Greencastle Star Press, Greencastle, Putnam County, 11 November 1893 — Page 2

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nlar chair, "I have just had a letter from Madame Debrisay. She is going to be

married."

“Married! Aweel, there’s nae fule like an old fule! I’ll be bound she’s goln’ to tak some lad that might !>e her son!" he 1 exclaimed, with severe contempt.

I We had caUeA t«-\ce The first time. "You are wn>n_r. uncle: stie is going to Mumi was a&ut'to assist Mine. Debrisay marry (b neral Fielden-who must be fiiinto the sitting-room, and she was obliged teen or twenty years older than she Is—a to explain and dismiss him; the second, j » ic e old gentleman, who wants someone she was really out. When he persevering- t0 take care of him and make his last days ly called a third time, he was partially r®-! comfortable; so they think It wiser and

warded. The tea-table was spread, and more respectable to be married,

the presence of General Fielden procured that sounds mair reasonable. Has the him a tetc u-tete general ony siller* These soldier men scat“1 began to fear I should never see you fer mair than they gather. It s just a ralsngatn,” said Lisle, In a low voice, drawing! r, ’ rtin to the country to have the like o»

near Mona, who sat at work near the Are. them to support.

“You are so heart less and cruel. You neve 1 “He is not rich,” returned Mona, leaving give a fellow the least chance.” ! her nncle’s abstract observation utianswer“Chance of whatf” asked Mona, thread-fed. “but fairly well off-at least for all ing her needle I th( ‘>' wil1 ' va,lt - 1 am very, very glad of “Of sneaking to you alone.” this new ^ f( ’ r ‘hough dear Madame Deb. “But I do not want to speak to you alone ; fl^ay has worked so hard, I do not think

1 she has laid by anything, ana itie time will

come when she can work no more."

How hideously cold and unkind yon 1 I hat’s true, Mona; but il s no every are Mona. Well, I have something to young lassie would think o t, an it m ik s whisper in your ear alone, though, if you' me think o’ youreel’. I’ll not forget you, will listen favorably. 1 do not care how and 1 11 no put it off ony mair. soon it may be proclaimed upon the house- 1 1 11 *'> ,lo on to Glasga . the week after . „ next, and see Mr. Cochran—that’s my He leaned toward her, seeking to meet m,in o’ buslness-about puttin’ a codicil to

| my will. Ye see, 1 hoped and hoped you

and Kenneth would mak’ it cx»t together.

his lielonglngs a pride which caused some [ t th ^ , .J, fl^iness of early painful struggles in his soul between the ^ ^ hlH e8( t(K) , H , em ed larger and hive of a good appearance and the love °f j , niire thoughtftd; but his Jong thick mus-

80 she put tip her rich golden hair in lie ! coming coils and short wavy braids, nr- i ' rayed herself in a polonaise of soft creamy

I have nothing to say that the whole world

might not hear.’

seeking her eyes.

Mona’s color rose, and then faded | quickly, while she looked steadily at hci

work.

“Then do not say It,” she replied, softly “Do you mean what you say?" “! do.” . CHAPTER XXIII. — UNCLE BAXDV FINDS A?

OLD FRIEND.

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I wished ye baith to profit by my bits o’ property—but that's a’ ower.” "Dear uncle, you must think of Kenneth first; then, if you like to remember me, 1

shall lie very grateful. ’

“I’ll not forget ye! But yoti manna anger me; ye do sometimes. You are a braw lassie—that I am not denyitT—but ye think too much o’ yoursel’—you think nae mon good enough for ve. There’s von baronet

o.u.hj, ^-ocm.-or c.ouus o,..a w m. 1110 | _g ir St . John Lisle-he’d ask you to-mor-driving rain, and the wil l wind weirdly | rml . if rmiM , am , ullll andcau l ( l,

muiiin ov r her black aa;ia :-.;;rt, and ti l an old-fashioned enamel locket with black velvet round Lie snowy throat which 1 , r open corsage permitted to be seen. This, and a large spray of red geranium and fern on one side of her bodice, were her only

ornaments.

S e was quite ready, and not df s Pisfi d with her. e.f, some time befor the hour at which the travelers were expected, so she sat down to the piano and pi. y -d dreamily to Kenneth, who had also got himself up

with care.

