The Herald, 1907-08-30, Page 3r�
�E�
"Are you sure it is impossible?" asked
.Mrs. Bayley, sharply.
"Quite sure. I never intend to see
'Colonel Fane again, 7f 1 case help it!
Wily did not Sir Frederic warn me be-
fore? I don't want to quarrel withCol-
onei Carrington, but had I known his
eonnection with my husband—
"You would have had nothing
to do with him, and quite right,
, too. Believe me, my dear, you
will come round to my opinion, and the
opinion of your friends in general. You
owe it to yourself to sue for a divorce.
.An to poor Sir Frederick, henever thought
of mentioning this man's intimacywith
your husband, until he was going away;
and then he was so full of you that he
mentioned it to me;"
"There is no harm done at all events,
In any direction," said Mrs. Fane, cold-
ly; "but I think it will be as well if I
let' Colonel Carrington know I am aware
of his friendship with my husband, and
more, that his intervention will be use-
less."
"Certainly," returned IVere. Baylileya
with. emphasis. "You would be quite
right."
The day after this conversation was
dull and wet; but Carrington was not
sorry to spend an hour, perhaps two, in
the pleasant, quiet atmosphere of Mrs.
Fane's drawing -room, perfumed as it us-
ually was by hothouse flowers. To -day
a bright fire glowed in the grate, and
Mrs. Fane had eatablishbed herself and
a piece of high -art needlework on a sofa
near it. She was alone. Mies Onslow had
some visitors, and Mrs. Bayley was in-
demnifying
ndemnifying herself for a bad night by
a long afternoon sleep.
At first the conversation flagged. Mrs.
Pane seemed preoccupied. Carrington,
who had drawn a low chair near her,
wattghed the motion of her deft fingers
in silence.
"Is it true," she said, suddenly looking
up, "that you know my husband?"
"It is," he returned.
tPo you know him intimately?"
'think I may say 1 do."
h have known him since he was in
before."
dropping her work in her .Lap.
o d friendship, then. Perhaps
to you of me?"
u ilii' not receive a fav-
4f ane?"
ng up' aSkein of silk,
entangle it. Mrs. Fane's
a smile played. over her
of :come here,. then, prepar-
ke friends with me?"
e here," said Carrington, "tat -
prepared for—for what awaited
x•
ta'expression struck Mrs. Fane as pe-
Jliar.
"You did not expect to find your
friend's wife?"
"Certainly not. I should never have
sought her."
"Ahl I understand!" A pause. "Col-
onel Carrington, may I ask you a few
questions about my husband? A little
curiosity on my part is excusable; is
it not?"
"I may answer any question you
would ask," returned Carrington.
"Tell me," hesitatingly, "is he well
and happy? I mean contented with his
life?"
"On the whole, I believe he is now.
He has had lots of work, and is steady
enough. At first be was a little reckless.
Of course he is not as young as he used
to be."
"He is not old," said Mrs, Fane, very
thoughtfully.
"About my age. I suppose." replied
Carrington, looking keenly at her.
"Oh!' I imagine he must be younger,"
returning his gaze calmly, critically..
"I look older than I am," saki Car-
rington, smilingly.
"Pray excuse me! I do not want to pry
into Colonel Fane's life. I do not feel I
have any right to do so. Nor am I dis-
posed to be harsh or unfriendly towards
him; but our position is peculiarly un-
fortun{tte and difficult. Nor do I see
any way out of it."
"That," returned Carrington, speaking
emphatically, "depends on the view you
take of certain questions. A divorce is
by no means impossible."
"I strongly object to being dragged
through the mire," she said, with
some hauteur which became her
very well. "May I tell you my
story?" he continued. "It is well to
know both sides."
"I shall feel honored by your confi-
dence," said Carrington, with much feel-
ing.
Mrs. Pane, leaning her elbow on the
end of the sofa, and her cheek on her
hand, turned slightly towards him, a
dreamy, far -away look in her eyes.
