the novelist'e Chief resource—
why, then I may just as well be Countess of
Caraven as anythwg else."
" Most decidedly," he replied, with an
air of relief.
"But," she went on, "if there is a
reality of love, if love be needful for happi-
netts, do not let me merry without it. You
are my haler, my only friend—I appeal to
you "
He asked Heaven to pardon him for
answering such an appeal falsely. He
looked profoundly wise.
"My dear Ffildred," he said, "yea ex-
press yourself so oddly. I believe that
the greater part of what you read and hear
about love is the greatest nonsense --the
happiest marriages are founded on esteem."
"But I do not know enough of Lord
Caraven to esteem him," she replied slowly.
"Some of the happiest marriages," con-
tinued the lawyer, " ria,ve been when people
have learned to love each other after max -
rine."
" Then love does creep in before or
after?" she said.
"Possibly in many cases. The most
sensible way of looking at marriage is this.
It is a civil contract between two people
who can best make their way in the world
by going through life together—for instance,
a young farmer marries a girl whose dowry
enables him to improve his herrn, while her
education gives him an interest in it ; a
nobleman with an impoverished estate and
an ancient title marries a city heiress,
whose grandfather was perhaps a soap -
boiler."
She was listening in amazement.
" A civil contract !" she said, slowly. "1
thought marriage was a religious ceremony,
papa?"
"So it is, certainty, most decidedly. I
am only speaking of it from my point of
view."
"Is your point of view the same as other
people's, papa?"
"Alt sensible people have the same ideas
on the subject," he replied; and again his
daughter's eyes sought the lovely gleaming
river.
"1 did not think," continued Hildred,
slowly, "that marriage was a contract of
any kind. I had a different ides of it. I
thought it took place when two soula were
attracted inseneibly to each other, and life
became nobler arid better and higher
because of their love ; and I thought that
same love began in time and ended in
eternity."
Arley Ransom° looked inwonder at his
daughter.
"Hildred," he said, "1 hope you are not
going to turn romantic."
"1 hope not," she replied quietly, "You
have told me the truth, papa, and though
ib has astonished me, I thank you for it—
one should not have false notioes. I have
asked because it strikes me that it will be a
terrible thing to marry without love, and
then for love to come afterwarda."
The lawyer held up hie hands in horror.
m
Such a thing multi not be. Every
woman .with a well-tegulatted mind Imeed
her husbarat ; every husband in the same
way loves hie wife."
Theo, it I Marty the Earl Of Cietaveut
„mewe
now,” she said quietly, "1 hall tearntto
love lilm afterwards 9 ,
xi certainiy,” he replied, with u, Wish, thee
OA were not so earnestly sincere.
"I home not thought of merging," she
continued, in tile same earnest, simple tone,
" XOU oft, pap, there was nothing to Make
me think of it. There were no gentlemen
at $t, Roche, and I have beeo sobeset with
any books. I liked study. I like it now.
I like the idea, too, of being a countess—it
has 4 pleasant eound—' Lady Cereveae
And you are quite sore, papa, that 1 shall
love my—love Lord Caraeren after marriage,
if not before?"
"I am quite mire," he replied, with uu-
necessary fervor. '
Seddenly sbe looked up at him.
"Papa' " she said, "do yeti remember the
song thatI sang to you last night ?"
There's earthing half so sweet in life
as Love' young dream. ,
I remember it, Hildred, What
about it?"
"Why, what does it 'nom—nothing half
so sweet ut life ?" 11 .1 marry the Earl, shall
I have no Love's young dream '?"
His eyes drooped uneadly from hers. He
knew he woes deceiving her, and she trusted
so entirely in him.
"You ask me the most extraordinary
questions," he replied. "My dear Hildred,
you do expecb me to extract common sense
from novels and poeme ? I can tell you
what will be much more useful to you than
talking about love. As Countess of Caraven
you will be one of the most popalar !melee
in Loudon. You will have two magnificent
hornes—Ravensmere Coble in Devonshire,
a fine old mole and Holly House in town.
