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The Brussels Post, 1886-1-1, Page 2THE BRUSSELS POST. DICK'S SWEETHEART. Tyner slowly. '1 And, as for tomglit, W1141 One hILS fallen Nemeth the spell of an encliantrees, where is tbe time for ay serious reffeetionu? Theughti wee By Vie Author of "'Mamie Manyseuex," ,m „ Linn, Bmunsmo,,, „ htymobnity, adsinjliIrec.0!ult1 oly sit titill ' and 13.twa.." Bee, H Whore is Moe Weseyss ? " calls somebody, rushing frautioally through the room. " Seen her anywhere, step one? She's; wanted for the first iebbete; they are all arranged, only waiting for " She was here with ileums:le a mo. mut ago. Try the Bede anteroom he- yond." The little aube-room beyond, being tried, yields up its trussere. Mrs. \Yu- myss, gliding out from it into the more brilliant room outside, in a quaint lett seductive costume of eritasou-and•geld and literally hung with stjuins, askhi the mildest of toues if any one is look- ing for her, and is instantly captneed and carried off by the frantic youtig man to be posed in the coming ie/test, There are only four or five tabfetue in all, put on as little bits of light and colourine, seen through a gauze mist, to fluislinoff the play—pictures to repo. sent in living forte some already es en upon canvas, but which will live for ever. They are 631 exquisitely among. ed o celebrated IL A., a Irietal of her Grace, having taken them in hand, amt all are exquisitely portrayed. As the velvet curtains part, and Do- s. in a gilt frame, stands revealed in alt her sad beauty, a thrill of delleht rune through the audience. To ulauy o them she is unknowu, and to them her sweetness is a revelation. But through Miss Maturin there 111118 a shiver of unexpressed agony. She sinks haekiu her seat, art though elte would escape from the vision before lier, and at last a few incoherent words are forced from her. " Oh, no," :she murninrs indistinctly— almost timotheciously ; " they shoeld not have given her such a part OS ChM— no, uot that " Her voice, subdued though it is, is miserable, tied StriMi4 1.1120t1 Mr. V- y ear, who happens to he her 1.10a1.t.tit neighbour. Glaucitig at her, he notices how thoroughly isuetrung she looks, and what au ashen pallor has overspread her face; and, with a desire for a more minute criticism, he again tutus his gaze to the representation before him. Dolores as " Adversity" Alas, how the character wets her 1 It seems as though the feeling of it has sunk iuto her very soul, so sadly resiguell she looks, so replete with geutle melancholy. Leaning against a wall, with her 11100011- ful eyes looking straight before her lute a possibly happy peat now gone for ever, with one soft arm upraised. and a pale bunch of flowers in the small clinging lingers, with a divine resignation upon her perfect face, she appears before them all, more sweet, more sorrowful than words can tell. " It is horrible!" mutters Miss ela- turin through her pale lips. 11 A mere bit of exceedingly pretty acting, after all," says Vyner cheerfully. " Dear me, how wouderfully well she looks the part I Rather spoils the effect to think how she will be laughing over it in a minute or two—eh? " He feels a strange tondernese towards the woman beside hire as he notes her pain, and tells himeelf how she cannot endnre even in imagination to see her darling so distressed. " Yes, yes, no doubt!" says Miss Maturin, recovering herself with an et. fort. " It is odly that I cannot bear to see her look like. that." She draws a heavy breath, and turns her head with a smile that is almost tragic to her companion. This &lenge of position brings hor glance towards the other side of the room. She raises her eyes -- And then all at once she is unaware of Vyner's vicinity. The very walls of tho room seem to fade away from her ; the mite of twenty years are pushed aside ; there is nothing now in reality but the earnest piercing gaze of two dark eyes. The owner of them bows to her. Af• terwards it seems impossible to her; butin truth she does return the salute. How many years have come and gone since last she and this seraneer—who still is not strange—thus gazed"at each other, and to what a time his presence carries her back—to what miserable hours, what moments fraught with shame 1 Once hi that terrible past this man bad lived in the old village where hor home had been, where she and her sister had dwelt. Great Heaven, how it all comes back 1 First the happy, quiet. quaint old days, with no disturbing elemene, with no griefs, if no great joys, in them — days perhaps now the