“They are late, are they not?” said Mona, and as she spoke the sound ot appr ..cuing win els made itself heard. “No,” he returned; “the train must ha v J been punctual—here they come!” ■ Now the mystery win be solved!” or hid Mona, rising and following K nuet.i into

so >!,ing among the solemn pine-trees and

leafless oaks.

row if you’d let him!

but I'm no sae'dottled that 1 canna read

T ... , , , , what’s in a mon’s een—and he’s a gran’ W inter on the west coast, though les. | nmn . ra like folk t0 . SL . e Sandy

bitterly mid than In other parts of the . Criij , 8 n , ece , her le(ldvBhi , „

country, is gloomy ami threatening It „ Hat unclo , thou _,i lt yoa despised and

was a dreary time for Mona. Mary Black di8a! > proved of titles?”

had been recal etl to her home The small- .. E ,‘ th . are just 8en8t . U . ss toys, but 11 nea- of the htt e group, isolated as it were u them oot 0 . the wor i di and I like f VTt that T*lI<r<PO/l Mil I—kllilxx i > Tv /1 f,VQ Toailitvir * . j

the best o’a things to come to me and mine! Then a flue rich man wouldna care j for a tocher vvi’ his wife, and so I’d hae j mair for Kenneth—wl a must marry some '

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on that rugged hill-side, and the feeling that it was a Work of time, nay almost of danger, to escape to the comfort and companionship of a great city, created a sense of imprisonment exceedingly trying to the

spirits.

Mona was quite ashamed of her own depression a litlle before Christmas. She felt as if she was forgotten by everyone. Ikidy Finlstonn had written a pressing invitation to visit her at her home in Cumberland, when Mona was with Mine. Debrisay, which, under any circumstances, she would have refused, and since she had given no sign, neither had Lisle. And even Mine. Debrisay had not written for a fortnight. Mona hod suggested a few weeks In Edinburgh to help them over the depth of the winter, but somehow Uncle Sandy

did "not see it!”

There was nothing for it but to endure the inevitable routine. Breakfast nt nine, and a consultation with the cook: a spell of reading to her unde; an escape to needle-work or ninsic; dinner, after which Mr. Craig slumbered for a couple of hours, and Mona was free, if the weather did not permit of going out; a walk to the farm-yard or round the garden if it did; tea and the newspaper; more work or music on Mona’s part, more sleep on Mr. Craig's; a little talk with Kenneth, then supper and bed. Day after day alike. Mona did not think she could live through

another winter.

At last the post brought excitementsurprise—an entirely new set of ideas—in a letter from Mine. Debrisay. My Df.akf.st Mona:—I suppose you think me one of th<‘ most worthh » s and ungrateful women in the world! Well, jnst wait, and you will excuse me. My dear, imagine me writing be nda big fan to hide my blushes! About a week ago I hail come in very tired from one of my first attempts to tlo my usual day’s work, and was refreshing myself with a cup of ten, when in walked my general. 1 sent for another cup, and we sa! down cozily together. “‘You are looking very 111,’ he said, so ■it 'ec.ito that he made me jump. “ ‘I dare say I am,’ said 1. ‘It is fatiguing nt first. In another week 1 shall be all the better for my work. It would do me small

good to sit here alone.’

“ ‘That's true,’ he returned, as If he felt the truth in the bottom of his heart; ‘that’s just what I think,’ and we each drained a goblet—no, I mean a cup, so deep was our conviction! ‘Still,’ said he, as if out of his thoughts,‘I don't like to see you killing

yourself.’

“‘Indeed I do not want to do anything of the kind; life isstill worth living for me.’ “ ‘That’s because you have a good heart!’

he cried, fortissimo. “ ‘Don’t flatter,’ said 1.

“ ‘1 do not—I never did,’ said he. ‘Now, I am rather lonely—so are you; suppose you come abroad with nit* and take care of me? It’s not much of an offer to a handsome woman still in her prime,’ said he,

very civilly.

‘“My dear general,’ said I, ‘what would

the world say?’

“ ‘We’ll gag the world, my tlear Madame Debrisay, If you have no objection to go

through a little ceremony!’

“ ‘Good gracious, general!’ 1 cried, ‘do

you want to marry me?’