'You have probably heard the' out-
lines of the history. I was very young,
an orphan, rich, ignorant, I fear arro-
gant. My aunt, under whose care I
was brought up, spoilt me, yet worried
me with small restraints and perpetual
espionage. She was very pleased to
marry me to Mr. Fane; he was a lieu-
tenant in the Guards then; especially as
he was to be Earl of Milford when his
uncle died. As to my own ideas, I can
hardly tell what they were. I must be
a totally different creature now from
what I was then. I liked the notion of
being mistress of my own house and
free from my aunt's rule. I don't think
I cared for Mr. Fane, though I Was
rather proud of him. He was not at all
good-looking, but tall and distinguo and
haughty. I took it for granted that he
would love me, for I fancied myself
charming. The lawyers squabbled over
the settlements, and it was "finally'ar-
.ranged that the original Fane estates
should be cleared of encumbrances, and
handed over to Mr. Fane, and the rest
of my fortune settled strictly on myself.
Well! We were married! My husband
was no indulgent lover; but he was
polite and condescending, and tried to
teach me good manners. Oh! yes," in
reply to a murmur from Carrington, "I.
was dreadfully bad. style; loud in dress,,
hoydenish, everything I ought not to be.
He used to mortify me perpetually.
Yet," a soft blush rose in her cheek, a
sweet, half -mocking smile parted her
lips, "1 belieev I could have loved him
if he had not disdained me. Ah! how
cruel it was to let two such young
creatures as we were rush into certain
misery! Clifford—my husband, I mean
—was only three -and -twenty, and I was
seventeen and a half. How could we
bear with each other, untrained, unde-
veloped as we were? I imagine the con-
trast between myself and the clever,
high -bred women of the world he was
accustomed to, must have been trying;
but he might have had a little patience.
"1 am afraid he acted like a brute!"
ejaculated Carrington.
"No; he was always gentlemanlike!
That first year was miserable enough.
My aunt took great offence at some trif-
ling neglect of which Mr. Fane was
guilty, and did her best t
against him. lje .insiste
[ the cote:dry, so I fans' _ "'
tl ed .of,.beteg s
began to dislike and
his uncle suddenly acknow •,yt�xar
vote marriage and a son and he
finished the measure of Mr. Fane's ini-
quities in my aunt's eyes; she never
ceased complaining and fretting about
him. But I will not weary you with
lips, "I believe I could have loved him
and I was very wretched, nor without
reason. When one day driving with my
aunt, I saw Mr. Fane standing by the
door of a carriage, which was waiting
at the entrance of a pretty little house
fn one of the side streets. He was talk-
ing and laughing, as I had never seen
him talk and laugh, with a very hand-
some, dark -eyed woman. My aunt ex-
claimed, and told me she was—oh! a
well known actress—adding much that
was most painful—perhaps absurd. Then
she gave me from time to time unpleas-
ant morsels of information as to the
past and present. Ultimately, Mr. Fane
one evening brought about a crisis. He
chose to lecture me because I laughed
too Ioud, and made myself remarkable
by dancing too often with one of his
brother officers; his tone of cold scorn
was maddening—all my pent-up indigna-
tion overflowed. I had borne a good
deal, and now I let myself go. I told
him I fully returned his contempt, and
with better reason, for whatever my
faults might me, I did not, like him,
flourish on the fortune of a person I
disdained, and repay with faithlessness
or ingratitude the benefits frankly and
willingly bestowed, winding up by ex-
pressing my determination live with
him no more."
Her
es lit
her
brows ontracted up, ashe delicate
She seemed to feel again the
fire of that moment's passion. Car-
rington gazed at her, entranced by this
glimpse of the real woman, which throb-
bed with such strong vitality under the
softness and languor of her exterior.