You will have diamonds to wear. You will
go to court. You will rank among the
peeresses of the realm. You will have
wealth, rank, fashion, gaiety, influence, all
an your command. You will be able to
gratify every wish of your heart. The
whole world will flatter you and pay you
homage. You will have all that a woman's
heart holds most dear."
"Except love—and that is to comeafter-
wards " she odd.
" dertainly. You seem to think a great
deal ef this same love, too, Hildred ?"
because I know, papa, that is
what seme women's hearts hold most dear."
" Quite right You will find alt that
kind of thing come quite Tighe, my dear.
Now what is your auswer, Hildred ?
She looked round once more in her
thoughtful fashion. The faille light gleamed
on the river. The faint light was dying in
the daffodil sky. The westward wind
stirred the green boughs ; the song of the
birds, the ripples of the river, the whisper
of the wind, were all repeating the refrain
of the song—
" There's nothing hall so sweet in life
As Love's young dream.'
What was it like, this dream that was to
come to her—after marriage, not before—
this dream that seemed to send poets and
novelists mad, since they wrote and sang so
much about it—this Mee for which some
considered the world well lost, and which
her clear-headed, sensible father said was
all nonsense 7 She would have liked to
know something of it. Love's young dream
—what did it do to the dreamers? Did it
make the world any fairer? She wondered
if there were people for whom the dream
faded and who were married afterwards.
She was so long silent that the lawyer be-
came uneasy; there was no telling what
answer she might give.
"Your answer, Hildred," he said again.
She turned slowly to him.
" I will marry the Earl,"she said simply.
He looked delighted.
"I shall Bee him and tell him to -mor-
row," he said. "Now remember, Hildred,
this is a very solemn matter. iou cannot
go back after you have once pledged, 'bur
word."
"1 shall not want to go back," she said.
"Ib is a fair destiny—why should I wish to
change it ? Countess of Caravel. ! When
shall I see him—the Earl—again, papa ?"
Arley Ransotne could not suppress a
slight pang of reproach. If she expected to
find a gallant wooer in the spendthrift Earl
she vvonld be woefully dieappointed. It
woulrl be best perhaps to prepare her.
"Very soon, and I am quite sure that
he will be pleased. But, Hildred, I
want to say something else to you.
Common people have common customs.
When Darby goes to woo Joan he eits
with his arm round her waist. Men like"
—then he grew confused, remembering
that men were alike all the world over—
"men like the Earl woo in a different
fashion."
" What is their fashion 9" she asked
quietly.
"They say little of love—they talk no
nonsense—they send princely presents of
diamonds and jewels—they prove their love
by actions more than by words.
I see." Then she added naively :
"Do you know, papa, I think I should like
what you cell the Darby -and -Joan fashion
best."
Her simplicity appalled him remem-
bering what the Earl had said -that he
would do his best to make her happy,
but that he should never like her. Arley
Ransome began to wonder how it would
end.
"Are there no Derbies and Joans in high
life, papa ?" she asked.
"My dear Hildred, high rank has great
responsibilities. Men like Lord Caraven
have something more to think of than
love—that is very well for schoolgirls and
beardless cornets. Try to forget it, and
think of the brilliant future that awaits
you as Lady Caravan. You will be a beau-
tiful woman, Hildred, and I shall see my
hopes realized in you. Then I may tell the
Earl it is all settled ?"
"Will he not say anything to me him-
self ?" she asked.
Now that she had promised to marry
him, be began to recall his face. It
was very handsome, indolently hand-
some; she thought it would be pleasant
to see those blue eyes of his warm and
brighten, to see the handsome face grow
earnest and eloquent; besides, she would
like to hear what he had to say. Her
heart beat faster as she thought of it, of
count° he would not call her "Honored
Miss," and kneel down as the heroes in old-
fashioned stories did ; but he would talk to
her, he would tell her why, from the whole
world of women, he had chosen her. Sweet
words would have a pleasant sound coming
from him.
