Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 67, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 March 1910 — Page 3

The Quest of Betty Lancey

CHAPTER XVIIL "If that isn’t a wireless I’m hearing. I never heard one,” quoth Johnny. The trio had taken refuge below, xs ths rain was falling heavily aqd there was no cabin accommodation above. x "I learned the code, you know, coming over,” he confided to Betty. "Wonder what they’re fraying? Listen.” Johnny’s knowledge was not very extensive. He deciphered the words “Tyoga,” ‘great haste,” "make all efforts to save life,” and “H. H.” “Well, we’re on the trail of the story, anyhow,” he cheerfully mused. “That ■ought to be some consolation.” All night the three' were crowded 't a space not big enough for two of them. The yacht made good time, and when it finally stopped with a jolt, Meta sought them out and bade them go ashore. They were landing at the wharf* of what might have been a conventional English seaport country place. At the and of a driveway, over which everybody limped except City Editor Burton, who Benoni had left tethered in ths yacht, rambled a pretentious house of Gothic architecture. A modern glass covered piazza was built along ■one side of the place, and as they mounted the steps Betty recognized within this enclosure Tyoga in cap and apron, in charge of a pair of children, approximately 9 and 10 years old. The boy was the larger of the two, a slight dark lad, with a petulant expression and awkward movements. Later Betty saw this awkwardness was caused by a deformity of the hip. The- girl was plainer of face than her brother, but her figure had the perfect symmetry of all wild things that live in the open air.

Tyoga was mending a white garment, but at sight of the pilgrims she dropped her work and went forward to greet them, leaving the children staring after her. She bowed before Betty and the two ether Americans, kissed Meta warmly en the cheeks, and embraced Benoni passionately: —Wheirthese two were together the. relationship of mother and son was easily discernible. “Ah, so you came safely away,” she sighed, in a relieved manner. “I was so alarmed. Hamley came home this morning. He and the old man had a dtiWclful argument. They are upstairs' now. It has been frightful. But you must not mind. I do not know what I am going to do with the children. They are getting so old now, I can’t put them off with fairy tales any longer. It is racking.” She to Betty. “I’m glad your friends found you. Poor child! The strain on you has been terrible, but the . snarl is nearing its end. You shall soon see.” The Interior Of the house was as conventional as its exterior. Betty, Larry Morris and Johnny felt that the penumbra of mystery was at length being pierced by the return of reason. "But if Mr. Wayne finds these people here he may. kill them,” objected Benoni. “He shall not see them,” assured Tyoga. “Nor Hackleye, neither, They And the children must all be out of eight before he comes down stairs. Since she is dead Hackleye cannot abide the sight of the children any more. And all her things—he wants them out of sight down here, yet he Ilves in her old rooms. Take them to the north wing, Meta, and, I will bring, the .children.” The north wing had four bedrooms, * sitting room, and a small alcove. It was done in English chintz, and several canaries sung and swung in. the windows. In Betty’s roojn had been placed garments more conventional than those she. wore, and a dozen little toilet conveniences, not the least welcome of which was a box of “hairpins in assorted She lingered long at her dressing—why shouldn’t she have done so? In all this time she had not been so near the accustomed> luxuries of life. The bath tub was a delight, the brushes, creams and powders brought back visions of civilization, and even the makeshifts for fashionable clothing were a comfort. True, the skirt latd out was plainly Tyoga!s and needed a dozen reefs and tucks; but for a waist there was an old-fashioned polonaise, and this was better suited to Betty’s size. When she was finished she really felt proud of herself, and awaited the reunion with the boys in the sitting room with great anticipation. They had fared better in the matter >f clothes, though Johnny’s trousers were too long and Larry’s were at half-mast. While they criticised, commented, and compared the children burst in upon them. The boy limped quietly in, but the girl stormed through the doors like a whirlwind. "Where -you live when you were a little girt?" she flashed at Betty. "Did they always have something doing around that you couldn’t see into?” “Of course they did,” said Betty. •Those things always happen when you’re children.” "But I, dqn’t believe it was like it is here," persisted the ' ph lid. "Here things are so funny, they make you creep if you don’t want to. You. needn’t scowl, brother, you know it’s true. Anybody can see it And why did these people come here in those skin clothes ? And wtjy has Tyoga been so worried? And why won’t papa see us, and where Is mother? Do you—oh, tell me—do you, think our mother's dead?” the child cried, flinging herself in Betty’s lap. “We had the loveliest mother, and she’s been, gone for so long!” • “What was your mother’s name, dear?” questioned Betty, though she