“ ‘I do,’ said he, very stoutly. ‘I haven’t much to offer you, Vnit I can leave you enough Ur Independence. We have both borne the burden of the day, so let us spend a peaceful evening together. I am a gruff sort of fellow, but not bud at heart: and I’ll not growl more than I can help. Just turn it over in your mind, and I will come to-morrow for an answer. If you say yes, we might get things arranged, aud start in

ten ilavs or so for Nice.”

"Well, dear, I have said ‘Yes,’ and I think I have done well. We are to be married at the registry office, as neither of us are at the romantic age when we might want to make a religious festival of it. Herr and Frau Nachtigall are to be my witnesses, and an ancient veteran, an old comrade of General Kielden's, is to l>e his. I think the dear old fellow is quite fond of mo. He hritigs me present* every day; one time a pair of gloves lined with fur; then a watch (It belonged to bis wife, I imagine, but it is good and pretty), then a warm cloak. He is strong in wraps, and is quite cheerful about belngmarried. Well, Mona,

'to ' ?y

real gentleman. He sends his love to you, and says he is quite ready aud willing to adopt you ut any time; so, dear, you have not lost me—you have kept mo aud coined another and a much more potent Mend. Write and tell me what you think of all this. I shall long to see you, and Uncle Sandy must spare you to us when we come hack to Paris In the spring.

“Always your loving friend.

“G. Debrisay.”

Mona read this Important communication with since rest pleasure. “I will go and write a letter of congratulation, and I will send her poor grannie’s cat’s-eye and diamond bracelet for a wedding present; It is the prettiest thing I have. 1 wonder will my uncle think of giving her anything?” Here that gentleman’s stick was heard tap-tupping os he approached after an expedition to the poultry-yard with

Kenneth.

“Oh, Uncle Sandy!” she cried, as he came In and threw himself into his partic-

I’ll do mv very best to make him happ; and comfortable. He is a good soul aud i

gude, respectable, well-to-do lassie, wha will need siller wi’ her mon.” "Ah, well, uncle, it will be time enough to talk about refusing Sir St. John Lisle when he asks mel Now I am going to write to madame—what shall I say for

you?”

"Eh, my best respects, an’ I hope a blessing will licht on her new undertaking. But I see the boy coming wi’ the bag; he’ll hae the Scolxmtm, sae ye must read a bit tie first. I’m varra keen to see how the election at Clachanbrig has gane—I’m fearin’ it will be against the Liberals.” Mona therefore had to restrain her ardor, and wade through long columns of local politics, before she could pour out her warm congratulations to her lieloved Deb. A brisk interchange of letters ensued— extremely brief on Mine. Debrisay’s side. Thea came a pause, and the announcement in the Times -“On the 30th, at the Registry Office, Paddington, General Fielden— to Gcral li:i , widow of the late Arthur Debrisay, formerly Captain in the Kaiscrin Marie Tlier e Hu - irs.—No cards.” It gave Mona a litll * additional s *nse of loneliness to think that s.*a and land -.retched-) widely bjtween "Deb” and her hers. If. fir, after all. Dab was her mainstay. ***»«#«• Mr. Craig’s intention of journeying to Glasgow was postponed because he caught a very severe cold, and was obliged tokeqp his bed. This was a very trying time to the household, as the old man thought he was going to die, and demanded endless attention. It was ttierefore In the last week of January that, encouraged by a favorable change of weather, he set out on his travels. He only* intended to be away two clear days, but on the morning of the second Mona received a few almost illegible lines from him saying that he did ,tot expect to get away till the following Sat-

urday.

Of this welcome breathing space Kenneth took advantage to pay a flying visit to his Mary—leaving early one morning, and returning late the following night—an interval of utter loneliness which was most depressing to Mona. Saturday broke brightly, full of promise for a fine day. Already a breath of spring came with the sea breeze to cheer aud invigorate. Before Kenneth and Mona had risen from the breakfast-table, where they had sat longer than usual talking of Mary, and discussing how and when the subject of Kenneth’s marriage with her could best be broached tc. Uncle Sandy, a telegram was put into Mona’s hands from that potentate—"tVill bring a gentleman with me. Best bed-room.’’ “Who can it be?” said Kenneth. “The lawyer, most likely,” returned

Mona.