"Do you know," she . resumed, with a
Laugh, and slightly raising her shoulders,
"I am still surprised at my own courage•
for I was rather afraid of my husband;
but the burst of anger, which may have
been righteous wrath, carried use over
the rubicon. I have never been afraid
of anything sine!" She clasped her
hands, and, resting them on her knee,
went on: "Mr. Pane was greatly astox
ished, but intensely indignant He said
our marriage had been a fatal mistake;
that he would d,o highest to further my
wishes for a separation, which was our
only chance of tranquility, and so we
parted. 1 never sew hila again, ins
pride was so hurt that he sold his whole
estate and replaced every sou of the
money my trustees • had, expended in
clearing it. He exchanged into an Indian
regiment, as the .least noisy mode of sep-
aration, and since then I have not been
exactly unlzeppy—indsed, I have enjoyed
myself a good deal; but I have always
felt a worm of mortification gnawing the
fair outside of my existence. My posi-
tion was doubtful, difficult, or might
have been. These is always a slur on a
separated wife, and it is impossible to
carry the true version of the cause print-
ed on one's sleeve; that those who run
niay read! Yet I doubt if I should have
been better off had I dragged on with
Mr. Fane. Still, I; do not like to think 1
have spoiled his life!'
"He ought to have understood you
better," said Carrington, huskily, alter
a moment's silence:
"Perhaps he could not," she returned -
"You see there was no love between us
to pour its balm upon the bruises we in-
flicted on each other. No; the blame
lies on those who hurried us into that
terrible, indissoluble marriage. But I
have been prosy over my early trou-
bles."
"If you knew the deep interest every
syllable you Have uttered possesses,"
said Carrington, huskily, and stopped
short.
"You are very good to sympathize with 1
me so kindly," returned Mrs. Fane, look-
ing at him with suspiciously moist eyes.
"There is my side of the story. I am
no angel, nor was my husband a mon-
ster; but it has been our misfortune to
spoil each other's lives."
"By heaven!" exclaimed Carrington,.
starting up and pacing once or twice to
and fro. "There never was so unfortu-
nate a devil as Fane to lose you, and
without an effort to save himself!" He
resumed his seat, and, pressing his hand
upon his brow, .sheltered his face for a
moment as if to hide his emotion. Mrs.
Fane, greatly touched, looked at him in
surprise. What a warm heart must tie
hidden under his stern, cold manner!
Her' own beat quickly with an emotion
more thrilling, delightful, disturbing,
than she had ever felt before.
"1 don't suppose Colonel Pane takes
your iiew of the subject," she said,
with a slight smile; "and do not suppose
I have any wish for reunion with him.
I bear ,him no malice. but I never desire
to see him again."'
"That is •only natural," returned Car-
rington,
ar-
rin§on, in his usual tete. "Am I dis-
creet," he continued, "in'asking how life
has gone with ye since—since you and
Tian parte
Val,,,... mm,.
At
sur.
the whole.
±u� of. plea-
of is
think tlita," returned Mrs, Vane, grave-
ly. "1 /have known Six' Frederic Morton
now for nearly two years, and 1 think
1 May say he is only a pleasant friend."
i "1 :aril probably lam 'mien a stranger
to have ventureu.to speak as 1 did."
gt*aintanoel" said Mrs. Pane, turning to
hint with 'the frank, sunzry expresszozi,
which at times gave such a charm to
her faee. "1 never felt youn were quite
a stranger, You must have lived a great
deal with Colonel Fane, fox you have
caught some tones of his voice. Not the
most musical intonations," and ,she
laughed.
Carrington looked sharply at her, then
a; smile relaxed his face. "The resem-
blance is no recommendation, 1 fear."
:"Well, perhaps not, when I remember
the occasion on which 1 last heard hire
speak." There was a pause.
Carrington leant his elbow on his
knee; and his brow on his hand. "Yes,"
he said, at length, "life must have been
difficult to you, and it has not been
smooth for Fane. He is not an amiable
fellow, and makes few friends; he has
had little hope, and is, I know, oppressed
with a sense of having been guilty of in-
justice. Poor and proud, existence has
not had too many pleasures for him.