"e will speak to me himself ?" the re-
peated plaintively.
"Of course, later on—not just now per-
haps ; he is not a bold wooer, your hand-
some Este, Hildred. You are euro to think
him teeerved e,nd dold ; in time all that *ill
wear away. Inlay tell him to morrow that
you accept his offer 9"
Yee," she replied.
And then, to her surprise, her father, who
who wee one of the moist undemonstrative
of men, bent down and kissed her.
"You have Made nee Very happy," he
said.
4' Why, papa, one would think yeti
wanted this marriage ! " she cried, "You
eeern vete, anxious about it."
" It
in my hope realized, Hildred," he
said gravely. "1 am very happy.'"
the he rose tend left her seated by the
river -side.
"Lady Caraven—Hildred, Lady Cer-
avert 1" She repeated the Words to her-
self ; they had a pleeeant sound, and 0 was
pleasant to think that she would be
coanteSs—pleaSaiiii to •remember that the
handsome young Narl had Pooght her in
•marriage. • Hew little she had dreamed of
this when she sat down by the riverside an
honr before
He would come to flee ber °lithe morrow,
there was UQ doubt. What would it be
like --this brilliant life in which gaiety,
&shim, love and happiness were all to
have their part? The lighb had died in
the western skies, the birds suit their last
song, the flowers were all aaleep, but it
seemed to Hildred Ransome ehat she would
never sleep again ; the restless beating
heart was ettrred for the Bret time from its
passionless rot n was fancy, of course—
all fancy—but the long, low wash of the
evavee certainly sang " Love's -Young
Dream." It must be fancy, bub the wind
did whisper it --
There's nothing half so eweet in lite.
"1 will go in," thought Hildred, " and
sing something that will. take the sound of
those words from me."
lb so happened that tho first sheet of
11111Sie she took up was Mrs. Jaineson'a
pathetic ballad, set to sweet, sad music --
have had joy end sorrow, have proved
What Life could give—have loved and been
beloved ;
X am. sick and heartsore
And weary—let me sleep ;
But deep—deep—
Never to waken more 1
The words strut& her wibh new meaning.
Have loved and been loved "—it was like
Thee kl a's song—
' have tasted the highest bliss
I have loved and been beloved.
This was not in accordance with her
father's assurance that love was alluonsense.
leat th.en she lead forgotten then these
. .
were poets writing according to diem lights
--ouly poets, and not to be believed. It
was perhaps a pity, after all, she thought,
that they—tlaose sweet singers—ehould
teach people to estimate things 40 falsely—
should try to plame love above everything
else—above wealth, fame, rank, title, gold
—when her father, a shrewd, clever man,
assured her that it was but nonsense—that
people were better and happier without it.
She fell; very wise, very superior to
these poets. Life had hig,her things
than love, she said to heraelf. Ie was
very well in its way. She, for one, was
quite content not to know it. .Lite
held duties—noble duties, noble work.
What was love but recreation? It was
very well for schoolgirls to talk of in whis-
pers, or for poets to write sweet, sadrhymes
about; but for men and women—heriather
perhaps was rigat—it was better to be
without it.
When this lover of here came on the mor-
row, would he mention love to her, or what
would he talk about? She sighed as she
rose from the piano, &Deering her that
she hati sung all sentiment away—sighed
with a sweet, half sad longing.
And then after all her trou'ole—after
singing to 'drive the words away—after
moralizing and trying to meke herself a
stoical philosopher at 18—she found herself,
as she went to her room, singing—
Oh, there's nothing hall so sweet in life
As Love's young dream 1
CHAPTER IV.
Hildred Ransome was engaged to be mar-
ried ; she was to be Lady Caraven, and on
this day her lover was to visit her.