By MACDA F. WEST

knew before she asked, and felt ashamed of the query. She had the hot little head pressed close to her shoulder and could feel the rising sobs. The boy had gone over tp the window arid was tapping it moodily with his fingers. “She was Mrs. Cerisse Wayne Hackleye,” replied the child K “but we just called her mother.” Betty’s tears mingled with those of the little girl. “I don’t know, dear,” she answered. “Wait till we get a post and then we’ll know.” “That’s what Tyoga always says,” continued the child.- “But the post never comes here any more. What’s your name?” “Betty Lancey.” * “And his’n?” “Mr. Johnson.” “And his?” “Mr. Morris.” "Mine’s Paula, and brother’s is Walter Hamley,” announced the child. “We just call him Walter, though. He’s awfully shy, is brother. He doesn’t wear mother’s picture any more; he-says she’s been gone so long Jhat she doesn’t love us or else she’d come back. But that isn’t so; Tyoga went away for a long time, but Tyoga came back. This is mother, see?” She opened the locket around her neck and displayed to Betty the now familiar face of Cerisse Wayne. It was such a beautiful, lovely, mocking face, but it wasn’t a good face! Betty couldn’t held acknowledging that to herself even as she made her bow to the witchery of the painted features before her. There was nothing of the mother there.

“I hate this place,” went on Paula. "I don’t like the blacks and I don’t like, the quiet that’s always here. Papa, said he’d take us to England, but since mother -went away he never talks of that any more. Papa doesn’t seem to love us like he did. He was away, too. He’s just come home. And set cross! Why, the other day he stepped on one Of' my guinea pigs and killed it, and then he killed another and took and drowned the whole pen full of them in the river. \He used to be so good.” "Paula, you’ve talked enopgh,” chided the boy. “These folks don’t care.” Larry proceeded to make friends with Walter, and Betty and Johnny kept .Paula amused with a wonderful- game of ball that you make out of your handkerchief and twirl around from one to ahother on two hat pins. Gradually Larry and Walter got into the furt, and the. revel was at its height when Le Malheureux came into the room. "Le Malheureux!” cried Betty, and stretched out her hand in welcome. But the shrouded figure stood aside. “Excuse me, please,” he protested, "gq these arfe your friends? Now they have found- you, I hope they may be able to see you safely home again. I will ask of you, too, a favor. Will you take these two\helpless children with you? They belong to my sister, Mrs. Hackleye, known to you as Mrs. Wayne. I wish, they may go to their father’s people in England. There is no one else who can take care of them and they mustn’t stay here any longer. No,” reading the question in Larry’s eyes, “the father is not dead, but he is not well. And it is best for them to go.” s "When can we go?” blurted Larry, "and where is the father? Didn’t he ki ” Betty threw the ball at Larry, and it struck him squarely in the mouth, Interrupting the question on his lips. “Judge not,” cautioned Le Malheureux. "I will dine with you later, after the children have gone to bed.” The remainder of the day was a catechism by the children. They devoured their strange visitors with questions about the country they had never seen,•wondered if they would meet the(r mother, made a thousand childish plans for the voyage, and drew lots as to which of their pets they would take with them. Discussion as to the relative merits of white mice over guinea pigs and peabocks was bordering on belligerency when Tyoga carried the juveniles away to the room that did duty as a nursery and left their impatient elders to kwait the coming of Le Malheureux.

X CHAPTER XIX. ■She clock In the room told ten, and he was not yet there. The children slept and Betty ayid her companions moved restlessly from room to room Had it not been for Johnny, Larry and she might have been exchanging a thousand queries as to “when did you first begin to love me," and "do you remember that time?” but as it was they tried to be unselfish and make general conversation and, as is usual in such cases they only succeeded in having everybody miserable, Johnny as well as themselves. Angry voices sounded from the corridor. • Orfe, unmistakably that' of De Malheureux, the other that of an older and a mode-irate jnan. They extinguished the lights, and Betty cautiously stealing to the door PU,t her eye to the keyhole and her eat to the crack. Gut Tn the hall was Le Malheureux, with him a bent old man, white-haired and saffron-skin-ned. The old man leaned totterlngly on a staff. "I hate you, hate you, a thousand times ..more than I ever have done before, oh wretched son!” he shrilled. “Vile that you are!” * . “You cannot, father,” Interrupted the -harsh voice of Le Malheureux, In a sorrowful Intonation. "You have long