bitterest of all to dwell upon and then the break-up of the mins household, her flight into Egypt, as it were, and hor fond vain hopes that all who know of her or hers tb‘n might haply be dead ere hor rebore to Eugland ; and lastly the retern, and with it now the discovery that, after seventeen long years of silence ned growing blessed forgetfulness, ono lives who i here smiling at her, resuemberhig as he smiles no doubt, and estily to betray, as ever 1 BMW 1 .1. (1101 WOIlla)) It 3. o .4 Nothing like getting oue's things from to good place, 81 180 all I A. good place—a good price ory sumo. But, tut—non. sense! cry I. What dogs a penny or two matter wore or less, BO long as oue is pleased? Dearest heart, you (000 100 sweet a thing as over eye did rest upon 1" 6' You think he will like me—that if; It ?" asks Dick's betrothed, with au anxious air and a conspicuous blush, and an elaborate gesture towards her gown. "11 ho doesn't he ought to bo ashamed of himself 1 But even the doubt wrongs him." Then she grows silent, and the fond appreeiatiou of the beautiful girl before her dies from her eyes, and she seems lost in a painful reverie. " So long ago it seems," she says ; " and yet to -night 10 18 so near. Just iu 51)011 0. gown I have seen her, with those very pearls around her neck 1 I ain thinking of your mother, child—your counterpart —and all the past rises within my 'matt and fins MO with dread." " With dread, auntie 1" " Ay, child! Hass any one lived a lifetime to find no dread in their pees? half my fears are imaginary, as they always are. Lot us forget them." "1 ant like my mother, thou ?" says Dolores, looking at herself mace more very earnestly ill the long mirror. " Straugely like I Yet I think I neve,: noticed the resemblance so much be- fore. What is it "—impatiently -1. that brings back to me the past to -night with such terrible vividness? 1 sown to hear and feel and see, as though it were before me, all that should bo forgotten I Is it a nreientiment of evil ?" Ttion, seeing the girl's meet inquiring look, she checks herself by a strong effort aud sinks into a chair. " Tut I What a brain I have 1" she says, with a light laugh. 1. Does it ever rest, I wonder? Come, darliug; the carriage will be round mom Come to the library, and. have some tea. before starting." CIHAPTE II XVI. The theatricals at the Castle are like all other theatricals, neither better nor worse, with one gtese—nay, startling exception. It is given to Audrey Pon- sonby positivelyto electrify her audience by a display ot histrioeie talent that, with culture, might make her fortune on the stage, and is only too good for a private performance. From first to last she is the one per- son who claims and holds a hushed and undivided attention. Her beauty alone —undispnted as it is—would not suffice for this • there is a t000h of insolence about her face that accords well with the character chosen and. raises her far above all her compeers. Some old play was selected, after all, in which kings and queens and all the mightiest of the earth hold chief parts, and Audrey, in her white -and -gold dra. peries, which seem to cling to -her and make one with her slender exquisite shape, looks like a queen indeed, with a golden crown upon her head and gold chains hanging from her gemmed girdle, and all her beautiful hair let loose to hang far below her waist in a waving glittering mass. There is a restless fire in her eyes, and a stratige pallor on her cheeks. She enacts her pert—almost indeed. crea- ting it --with a rortv,, a passion for whiles no one there is ab all prepared. Some are subdued, some a little shocked, all are fascinated. A more titter tranefornice (Won than has taken place in her could hardly be conceived. The girl, so haugh- ty and re -served in ordinary life, hes for mice thrown aside all constraiut, and is in turns a fond impassioned woman, a queen stern and offended—a being made meek by love's power, made mad by jealousy. She holds every brain captive while she stands upon the mirnie stage. And now it is all over, and, glad, radi• ant. she passes away from the plaudits chat s. follow her, her bare lovely 'trine :died with flowers. " To 10)0(410 15 alreest an impovtinence 10 0,1: :woe" says Vyner, going forward to . her LIB she euters the green -room ; e ye. 1 uust speak or die I Yen were pie t ou—that rarest of all things Let. lee seingraissiate you." " IVIS dad Jeols,int 100 100? Had he a good place ? Was he pleased?"sasks she hurriedly, iguering his words as thenell unheard, peel speaking with an intensity of