“I don’t think he would give Mr. Cochran the best bed-room.” "If ‘the coming man’ Is to have the best room, he must have a good supper. I shall see Phemie atonce. The idea of a stranger guest Is positively exciting! There are some grouse in the larder; if you would take the nets. Kenneth, and get some fish, I think I could manage a respectable dinner—yes, dinner itshalllie. Uh, Kennethl" with a sudden look of dismay, "suppose it is Sir St. John Lisle?” “Aud what for should It not be Lisle? He is a fery nice man, and thinks fery much of you. Mona. I daur say it will be

Lisle.”

“1 hope not. Ho is frightfully particular, and rather an epicure. But It. cannot !><■’ What would bring him up here at this season?” “May be to see you, Cousin Mona.” “He would not take that trouble,” she said, more to herself than to her companion, as she left the room to hold high council with the cook—to see to the rubbing up of what silver her uncle possessed—to Interview the gardener—to set Jessie to prepare the best room, and keep up a good fire therein. It was reviving to have something to do —something to anticipate. Even If the nameless visitor proved to be Lisle, he would Ihj welcome after such an unbroken spell of monotony. The rest of the day was busily employed till the shades of evening began to close— then having seen the table set and duly decorated with flowers; the claret placed In the temperature where it was to be drunk; the drawing-room made pretty, and good fires everywhere, Mona retired t > dress. "If it Is Captain Lisle I need not look a fright,” she thought; “If it is a stranger, my uncle will be pleased to see me at my

best."

She well knew Uncle Sandy’s pride in

-i . Mona found herself face In face with Leslie Waring.” the hall, where at the open door stood “Wallace,” a fine, black colly, barking an uproarious welcome. Uu k* S indy descended in a very dislocated I'a.siiinn from the phaeton, with Kenneth's help, and advanced to meet Mona, who kissed him kindly. "I’m awfn’ weary!” he said; “I hope the dtutier is ready?” "Yes, quite ready, uncle,” she returned, darting a curious look beyond him at a gentleman who was in the act of crossing the threshold—a man not much above middle height, wrapped in a loose ulster, the hi .h collar of which almost meeting the traveling-cap pulled over Ids eyes, effectually concealed ids face. He came forward under the lamp, and turning to him, Mr. Craig said with unusual warmth— ‘ I’m varra glad to see your mother’s son under mv roof. Tills Is my niece—I was near saying my daughter—Miss Craig.” The stranger threw back his coat and took off ids cap. As he bowed, the strong light fell upon him, aud Mona found herself face to face with Leslie Waring, greatly changed and looking years older, but still unmistakably Leslie Waring. For a moment or two Mona felt blind ami dizzy, so great, so sudden was her surprise. Then she r 'covered herself all the more rapidly, because he seemed perfectly unmoved—while she could only exclaim in an agitated voice—“Mr. Waring!” He said quietly—“This is a most unexpected pleasure,” and took the hand she extended mechanically. “Eh, mold” cried Uncle Sandy, “do ye ken Mona? How’s this? Ye never told

me.”

“I had no Idea Miss Josceiyn was in any way related to you!” said Waring, with a

smile.

Miss Joscelyn? There’s no Miss Joscelyn here. This is my niece, Mona Craig!” "1 remember now,” said Waring, quickly; “1 beg your pardon. I had the pleasure of knowing Miss Craig some years ago, in

London.”

"it is varra remarkable; but there’s time enough to talk about it a’. Go, tak’ off yer coat. Kenneth, show Mr. Waring Ids room. Come, my bnirnie, tell Jessie to bring up the vivers. I’m just faiut like; it has been a cold journey.” “Will you take a little whiskyand water at once, uncle?’’ asked Mona, trying to remember tier duties with an effort, so dazed did she feel at this astounding reappear-

ance.

“Aweel, it might lie better to do so. Just hang up my coat, will you? Eh, but you have a fire that's enough to set a’ the chimneys In Kirktoun burning; still it looks gran’. The young mon will think auld Sandy Craig has a flue hoose o’ his aim It’s varra strange you knowing each other. Thank you, my dearie,” as she handed him his allowance of whisky aud water. “But, uncle, how in the world did you come to know Mr. Waring?”