Arley Ransome went off to business
early. The firat thing he did was to send
a note to the Earl, saying that all diffi-
culty was removed ; his daughter had con-
sented. The orgy thing remaining was
for him to ask her to mettle the wedding.
day.
Lord Caraven read it through, . then
crushed it ill his hands, and finally tore it
into shreds and threw it under his feet. He
had not brought himself to a proper state
of submission yet He would have given
the whole world to escape from Arley Ran -
some ; but the choice was plain enough—
.ruin, shame and despair, or marriage with
the dark -eyed girl who was "nob his style,"
and whorn he was quite sure he should
never like.
Then his thoughts veered round a little.
It would be pleasant to restore Ravensmere
Castle to its old prestige—it would be
pleasant to pay his debts—to feel the load
of care and anxiety removed from him—it
would be pleasant to take his place in the
world again. As for the price, be must pay
it. If Arley Rename would not save him
upon any other conditions, he must marry
his daughter. If the father was content to
give his child to one who honestly owned
he did not like her, surely he need not pity
her. Surely, again, if she were willing to
marry a man whom she had seen only once,
she herself deserved no pity.
The marriage should take place in due
course. The Rausomes had as it were
drawn him—nay, forced him into it. The
consequences must . recoil upon them-
aelves. In his own mind he considered
the daughtertquite as bad as the father—
indeed he made little distinction between
them. The union was to bo; there was no
further need for scruple. They wanted,
his title, he wanted their money. He would
be civil to them ; they could not expect
more.
On that evening Hildred Raneome re-
teived a letter and a ring, The envelope
bore a crest, and she knew at once that it
was from Lord Caraven. The contents were
short, but to the purpose ; it was not a love
letter, for there was no semblance of love
in it.
MY Deen Mrss Reetsamn —I have to thank
you for your consent to my' [then came a word
that had been carefully obliterated and
" wishes" written over it]. With your -per-
mission 1 wilt call tomorrow. I have sent
you an engagement ring—will you wear it ?
I am yours [here there was an illegible word]
ULRIC CARAIT]M
She laid the letter down with a sigh and
a Broil°. She had fancied that a love -letter
would be very different. She opened the
little parcel that accompanied the note ; it
contained a magnificent diamond ring—her
engagement ring. She placed it on her
finger, and the sun falling on ib made it
shine like fire. Still, as she looked at it,
her eyes filled with tears. She would have
likeditome one to put the ring on her finger;
although she wag engaged to be married,
and was to be a countess, she felt very lonely
and desolate.
Arley RA/160010 moiled when he Saw the
ring At least it was an earnest of good
things to come.
" Very nice, very appropriate," said the
lawyer—" really a ring suitable for the
coming Lady Gentofte." ,
The day after brought Lord Caraven
himself,
Thati interview was something to be re-
membered. Mr. Ransome, hoping to make
matters smooth and pleasant, had invited
hie future eon -in-law to dine with him, and
that he might not feel dull had lurked the
huntoroue and brilliant talker Mr, CarWey
to join thein.
It was well that he had done so, for the
actual presence of her lover seemed to strike
Hildred dumb. Shettooked at him when-
ever she found that he was looking else-
where, She thought him very handsome.
His indolent, careleris grade contrasted se
favorably with her father'a sharp, brisk
manner, he wondered why the Earl looked
worn and haggard. He woe only 21, her
father said. She wondered, too, , Why he
was nob more esspresee in his manner. He
took her down to dinner, and' the Only
Werth' they (Wilmer eel Was about the
Warinth of the day. During dinner, they
never •spoke, save for the moat ordinary
eivilitioa, When 4inAer was over, dee n.larl
evidently preferred the society of Mr, Car',
weer toe hers.
"Why heti he asked to marry her if he
net care to talk to hee 1" she P3oAct to
hereelf. " Ilow Orange it was 1" Then
bier fatter invited Mr, Caewey to have a
ganne of chess, and the Earl walked slowly
morose the room to where she was Odin.