Until lately, he had no idea that you
were a woman who cared for home or
' "How does he know I am?" asked Mrs,
Fane.
"He has heard of you, ho has some
means of information," said Carrington,
brokenly, with confusion.
"Mrs. Leslie Morton," announced a
waiter, throwing open the door. Car-
rington, cursing the interruption in his
heart, rose, and with a hasty "Good
morning," passed, out, as a portly, hand-
somely -dressed lady, al smiles and civil-
ity, advanced to greet Mrs. Fane.
He walked slowly down the hill from
the hotel, and strolled along a little-
tfrequented path across some fields, to
the beginning of the wooded uplands, in
deep thought. "It is a curious position,"
he roused. "How shall I extricate my-
self? I might well say Vane was an un-
lucky devil, to lose, to throw away such
a woman. And she was inclined to love
her husband! Gad! how sweet, and arch,
and shy, she looked when she admitted
it! If that husband had not been blind-
ed and stupefied by an idiotic. entangle-
ment, he might have perceived her real
value. She is not quite happy. How
does she regard that designing scoundrel,
Morton?"
"She hardly knows herself. She shall
never get free to bestow herself' on him;
but, would it be right to hold her still
to so irksome a marriage, if freedom was
really essential to Iter happiness? She
shall yet know that Fane can be gener
ous. I soinethnes dream there is a. spark
of hope in the curious understanding
that has sprung up between us. By
Heaven, if 1 could believe that, I would
forge the fetters again so strongly, tha
would never even wish to break
oldness and caution may carry
but there is no time to b
pssess:sny-siskeswbetr=aha
,•womnan sprained her an
doctor must not let her move
ft a fortnight to come. A fortnight!
It will be sharp work, deucedly sharp;
but nothing venture, nothing have." He
quickened his pace, and with brows
still knit in active thought, and the air
of a man who had taken his resolution,
stepped out for a. long round through
the neighboring fields and thickets, that
he might, unmolested, mature his plans.
Mrs. Bayley was quite elated to find
her bold conjecture confirmed when Mrs.
Fane told her the result of her interview
with Carrington.
"I hope you gave him his
dismissal, my dear 1" she ex-
claimed.
"and showed a proper
degree of indignation at his sneaking
round us to pick up information. In my
opinion he is a very doubtful character.
Sir Frederic cannot make out who he
1.9.”"I do not see why I should be angry
with Colonel Carrington for wishing to
reconcile me to my husband!" said Mrs.
Fane. "Most people would consider it a
meritorious atteanpt. He cannot know
its helplessness; and as to dismissing
him—he is not in my service—he pays
his own hotel bills, and can do as he
chooses."
"At any rate, I hope you will not be
eo weak as to let him influence you in
favor of that husband of yours` I am
surec;tories." my, nephew, who was in the same
station with him, could tell you such
"Which you are dying to tell me, and
which I do not want to hear," said Mrs.
Fane, laughing. "I don't like ugly stor-
ies, and I assure you, 1 never felt more
averse to reunion with Colonel Pane
than I do now."
"I a mglad to hear it," returned Mrs.
Bayley, shortly.
The lively widow fancied that time
hung very heavily on her hands, and de -
(demi that nothing made the days pass
so pleasantly as crewel work. She was,
therefore, obliged to trouble that clever,
artistic creature, Sir Frederic Morton, to
send her some patterns, wools, etc,, which
compelled a brisk correspondence; twice,
indeed, Morton wrote to Mrs. Fane her-
self, and declared his intention of com-
ing north to escort her and the invalid
to London.
COW TESTING ASSOCIATIONS.
Dominion Department of Agriculture,.
Branch of the Dairy and Cold Store
age Commissioner.