‘Me? Aweel, I knew him when lie was

a wee bairn, but It’s lang years since. Bis mother was Mr. Leslie’s daughter. You’ll mind my telling you o’ the .real hoose o’ .'lacenchorn L s’.ie. Leslie was the - an’ gentleman of the firm; and his daugh- : r- "li. r.iy word, she was a bouniei she

• t; e vning leddy that ought to have i ny wife, and this lad’s eyes are just . e e r’s—.she married a proud,

upsetting Englishman: but the siller was hers, and the boy was named after her father. He lias been fulish, I’m fearin’ and lias spent a cruel lot o’ money, gaming awfu’and racin’ and rampaging. Something turned him wrong; noo, he seems more wise-like, and has settled doon on a farm in America. He came over abool some law plea, a bit o’ money Chat tvjs coming to him through his mother, and sae he came on to Glasga’, to speak to Mr. Cochran, who was aye the adviser of a’ the hoose, an’ there lie found me. I was right glad to meet him, and—but here he is, and Jessie, too. The denner’s ready. I’m glad to see you in my hoose, Mr. Waring. Give

me your arm. I am a pulr frail body.” Waring threw a smiling glance at Mona,

as if asking pardon for preceding her, and

led his host into the dining-room. Mona took her place at the head of the

table with an over powering sense of em-

barrassment, mixed with self-reproach. “Something had turned him wrong?”

Uncle Sandy saiil; “was she that ‘some-

thing?’ ”

Pride came to lier assistance, however; she must not let him see how overwhelmed she really was. By a resolute effort she recalled her self-control, and played the part of hostess with sweet gravity and simple kindness; but though avoiding Warlng’s eyes, she keenly observed how greatly he had changed. He looked taller because he had grown thinner. His strong figure looked firmer and more set; his face, longer, darker, more imbrowned, aud

I tache, drooping to either side, showed when he smile* 1 Mr" V's rather large teeth were as brilliantly white as before; his bauds, that useil to be so creamy and plump, were burned almost black, and showed both bone and muscle, as though ; they and hard work were well acquainted. Yes, he was changed wonderfully, and improved. His old, good-humored eagerness to please and to be pleased was replaced by , profound repose of manner, as if the ef- j fervesenoe of youth had entirely evuporat- | ed, and left a slightly weary but kindly

quietude behind.

He ate his dinner as if he liked it, and did not say much; once he looked round the pretty, comfortable room admiringly,

and exclaimed—

“You cannot think, Mr. Craig, how delightful all this seems to me. Tlie bright silver and glass, the flowers, the look of refinement—these things want a woman’s

touch!”

“I suppose you have no youngleddiesoot

yonder?"

“No; my partner, like myself, is a bachelor. Indeed, it has hitherto been too rough for ladies; but we are improving rapidly. We had nearly finished a log hous? when I left; quite an architectural mansion,” added Waring, laughing. His laugli was still frank and pleasant. I hope your partner is an honest man,” quoth Mr. Craig. “I hope so too. Indeed, I believe he is. He comes of a respectable English family, and lias been accustom d to the life of a rauche since his early boyhood. Ho is a first-rate judge of cattle aud horses; and if he had not much money capital to put into the venture, he contributes what is quite as valuable—knowledge and practice.” “Eli, I’m no that sure. There’s as much danger us profit sometimes In the knowledge of penniless men.” “Oh, Watson is not penniless; and he is really a very good fellow.” “That is fortunate,” said Mona, forcing herself to join in ttie conversation. “I suppose you have no other companion.” “None. A chance traveler asks for hospitality now aud then, but he never stays

long.’’

“It must be a lonely life, though 1 should not dislike it,” said Kenneth. “I certainly do not. There’s freedom and plenty of work, and when night comes one is too tired for anything but a good night's

rest.”