loegem that betekesie her desire to got affirmations to all hoc !me:Aeons. Plainly her whole soul is in them. " Yes ; lie could eee you. And he sasi pleased, I know. Ouse when yen were more than usually pathetic, J. Ha, iV in hie eyes." " Dear dad !" says the girl, preesing her flowers to her bosom, and whisper ing his name very softly. " He taught (no my pat," she says, looking up at Vyuor ; " I used to say it over and over asesiu to him every morraug. Slush trouble as lie took With me I Btit now 11101,8 "—stalling—" he tideless this last pupil of his has not disgraced him, Did 1 really got through it well? What did —you think of ?" The excitereene of her 800(1088, t110 00101 11011 of the applause hi tii1 with her. She has rese yet gone 1)1101) 40)1010 to the old rt•fit•rVe. There is a distinct touch of coquetry in her benutilul eyes as she JusIf t001805 them to his thud glances at hilts from under her long lashes. " Por years I have been trying to an - awe.: 0110.1 111104100 satiefesseorily to iny. sod w;t1iont the 14114',ohmg.( It. ' venliee Oh, the cruelty of it—the ratter iraolty of it—to escape for so long, to bo at last undone 1 Like the lost spirits n the shades, she has been for ever 'grasping after the waters of obliviou, seid, like them, her eager hands have !oiled to seize them. And still Dolores stands there a too perfect "Adversity " — a thing most 000,11tifUli but to lier—Miss Maturin— positively repellent. flow has the girl :aught that mournful expression? Is it only aebing, or is 11 real—the faint grow. ing shadow of what will one day rest ern her face for ever ? A desire to use and cry Mena to her, to commend her to cast from her this miserable ....... '•••.1"11 ^ that moa trauell tier, anueet overcomes Niles Antrim. She conquers herself however; but, ob, the relief of 11 when the curtains aloe and the.pretty drooping tore and tad fo.eo.are hidden away behind it, and the can lean back ou her chair and lose herself in a seinfinsonsibility that yet is aotstrong enough altogether to Irill the terrible thrilling sense of pain that runs all through 111 The other &draw, are unseen by her, although hor open eyes appear to rest upon them. She 18 hardly awake to anything going on arouud her, until two soft hands are laid upon her :shoulders, and Doloree, Mad tam more iu her olinging lace gown, stuope over her with a little low happy laugh. "So far, so good." she maps merrily. " Busiuese first, you know, and pleasnre afterwards. Nosiness is at an end, and now for the other thing. Well,Lallie, and what did you think of your lovely niece to -night ?" She laughs again saucily, and pats Mites Maburin's shout. det, " Did I look sufficiently forlorn 1" she able.; gaily. "10 was horrible I" says Mists :Slaturin huskily. " You mut never do it again, (Mild—never! Do you bear ?" 11 Why, my succees then has been a genuine one 1" exclairrie Dolores, with a bright laugh. "I have positively im- preseed you," " Are you really happy, darliug," asks eTiss Maturin, with 0001008 ilTeleva lleo, ta;lirf.ning her han(1 convnleively upon the Lirl's liw;ors—.. quite happy 9 There is nochiug--no thought or fear of cowiug evil—no—' "Really happy, bailie," says Dolores, turning lieu litiee band, palm upwaras, within Miss Maturin's and giving hors a loving squeeze. " 1 neVOT felt RO sure of being he spy as I do to-uight. The very sweetest lock will attend me—all good :elates are near nte; I feel it—I know 10 1' She tures a radiant glance iipon her emit, and a blush of pere youth aud enjoyment issues from her lips. " Ah, Mr. Vyuor," she cries, catching sight of hini—e you again 1 Whenis the dancing to commence ?" "Almost directly, They are giving a few minutes to Lady Gertrude to change her these; sho was iu the last eddewe How d'ye do, Mrs. Drum- mond? ()harming affair all through, wasp% it 9" " I am not a judge perhaps," says Mrs. Drummond suleninly, who, with her friend and rather doubtful ally Mrs, Dovedale, has drawn close to where he is standing, " but to my eyes the—the exhibition of to -night was extremely PR'i'llYfuolu•" — you forgot your glasses?" asks Vyner, a little uncertainly perhaps, but with unquestionable politeness and the gentlest regret. "It was 1:10 question of glasses,'' says Mrs. Drummond, reddening rather furi- ously. "I can see perfectly, Mr. Vyner, without the aid of art—a face I never had reason to deplore until tonight." " You mean to tell me that something occurred sufficiently distressing to make you wish yourself blind ?" "Perhaps that is putting it a little strongly,' objects