He stood by her tilde, tall, stately, despite
his iatiolent grace of mariner. Her heart
heat What was he going to say e He
bent his head somewhat etiffly.
"1 have to thank you, Mien Ransome,"
he said" for honoring me by wearing my
ring." _,
She lookee up at him, and there was
emnothing in the °elm gaze of the pure oyes
botore which he ehrank as her father had
done.
" You wished me to wear it, did you
not?" she asked. "My father thought so.'
Certainly. I sin delighted."
Try as he would, he could not conceal a
soupcon of irony. She deteoted it aud
looked at him again. He bowed aud con-
tinued—
" I a.m fortunate indeed. I have to ask
you, Miss Rtensome, now that you home con-
sented to—to become Lady Caraven, to tell
me when—that is to say—what day will
ouit yoo."
"Day for what?" she asked innocently.
"A day to be mended on," he replied.
A look of rebuke stole over the girlish
face.
" You spoke of it so lightly," she said,
" that I fanoied you meant a day for going
out somewhere. You meant(' as if you were
aeking me to arrange a day for bou.ting on
the river."
" What shall 1 ,say then?" he asked,
smiling despite his annoyance.
" It is not for me to teleyou," etre replied,
in all simplicity.
He laughed aloud.
"Shall I say Loveliest, feirest '?"
With au eir of grave displeasure she roma
from her seat.
1' Lord Caraven, I will hear no more,"
she said ; "your manner does not please
me."
He longed to retort. "Nor do you
please rue"; but he was inerely a fly in the
spider's web—he could not escape. He fol-
lowed her. After all, he was a gentleman,
and she was to bear his moue.
"1 am unfOrtunate, Miss Rensome," in
haviug displeased you—pardon inc. I had
every intentiou of asking you the question
with all due decorum—pray permit me to
repeat it."
tehe was still so much of a child that she
was puzzled what to answer. Her manner
rather puzzled him too—it was so calm, so
soli -possessed. There was not the faintest
Rush on her face, no light in the grave,
beautiful eyes, no latent smile—there was
no little sera and graces such as sorely be.
long to a young countess-eleot.
"Do I understand you rightly ?" weld
the grave, sweet, girlish voice. Are you
asking me to deceit' as to my wedding -
I am indeed so brave," he replied.
"Then I must decline to do so—my
father will know best what time will suit
hire."
"1 understood from Mr. Rensome that
six weeks from now would be convenient,"
said the Earl.
LEEDS CO. MIRACLE,
A Story Centaining a Lesson for
Parents.
nee Restoration nit ;a Voung egkell Whoso
Conqitiou ands a liNtralltelL itt Thous..
ands of Cansatan Ithreugh,
*Wilful Neglect, but lit llguosonee otko
701111110 COUSeqUelke44.
(Brockville Times.)
The great frequency with which peke
sallow, listlees and enfeebled girls ere met
with nowadays is mum for genuine alarm,.
Ibe young gide of the present day ere not
the healthy, robust, rosy-obeeked lassiert
their mothers and grandmothers were
before them. On all sides one sees girla
budding into woneanbood, who should be
bright of eye, light in step lead joyous in,
spirits; but, alas, how far from this is
their condition. Their complexion is peke
sallow or waxy in, appearance, they are
victims of heart palpitation, ringing
noises in the head, cold hands and feet,
often feinting opens, racking headaches,
backaches, shortness of breathtand often
distressing oneettoms. All these conditions
betoken ailerons or emiemia,—or in other
words a watery and impoverished condition.
of the blood, whioh is thus unable to per-
form the functions required of it by nature.
When iu this condieion melees immediate
resort is had to those natural remedies
which give richness awl redness to the
blood corpuscles, (organic disease and an.
early grave are the inevitable result. It
wait In a condition closely resembling the
above that a young latly ire Addisen, Leeds
county, was when Dr. Williams' Pink
Pills for Pale People came to her rescue,
and undoubtedly saved her from prema-
ture deeth. This ease was recently
brought to the notice of the Times by
H. S. Moffatt, general merchant and
postmaster at Addison,of which fernily
the young lady in question is it member.