“And I daur say you are mair peaceful and content to be awa’ frai* yon jiow sowdie o’ conceited fules and grinning cheats they ca' the great world,” said Uncle Sandy, viciously. “Oli, human nature is pretty much the same In the wilderness or In the world of social life,” said Waring, good-humoredly. “It would be but poor philosophy to cry out against the world 1 have left because 1 played the fool there; on my head be it my fortune. Tliere are as .! ms—r as few good fellows —. . . taU* of life as another.” •; b.*iieve that,” said Kenneth. “I sh 1 , ,;e well to see your place, Mr. Wa' ing.” "Why don’t you come out for a bit. It is a sort of life you would like, I think.” “Eh, but lie lias ids work cut oot for him here!” cried Uncle Sandy. “He’ll find it best to bide wi’ me. Noo, tel. me how mony head o’ cattle have ye forbye horses?” And the three men plunged Into talk, from which Mona collected that Waring had invested almost all the capital left him —after much wild extravagance and foolish speculation—In a ranch near the famous redwoods on the Pacific coast, and that, as yet, he had realized very little, though his hopes were high, and he had evidently thrown himself energetically into the undertaking. , She kept silence gladly. Waring’s presence—his steady composure, his quiet submission to the inevitable—touched her deeply. She longed to cry out— “Have you forgiven mu? Can I atone for the pain I inflicted?” But most probably he had nearly forgotten that he once loved her, and hoped to pass hi* life with her. She panted to be alone, to disentangle her thoughts—to master the disturbance of her mind. As they seemed so absorbed in conversation, Mona thought she might slip away unobserved; but her uncle noticed her movement. “Bide a bit, my lassie!” he cried. “We have sat iiere lang Enough; we’ll a’ come wi’ ye to the drawing-room. You shall sing us a sang, and then I’ll gang r.wa’ to my bed. My niece sings fine, Mr. Waring,” he added, as he took Mona's arm. “I know that, Mr. Craig,’’returned Waring, opening the door for them to pass through; “I remember her songs well.” Mona felt that she blushed crimson, while she said, In a low tone, to her uncle— “I have scarcely any voice to-night—do not ask me to sing.” "Hoot, toot, my dearie! you’ll please us

weel.”

Mona stood a moment irresolute after' Uncle Sandy had tumbled Into the depths of his chair. Waring came to herside, and looking kindly, and perhaps a little sadly, Into her eyes, said— “Don’t refuse, Miss Craig! You don’t know what a treat the music of a woman’s voice is to an exile like myself, especially as in a few* days I shall go back to the wilds again.” "Then I will do my best,” returned Mona, simply, and she went to the piano. The song she choose was a pretty, quaint German ilitty she had learned while abroad —for she'did not wish to revive painful recollections by singing anything that might bo familiar to Waring. He moved away, and sat in deepest thought while lie listen-

ed.

“Aweel, that’s not ane o’ my favorites. I am not much of a musician—my opportunities have been scant—out I have an uncommon gude ear.” said Uncle Sandy. “Give us a Scotch sang, my dearie!” “If I am not presuming too far,” said Waring, coming over to lean on the piano, “Might I ask for an old favorite—‘Robin Adair?' ” “Ay, Hint will do,” from Uncle Sandy. "I need not have been so careful to spare his feelings,” thought Mona. “I am making a fool of myself. It is an age since

retreated when she began the song he had asked for. “That was an immense treat ’’ “Ay, there’s nae music like Scotch imisi' c nor is th re any sang- for melody an' p *e'.rv. •m’s- 1 r.n’— i. ' ,-tor e 1 vabi,. ilk** :• ■ >:<• . -angs,” s.ai i Uncle Sandy - - •'Oof Adult! ■ wn.” tni l Mona,

il

Id.;- say they do,” sai d

Uncle Sandy, cant* mptuously. “They’d aye claim everyt! i t'-*; hut if that lilt isna Scotch, aweel, I am no Scotch. Come, give me your arm, Mona, ITl just gang to my

bed. I’m awfu’ weary.”

"Then may be Mr. Waring would like smoke with me in the kitchen. I think we will have it all to ourselves in a few min-

utes,” saiil Kenneth.

“Thank you, I should. One grows a little too fond of the weed when one is freed from the restraints of society.” “It’s a very perneecious practice; but it’s just talking to the winds to protest against it. Good-night, sirs. Kenneth, there are the keys. Mr. Waring wLl need a drappie

after his pipe.”

“Good-night,” murmured Mona, as she gave her arm to her uncle. Waring bowed, but did not attempt shako hands with her. * It was an infinite relief to be alone, and locked into her own room. For a long time she thought confusedly, or rather a confused mass of mlxe 1 memory and thought thronged her brain, without any

effort of her will.

How vividly Wuring’s face, pale with painful emotion, the day they last met, came back to her. He had quite forgiven her; she felt that. He was a really good fellow. She wished they could lie friends again, as she was with Kenneth; but that would never be, she feared. She never could feel at ease with him. He looked as if he had suffered a good deal. Was it her fault? Oh, no! slie nevercould admit that. Site should like to let him know that she had generally a very good opinion of him, hut how should she find time to do so, when he had said more than once that he would only stay a couple of days? What a curious contradictory jumble life was altogether! Mona felt unaccountably unhappy, and, laying tier fair head on the pillow, she wept long and quietly before sleep closed her wet eyes.