condemned me to tortures. What lam you made me.” The. two walked slowly dqwn' tho corridor. Motioning to Larry and,BettX;J«o await hlg'-peturn Johnny followed in j’ their wake.' Through the main building and across to the south room wing they went, stopping in what was evidently the old man’s sitting room, JThere the discussion broke out afrefrh. "I hate you, I say— A thousand times more," repeated the old man. “tlnfilial son! But I have outwitted you! My cohorts, my good black negroes, any one of theifi worth a thousand such sons as you, have found out your secret castle, the gate to those bonanza fields where the diamonds He so closely bedded together that a needlepoint could not separate them. lam free of you now, forever, free;' do you understand? That wealth that yqur mother and young aunt so long denied me is mine, mine and Cerisse’s. Ah, there is devotion for you, devotion for you! She is a girl after my own heart! What vfin! What nerve! What nerved fool like you, and you, my son! Bah! Now that I have the path to tho mines, now that I need him no longer, Haokieye may go, and his children with him if he wishes. They are but poor offspring for my beautiful daughter to own. Small wonder she never loved them. Nor him either. Her heart has long been with one man, and now with all this new wealth she shall have' him. Money buys anything! Diamonds are money! Cerisse shall be rid of this Hackleye. I hate him, too!” ’ Another figure stepped out of the darkness. . Johnny recognized the early morning visitor he had trailed from the Desterle into the Flanders mansion, months before. “Don’t believe that for. a moment,'* this man rasped. “You blithering old fool you! Cerisse is dead! Do you hear! She’s dead! Dead!” The old man dropped his staff and fell back into the arms of Le Malheureux, who led him to a seat near by. ‘JHackleye, Hackleye!" wailed old man, “you didn’t—you didn't You didn’t kill her?” Hackleye pulled a roll of newspaper clippings from his pocket and dangled them before the old man’s eyes, and spread them out on the table before him. With qUTvering lips the stricken man read, punctuating each sentence with a moan. He saw the headlines only, then flung the papers from him and tried to reach Hackleye with his staff.

"And you, you—” he malevolently called to Le Malheureux, “why did you not prevent it?” "How could I?” answered Le Malheureux, “and why should I? You know what Cerisse was, father. A murderess at heart, and my own sister. My mother's daughter!” “Yes, and mine,” snarled the old man. “Where are those brats ofc Hackleye’s? I'll kill them—kill them, I tell you!” Le Malheureux rang sharply on a bell. Benoni entered from the hall, and together they bore the old man from the room. Hackleye gathered up ths clippings and With darkenthg brow paused before the portrait of the two children on the wall before him. Opposite was a life size painting qf the mother, and his wife—radiant, smiling as she had. been in her early girlhood, and when she had listened to the ardent love-making of her future husband. As the man looked the frown vanished. A breeze stealing in from ths window swayed the portrait forward on the wall. With outstretched hands and lips apart the girl In the picture seemed to move towards the weary man, to offer him the roses she held in her hands. The dim lights completed the illusion. Hackleye sprang forward to embrace the girl in the picture, soft words upon his lips. “Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he cried, "You’ve come back to me. I know it, and you’ll never go again, will you, dear? Just piy girl again, just mine, just mine He had touched the canvas now and its clammy surface woke him from his dream. Hurling it back against the wall, Hackleye snatched a jeweled knife from the table, and slashed the canvas into finest fringe. “And all for love of a wpman,” quoth Johnny to himself, as Hackleye tinseling rushed down the corridor in a blind rage and almost knocked himover. (To be continued.)

The Sublime Porte.

The phrase “the sublime porte” arises from an aspect of the sultan’s capital. The French words “sublime porte” are derived from “porta sublima,” meaning “thp lofty gate* Constantinople city used to have twelve gates, and near one was a building with an Imposing gateway called Bab-i-Humajun. In this butjding resided the grand vizier, and there also were the officers of* the chief ministers, whence all the edicts of state were issued. The French fihrase was adopted because at the time French was th* language of European diplomacy.