Mr. Motion bad read the numerous
articles in the Times regarding what axe
admitted on Ail sides to be marvellous cured
by the use or the popular remedy above
named, after all other remedies had failed,
and felt it his duty to tneke public for the
benefit of sufferers, the wonderful restora-
tion to health and atrength that had Miten
place in his own household. The young
lady in question is his adopted daughter,
and is some 16 yeame of age, a very critical
period in the life of all young women. She
lead been declining in healt}x for some time,
and tlae family became very xnuch alarme&
that serious remelts would eneue. Medical
advice was sought, and every thing done
for her that could be thought of, but with-
out avail, the treatment did her no good
and she gradually grew worse and worse.
Her face was pale ansi almost bloodless,
she was oppressed by constant head-
aches and her appetite completely
failed: When her friends had almost
despaired of a cure, some person who
had purchased Dr. Williams' Pink Pills
at Mr. Moffat' s store, and tested their vir-
tues, advised the'- use in the young
lady's case. The advice was acted upon
and Mr. Moffatt says the results were
marvellous. In a short time after be-
ginning their use a decided improve-
ment was noticed. The color began to
Her face did not change—no flush or return to her cheeks; her appetite was
pallor told that the words had affected unproved, and there was every indication
her. of a tnarked improvement of the
(To be continued.) system. After taking a few boxes she
was completely cured, and is now as well
Row To Cook a Mani. as ever she was. In his business
First soak your ham all night in water,
which should cover it entirely. Then set i; Mr. Moffatt deals in various kinds of
Pieprietary medicines, but says he haa
on the fire to hog. The rule for boiling a never handled any medicine that has
so given such universal setisfaction as Di.
ham is fifteen minutes to each pound,
you can easily tell by weighing to the exact Williams' Pink Pills. The demand ia
large and ie constently increasing, thus
length of time that it will be necessary to
affording the inost satisfactory evidence
cook it. When it is half boiled change the
water, and to the last boiling add a cupful that they are what is claimed for them,
a blood builder, nerve touic and genera
of molasses. When it is done set it to cool,
8,nd when it is cold enough skin it and put reconstructor,
it in the oven to bake unthe whole is held to be icuring diseases hitherto
til ncurable, and restoring
health where all other remedies had failed.
nicely browned. Sonia people sprinkle it
before putting in it the oven withbrown sugar, In view of these statements a grave re -
which forms a sort of glaze. Some epicures sponsibility rests upon parents—upon,
cook it in champagne just at the last, others mot hers especially. If your daughters are
suffering from any of the troubles indicated
in boor; matey lard it with cloves. An old
above, or from any of the irregularities in -
Southern cook had a way of covering the
cident to a °deice]. period in life, do not,
whole ham after it was skinned with a
you value their lives, delay in procuring
dough paste made of flour and water and ae
a remedy that will save them. Dr. Wil -
then putting it in the oven to bake. This,
hams' Pink Pills is a remedy that never
she claimed, confined all the juices to the
harn, and the results she obtained were fails in such cases, and is a certain specific
certainly delicious. for the troubles peculiar to the female
system, whether young or old. They act
Consumptives. Cheer up directly upon the blood and nerves and
never fail in any case arising from a.