Mrs. Driunmend ; "bub this much I can say, that, when I find myself forced to witness the for. ward conduct of—or people with whom I am on speaking terms, and of whom I would wish to have a better opinion, I confess it both shocks and grieves me." "People!" echoes Mr. Vyner anxious- ly. " How many of them 9 Have the whole lot of us sunk in your esteem? Must I too consider myself undone? Forward,' did you say? Oh, I hope I wasn't ' forward' 1" " \Vhen the word ' people ' (41)si me, I spoke unadvisedly," correms Ales, Drummond, still on the solemn . ask; "though it was through a kindly desire to shield one of whom we all know that I nsed it. But sometimes kindness is mistaken. Had I given utterance to the word 1 person,' I should have been nearer my real meaning." • Oh, yes, much nearer!" murmurs Mrs. Dovedale sweetly. "Bless me, this is terrible'!" exclaims Vyner. " I had no tea Lady Gertrude had so offended against good taste as to convey to her audieuce the impression of being bold and forward 1 Forward? Yes; that was the word, I think. I ani sure, Mrs. Drummond, were the Duchess to hear yon disapproved of her daughter's conduct, sho world be—" " Grossly offended—with Lady Ger. trudo," puts in Airs. Dovedale mildly from behiucl her fan. "Oh, pray hush 1" °armee Mrs. Drummond, looking fearfully around her—Mr. Vyner's tone has been in no wise subdued. " !low conld you hoagies I was alluding to dear Lady Geetrutle, who is iu all respeots whet a gentle- woman should. bo ? No; I was speaking or Miss Ponsonby. Her dress, her um maidenly attitudes, her evident and very distressing craving for admiratiou, her boldness and effrontery, all pained me to the last degree I" " We could all me that," murmurs her friend, in her sort childish treble, "We all noticed yosir open distress and your brave efforts to couceal it—effects so great as to realm you look at times earnest out 01 10101)00 You see how one Ruffen for oneee good actions! But then, fortunately, we all know you,'' says *Mrs, Dovedale, with a sweet little caressing smile, " and exactly how you felt." "How grieved Miss Ponsonby 'would be were she to hoar this I" says Vynei. pathetically, "10410 opinion, Mrs. Drnni • mond, weighs with her so much that 817 adverse word from you svould, I think, COMBO her to feel deepait." The concern upou his faoe is deal. and earnest, yet Mrs. Doveciale's infism tile glance, turning quickly upon him. grows sbarp. " I am BUM you agree with all I have stale," goes ohMes,' Drummond heavily —" you, who so well know what a true Indy should be "—hr she oasts BRUSSELS PUMP WORKS. WILSON 6, FELTON' Take much pleasure in announc. jng to the people of Brussels and surrounding country that having Purchased the Business of Mr. C. Fike, on Mill Street, opposite Mr. P. Scott's Blacksmith Shop, they will keep a Good Supply of PUMPS ON RAND And are prepared to fill all orders at Reasonable Prices. Repairing neatly and promptly clone. Please call and exainine our stock before purchasing elsewhere.. WILSON & PELTON. 15—tf. MONEY TO LOAN. Markey to loan 03.110.111) property at J.JOWEST RATES. PRIVATE AND COMPANY FUNDS • W. B. DICKSON, Solicitor, Brussels, Out. Money to Loan. PliIKITE FUNDS. • $20,000 of Pe.vate Funds have just been placed in my hands for Investment AT 7 PER CENT. Borrowers can have their loans complete 7• three days if title is satisfactory. Apply to E. E. WADE. STOVES. 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Straight Loans with privilege of re- paying when required. Apply to HUNTER, Div. Court Clerk, Brussels, NOTICE. The undersigned still keeps on hand the Genuine Bell Organ Of Guelph ; New Raymond Sewing Lachine. He also keeps the Pest GRAIN GRINDER In the World, STRAW CUTTERS, Large and Small, ROOT CUTTERS, At prices to suit Purchaser. BARN TRUCKS, CLOTHES WRINGERS, or Anything you want, except money. G OPPOSITE TOWN HALL Brussels, Dec. 10. BRUSSELS WOOLEN 'MILLS. I beg to inform the fanning com- munity that I am now prepared to take in Carding, Spinning, And Weaving, at my New Brick Woolen. Mill, and promise to give Satisfaction to those favoring us with their trade. I have on hand and will keep constantly in stock a full as- sortment of Cloths. Flannels, TWeedfi. nruggets, Blankets, Vorns, knitted Goods, Dress 00058, Cotton ShirtIngs, Grey Cottons, &e. Also Fine Canadian Tweeds, PANTINGS & URGES for Suits which wo will get made up on short notice and a good fit warranted every time. Highest Market Price PAID FOR B6TTER EGGS, 4^e. GIVE ME A CALL at my New Mills before going elsewhere. Geo. Howe.