The interest taken. by the dairy farm-
ers in the work of the cow.testing as -1
sociation organized byythe branch of the!
Dairy and Cold Storage Commissioner,.
Ottawa, is steadily increashrg.,Evider;Ga
of this is seen in two or three ways. 'dhe:E
milk record sheets being tabulated daily i
show a larger number of cows whose !
Milk is being weighed and sampled six
times a month, and better still, there Is 1
an increase in the yield. That is to!
say, that the second and third tests in 1
the various. localities show a marked 1
improvement on the first. This will!
have been noticed in the summaries of the
tests published from time to time.The
Dominion officials are ;doing valuable `
educational work on their rounds, for
the custom is increasing of farmers drop- 1
ping in while the testing is in progress to i
ask many questions about the test, the
work of the associations;, improving
herds, feeding, churning at home, and in
fact •on every :phase of dairy work.
The importance of succulent feed is
well illustrated by the yield of a herd in;
the St. Prosper, Que. Association. On
June 5th the yield of 11 cows was 286
lbs. of milk; they had been on dry feed
and pastures were backward. At a mod-
erate estimate that herd could easily
have given 1,200 lbs. more milk during
the month, if succulent feed had been
available. What applies here applies to
hundreds of other herds. There would
be an enormous increase in the general
flow of milk and a vast improvement in
our dairy herds if provision were made
for green or soiling crops, ensilage and
succulent feed generally to tide over
backward seasons and dry hot spells.
Have you built a .silo yet? There is stili
time this season. Feeding ensilage al-
most invariably means malting . more
money from the same number of cows.
c . ® C. P. W.
BABY'S HOLD D14 LIFE.
Baby's Own Tablets cost 25 cents
a box. A box bought now may save your,
baby's life. Summer complaints come
often without warning, and thousands of
little ones die from them every summer.
If children's stomach and bowels are
kept in order these is little danger of
these troubles, and that is just what
Baby's Own Tablets do. They are good
- for the new born baby or the well grown:
child' and they are absolutely safe. G'
your child an oecasional dose of
and you will keep it well. If yo
!not got a box of Tablets in
at i now, send for them at once, and.
feel that your little ones
Wm. Parrott, Myrtle, Ont.,
little boy suffered greatly 1
I
t'-cried•=•almost coatinnrtusly..
- of the Tablets cured him,
the Tablets occasionally toa
trouble returning." Sold by'*•*
dealers or by mail at 25 cent
from The Dr. Williams' Med, ,out,
Brockville, Ont. 'so ray
TO MARE THE P'AI1.M HOME AATTRA
rms.
Pile wood neatly. •.
Keep the barn clean and neat.
Keep walks and porches swept clean.
Clean up or fill up small, dirty ponds.
Burn as much of the garbage as possible.
See that fences are mended and painted.
Keep the grass around the house in good
condition.
Cover the old rain barrel with a piece of
cheese cloth to keep the insects out.
Rake off all the rubbish, pick up the papers
and dispose of all waste matter.
Keep the house in good condition. See that
thq roof is mended and the house painted.
Put screens fn neatly and see that the
screen doors have locks that are in order.
Don't keep garbage or wet material in
wooden barrels, because the wood becomes
soaked end can't be cleaned.
Don't empty dishwater right outside the
kitchen door. It makes a wet, slimy place,
which is often the source of disease.
Be sure that the fence around the chicken
yard is in good shape, so that the chickens
won't get into the flower garden.
Dig a deep pit and put all the old tin
cans, broken bottles, broken china and rusty 1
,pans and kettles into it. Covar with earth.
Prune the trees and don't leave the branch-
es lying under them. Either take them
away or use them for a hedge for sweep '
peas.
Do not have too many trees right around �
the house. A farmhouse should be very
healthy, but it is often quite the opposite;
and we find the rooms damp and the roof
and foundation often covered with moss.—
Mary F. Bausch, in Kimball's Dairy Farm.
The effect of malaria Lasts a long time.