You are not going to die if you will but
vitiated condition of the Meador a.shattered
exercise a little common sense, and spend a
paltry sum. You may be very feeble now, condition of the nervous system.
sitting bolstered up in the big arm -chair, Dr. Williams' Pink Pills are a perfect
but you may now throw tip your het or blood builder and nerve restorer, curing
such diseases as rheumatism, neuralgia,
don
an.d shout for joy ! • Miller's Emul-
partial paralysis, locomotor, ataxia, fee.
don of Cod Liver 011 will save you if you
Vitus' dance, nervous headache, nervous
take it according to directions. What you
need is good new blood and rebuilt tissues. Protraticons and the tired feeling therefrom,
the after effects of la grippe, diseases de -
If you take Miller's Emulaion you will gain
pending on humora in the blood, such en
from five to ten pounds of flesh with each
bottle. There is no use wasting words. A scrofula, chronic erysipelas, eto. Pink Pills
hint should be enough to a consumptive of give a, healthy glow to pale and sallow cam -
the fact that Miller's preparation of Cod plexiona, and are a specific for the troubles
Liver Oil SAVES. In big bottles, 50c and Peculiar to the female system, and in the
$1, at all Drug Stores. case of men they effect a radical cure in all
• cams arisingfrom mental vvotry, over -work
The Latest Improvement. or excesses of any nature.
"John, is the cistern full?" These Pills are manufactured by the Dr -
Williams Medicine Company, Brockville,
"It, rained all night, and its running
Ont., and Schenectady, N. Y.
over." • and are sold
only in boxes bearing our trade mark and.
"Then write on all the bills of fare noth-
wrapper, at 50 oents a box, or six boxes for
ing but distilled water used in this hotel.'
$2,50. Bear in mind that Dr. Williams'
Do not Believe It. Pink Pills are never gold in bulk, or by the
Do'
or hundred, and any dealer who
neural substitutes in this form is trying to
acbe c
ud you, and should be avoided. Dr.
that
anis Pink Pills may be had of all
Nervil
lets or direct by mail from Dr. Wil-
matis
Medicine Company from either
rubbin
mattess. The price at which these pills are
.takes a course of treatment compare-
aunt..v inexpensive, an compared with other
itself ought to condemn it Therefore cling remedies or medical treatment.
to the old ; suffer pain; avoid the use of
Nerviline, the most powerful, penetrating, The Villain Expelled.
Gazzant—Thereet a married man paying
and certain pain remedy in the world.
marked attention to Mrs. Bloobumper,
A Crushing Bereavement. Mrs. Cesemana (shocked but intensely inter-
ested)—You don't say ! Who is it ?
Sympathetic Friend—Dear me, old fellow I
I'm sorry to eee you in mourning—I hada' Gazzam—Mr. Bloolnemper.
heard—whom have you lost? liTave You Asthma?
last week.
Suburban Resident—Our cook—she left pg. R. sett/mutat, st, Paul, minn.,
will mail a trial package of Schiffrnann's
The summer Asthma Cure free to any engem. Gives
Comes e.nd brings with it aohing corns. instant relief in worst cases, and cures
Putman's Painlese Corn Extractor never where othem tail. Name this paper and
fails to remove cortia promptly, painlessly, Send address.
and, with absolute certainty. Try Putman s
Corn Extractor. Sure, safe, peonleileThe amount of land in the United States
,
that is owned by membere of the House of
At the mum= or Art. Lords and British syndicates would be
vitilliem 433e—You'd better givoyour surprising to most Atuericans, who believe
that Anecdote is owned by Americans. The;
paraAusnoltiteoTtritetthypo_unwg hmuabn fobreftore you go in.
aggregate hcows the inimense total of
William Ann—You might the break 20,844666 acres, or an area greater than
S
tatuary. all of Ireland 2 000 000 more than all of
&nide Treetop—I sermon folks do get Saatlaadi and mese than hall as 211120h all
excited. I notice half the Old statuee hs England and walea.—New rdrk -EAretki,
lost a head or an arm, Ilaltimore has just had'a convention of
• cemetery superintendents One of the sub -
Science is meet finding WO103 to comfort jeate discussed was the abolition of Bentley
the untorbunate, TWo doctors fella& oii an funerals ana over-worked clergymen Will be
ordinary bank bill enough disease gamut to glad to know that 'the taiperintendents be
kill sin rats, •lieve thoz Quietly izatilw egfOrtti,