The Way.

“I wish you would tell me how you keep your razor in such excellent condition.” “It would not help you if I did tell you-” ■’ “Why not?” “Because you failed to start out as I did: I married a‘woman who isn't subject to corns.” —Houston Post.

Daily Thought.

We pass for what we are. Chara* ter teaches above our wills. Men Im* aglne that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit * breath eyery moment,-—Emerson.

Before and After.

“Before we were married you usedto stand under my window and sing.” answered Mr. Meekton, "you were a deal more patient with my singing then than you are now." Despondency is not a state- of humility; it is the vexation and despat* of a cowardly pytde.—Fenelon.

THE RESURRECTION.

Oh. stars of morn With radiance softly •beaming, ----- —-— Speak to my soul and say What thou didst see when all the world lay dreaming - At dawn of yon blest day. "We saw from Heaven the holy ones descending Speeding at love’s behest. Gladness, and joy, and adoration blending In wondrous service blest. “We saw thie majesty of God revealing Dominion o’er death's sway As Christ arose**"His glorious' mission sealing That resurrection day. "And yet we watch a careless world still dreaming As angels come and go While that strong loving sight is ever gleaming O’er all the world beldw.” —S. Jean Walker.

CHURCH OF HOLY SEPULCHRE.

Strange Picture Which the Traveler Sees in Jerusalem. A celebration of Easter Day .at the tomb of the Living Christ in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, at Jerusalem, gives to Christians bf every age, sect and country a thrilling experence never to be forgotten. Throughout all of Holy Week the narrow, winding streets of the Holy City are thronged with a strange mixture of races, nations and tongues, all drawn there by a common impulse and a universal faith in the fundamental truth of Christ’s resurrection, ■without which the Christian’s faith is indeed -vain. Christians of the Latin .rite, adherents of the Graeeo-Russian Orthodox Church, Copts and Armenians. Syrians and Abyssinians, believers in the various denominations of Protestant Christendom, are strangely blended in these ancient highways with Jews and Mohammedans, while everywhere are the Turkish soldiery, stationed at the holy places through an alleged desire on the part of the government to keep the peace among the Christians! Devotional interest in the different stages of the Passion of Christ leads pilgrims to visit, in turn, the garden of Gethsemane, with its ancient olive trees; the prison into which Our Lord was led, the monastery now covering the floor of the house of Pontius Pilate, and every step of the Via Dolorosa, that narrow way upon which the Savior fell under the weight of the cross. The great ceremonies of Palm Sunday, of Maundy or Holy Thursday, and Easter Sunday are in, or just withput, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, that ancient church which guards the tomb of Christ and the rock of Calvary; the church that was built by the Emperor Constantine and for which the Crusaders fought and died. This church is a lofty structure of limestone, of a yellowish tint, the main building surmounted by a dome little less in size than that of our national capitol. The church was erected on the sipping hillside, and a chapel at one side of the church, rising higher than the rest of the building, rests upon the very rock of Calvary, where the cross of Our Savior stood. Convents and monasteries adjoin the church, and it is fronted by a court, upon which, nearly two thousand years ago, the people stood afar off and watched the awful tragedy of the world’s redemption. Entrance to the church is through an arched doorway of generous height and leading into a large square vestibule, or inner porch. In the center of this space lies the stone of (faction, so called from the tradition that upon this stone the body of Our Lord was laid when Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus “wound it fa linen cloths, with the spices.” This etone is a species of marble of roseate tint, rectangular in shape. It is about eight feet in length and is about four feet wide, standing some four inches above the floor. Massive candles are grouped together at either end of this sa-

THE INVENTOR OF THE EASTER BONNET.

cred slab and pilgrims aproach it with every outward demonstration of veneration and respect. Some have been known to cut out strips of cloth, according to the exact dimensions of the stone, rubbing the cloth upon it, afterward taking the Cloths with them to their homes and country for use as winding sheets when death shall claim them for the life beyond the grave. The inner circumference of the church building is fitted up with brilliantly decorated chapels of the various divisions of Eastern and Western Christendom. A spacious and vaulted aisle connects these with the great central rotunda Info which they open.. In the exact center of this rotunda rises the tomb of Our Lord, the Holy Sepulchre itself. It is a marble structure, bearing every evidence of great antiquity and looking more like a mortuary chapel than the tomb described in Scripture as hewn out of a rock. Its dimensions indicate a height of thirty feet, depth of twenty-fiye feet and a width of

THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.

seventeen feet. Quaint lamps of brass, with globes of different colors, are sus pended from the alabaster top of thtomb and it is further adorned with oil paiutings. Grouped around the entrance are mas sive golden candlesticks, bearing decorated candles, some twelve feet in length. The flickering flame Of these tall lights illumines in a fitful manner the gloomy splendors of this great church. Passing ..between these rows of candles the pilgrim enters beneath a low arched door into the vestibule of the tomb, in the center of which rises a marble column about three feet hign, in the top of which is inserted a piece of stone which trad'tion declares tp be a portion of the rock that was rolled away from the door of the sepulchre on the night of the Res-

urrection. The stope walls of the tomb are heavy and thick and the space within very limited in extent, scarcely holding more than four or five persons at one time. To the right of the entrance a white marble slab is set into the wall and resting on an upright slab some four feet' in height. Upon this pure white stone itself, or ledge, the sacred body of the Redeemer is supposed to have rested until His glorious resurrection from tho dead. This is the object of chief interest to all visitors and pilgrims, many of the latter mingling sobs and tears with their prayers.

Children's Easter.

it was the Saturday before Easter, and the children all ran out to the barn to hunt eggs, with Egypt, the tame crow, hopping after them. Nanny was sure there must be several dozen eggs in the hen house, Billy thought the haymow was the /best place to find them, and Kitty skid she had seen old Topknot flying out from Dobbin’s manger. Egypt said nothing, but I rather think he knew as much about the nests as they did. Egypt was a sly old fellow. He liked buttons and pennies, but he had the greatest fancy for pins. He would pull them out of every pin cushion in the house when he could get a chance, so you might search, through room after room, and not come across a single pin. Nobody knew what he did with them all. He was fond of eggs, too, and I am afraid this was the reason that the children had such a long hunt for them, and found do few. At last they climbed up the long ladder Into the mow. The hay was piled almost to the roof and covered the windows. It was so dark that Nanny and Kitty were a little bit ifrald, but Billy went first, floundering along in the hay, just as you wad* through a snow drift. “Guess there are nests on thin beam,” said Billy, “but it’s so dark I ;an’t see. I’ll feel.” In went Billy’s hand, and out it came in a second, with “It’s hornets or yellow-jackets or something!” he screamed. “Fetch th* barn lantern, Kit, and I’ll knock ’em out!” Kitty brought the lantern, and then ran to the other side of the barn, for fear of the yellow jackets. Billy held the lantern over his ear and peeped in. What did he see? Not hornets, but pins. He had run his hand into Egypt** own little “hidy-hole,” where the sly little rogue had laid away a whole pile of his favorite treasures. No wonder they pricked like hoi-nets. But what the queer old bird was saving them for I never knew.

Easter in Our Hearts.

Our lives are too often graves tn which the best possibilities of moraj and spiritual beauty and strength 11* sleeping. Perhaps not one of us is living at his best. There are better things in our soul than have been brought out. There is more love lying in our heart—sympathy, compassion, gentleness, helpfulness—than has yet been called out into service. Ther* are undeveloped possibilities of usefulness in everyone’s heart and hand. Many of our lives are like the trees in orchards and forests all over the land, these early spring days, waiting for the warm sunshine and gentle rains to call out their foliage and fruits; we need the warm south wind of God’s love and of the Holy Spirit to woo but the blessed possibilities in our lives. W* need Easter in our hearts, a resurre* tlon which shall cause us to arise and shine and put/on our beautiful garments —J. R. Miller, D. D. •

Easter Rabbit Search.

For the little folks a rabbit search would be new and Interesting. The rabbits are the little biscuits in rabMt shape which all grocers keep around Eastertime. Or rabbit shapes, failing the others, can be cut from paper with a few rabbit cookies mingled with them, and bidden Instead. Give the children little bags of brown paper, muslin or linen in which to collect the bunnies. The prize can be an- Easter rabhlt la hard chocolate.

The Agriculturtat.

"What you burying’ your Easter eggs for?” “To grow some more. Didn’t yon ever hear of a egg plant, gooslel” ' . ! He who sows brambles must not go barefoot—Dutch.