You catch cold easily or become run-
down because of the after effects of malaria.
Strengthen yourself with Scott's
Emulsion.
It builds new blood and tones up your nervous
system.
yALL DRUGGISTS, 800, AND $1.00.
0000000000001
' -41 eppinoue
neve eu�lr4laxried
an ol!d / e.
"It -has boon I2L.Cr tion for such
a woman as yos, Carrington,
his brows knitting as he looked keenly
at her.
"It has its worries," Sae said, coloring
at the meaning she well understood,
and, with a. frank laugh, added
"it would amuse you if you
knew the tremendous declara-
tions that have been made to
me by all sorts and conditions of men.
The amount of sage advice I have re-
ceived as to the best way of setting
myself free—of revenging myself on that
heartless villain, my husband! At first
I believed every man to be in earnest}
and used to be frightfully troubled about,
the pain I inflicted; but gradually I per-
ceived how largely the love offered to
me was compoundedof vanity, selfish.
nese, and greed. There were one or two
exceptions, of course"—more gravely
'but when 1 found myself deserted, and,
in a sense, repudiated, I resolved never
to bring the shadow of disgrace on the
name 1 bore—never to give my husband
the right to say, 'This woman is the
commonplace, low -toned creature I
thought.'"
"Then you never held any communica.
tion with Fane since?"
"Yes," coloring quickly, and looking
down. "Once word came to us that he
had been dangerously wounded in some
obscure fighting on the northwest fron-
tier, and was about to come home in had
health. I wrote, offering to nurse hire.
In truth I feared that he had deprived
himself of the means necessary to make
ill -health bearable, and that I might be
useful financially. However" with a
slight gesture of resignation—"I was not
accepted. He wrote 'a civil letter of
thanks declining my offer, and stating
that he was better, and entertained no
idea of returning to England! I ean't
tell you how infinitely ashamed I felt
of having tried to fordo myself upon him.
That finished everything.""
Carrington muttered something
ticulate between his teeth, and then re-
mained silent for a moment. "You are.
a wonderful woman," he said, at length,
"to have so little bitterness against the
man who has ruined your life,"
"We are, I fear, tolerably equal in
the matter of blame," she replied.
"The man has the best of it, though!
Do you know, when I found out who you
were, my first thought was to ascertain
if there was any eaanee of smoothing
matters between you and Pane? Morton
I confess puzzled me! I could not quite
make out your relations;"
"You understand now?" with a calmly
superior smile.
"I understand more than you think—
more than Morton does."
"How do you mean?"
"He wants to be more than roraat
friend; he is playing a deep game." bll
"JC don't think you have any right to 000
(To he cant nued.1
Ahead in Automobiles, Too.
'America now leads the world in the
manufacture, sale and use of automo-
biles. This is the declaration of a French
expert who hes been keeping a record of
the automobile business. Five years ago
the United States built only 814 automo-
biles of all classes, while at the same
time France built 23,711 machines. Last
year the prodction in the United States
we* 60,000, in France 65,000, in England
28,000, in Germany 22,000, in Italy 10,000
and Belghum 12,000. In nine years in the
pountries. named there have been manu-
factured, cold and used 650,000 libitumw
representing more than $1,000,00*-
of mane),- Savannah, Oa., News.
•
An Ordinary Tie -Up.
Miss Edith McGorre,y, of Cleveland, O.,
who is tc be married on June 18 to Ed-
ward H. Schv'ab, brother of Charles M.
Schwab, the steel magnate, has demo-
cratic tastes, and deplores the statement
that she is to get $2,000,000 as a wed-
ding present, and says she doesn't care
about the money, because she desires a
wedding and a married life day •id of dis-
play and notoriety. "We aren't going to
get the world on fire or azzyehing else
like that," said. Miss McGorray. "We're
dust going to get married and settle
own like everybody else who gets mar-
ried. That's all.1° • 11( �I