I

attempted it.” she said aloud; “but I will try it If you like.” It was dreadfully annoying, but she could not steady her voice. She could not keep a certain tremulous pathos out of her notes. Men were so conceited—they had such a high opinion of themselves, that perhaps Leslie Waring would fancy, as she was so upset at meeting him, that she regretted having rejected him. Ah, no; he was too frank and honest, too simple and unselfish, to need the guarded treatment Lisle required. Lisle! why, he was not comparable to Leslie Waring. What wonders time and trouble had done for the latter! “Thank yon,” said Waring, from his chair in a shadowy corner, where he had

CHAPTER XXIV.—MAX PROPOSES. Morning brought renewed spirit and fresh courage. Mona could not help smiling nt the singular combination of circumstances which brought her once more face to face with j the man whose wife she had so nearly been. 1 It was fix dish to feel so uncomfortable I about meeting him. As he was perfectly ! [CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.) Positive and Negative. The Race Question is unset tled. But it is settled that Hood's Sa.-saparilln leads all remedies. Disease marches through all lands. But good health blesses all who take Hood's Sarsapardla. Dyspepsia is a great Foe of the human race. But Hood’s Sarsapari'la puts it to flight. Scrofula is one of the most terrible of diseases. But Hood's Sarsaparilla expels it from the system. The people of this day, like Job, suffer from boils. Hut Hood's Sarsapari'la is a sovereign remedy for them. Catarrh is one of the most disagreeable disorders. But Hood’s Sarsapa-Hla is sure to relieve and cure it. Rheumatism racks the system like a thumbscrew. But it retreats be r o’*e the power of Hood's Sarsaparilla. Loss of appet te leads to melancholia. But Hood's Sarsaparilla mares the plainest repast tickle the palate. L'fe is short and time is fleeting, but Hood's Sarsaparilla will bless humanity as the ages roll on. The devil’s way of trying to whiten his wan face is to try to blaiken everybody else. The Reason Why Morris' English Stable Powders have met with such remarkable success, giving universal satisfaction, is f.-om the fact that only the highest grade of drugs are used in its preparation. Every drug purchased is carefully examined and tested by a professional Chemist, hence its great superiority over adulterated articles which sell for same price, 25 cents. Sold by Albert Allen. nov

England is said to have over 1,000,000 widows.

Cured of Consumption.

t our years ago I commenced using Wells' New Cough Cure. The Doctor said I

Dr.

could not live till spring. I coughed continually. Had night sweats and was reduced to a skeleton. My cough was stopped and I am now able to do a hard day’s work.

FERRY TAYLOR,

nov LaEayette. Ind. Business worries are said to be the cause of 12 per cent of the cases of insanity. Gives Perfect Satisfaction. Mr. B. F. Keesling, of Logansport, Ind.,

writes as follows: “We have sold your Morris’ English Stable Liniment for the past twelve months and am free to say it is one of the heat selling and most satisfactory remedies we have ever handled. We have never had one instance where it has not given perfect satisfaction and we always recommend it

Sold by Albert Allen.

nov

The word penknife is one of the words found only once in the Bible.

Saved Them AH. Centerville. Iowa, October 2, 1889. Oents:—I liave used largely of Craft's Distemper Cure this season, and desire to express my entire satisfaction with it as a cure for distemper. When I received the first order I had twenty-nine bad rases of Distemper, one having already died. Our entire herd of mares, numbering some three hundred, was exposed to Distemper, but we followed your directions carefully and succeeded in ssvinz all the rest of them. Respectfully Sold by AlbertoUlen. D ^ BnAD ^- For aaie, a oeautiful home on East Seminary street; house of eight rooms, Uu-ge shade trees, large lot, choise fniU of all kinds, tf H. A. Mills. Highest price paid for hides, pelt and tallow by Vaneleave & Son. Ut

When Baby was sick, we gave her Csstorio. When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria Wlieo rile became Miss, she clung to Castoria W?*’*t^ehad Children, she gave them Castoria

Children Cry for Pitcher’* Castoria. Children Cry lor Pitcher’* Castoria. Children Cry for Pitcher’* Castoria.

a