Indianapolis News, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 May 1897 — Page 3

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THE INDIANAPOLIS NEWS, SATURDAY MAY 1. 1897.

THE THREE PARTNERS Or. . Tie Bii Strife ob Hoan Trei Hill.

By BRET HARTE.

Copyritht. !**?, B*r Bre< lUrte. ?**And wh^n It dow oome you’ll nK* anil Bckiy lust araltsin' and uml takln' lha rhlnf awts In th« syna>togu<». And you’ll have a fiao naw to the show.” Kit her he was too Intoxicated with his vengeful vision or the shadows of the loom hud deepened, but he did not see the quick Hush that had Hsen to his wife's face with this allusion to Barker, nor the after settling of her handsome ftaturv* into a dogged determination equal to his own. His blind fury against the three partners did not touch her Ctuioetty; she was only struck with the evident depth of bis emotion. Ho had never been a braggart; his hostility had always ^been laiy and cynical. Romem1 wring this, she had a fctlnt stirring of respect for the undoubted courage and consciousness of strength shown In this wild but single-handed crusade aganst wealth and power; father, perhaps. It seemed to her to condone her own weaklier* In her youthful and Inexplicable passion for him. No wonder she had submitted. ’ "Then you heve nothing more to tell meT' she said, after a pause, rising and gt ing toward the mantel. "You n?edn’t light up for me.” he tvtumed. rising elsp. "I am going. I nless.” he added, with his coarse laugh, "you think It wouldn't look well for Mr*. JlomcasUe to have been sitting in the dr.rk with—a stranger." Hy paused as the contemptuously put down the candlestick and threw the unlit match into the grate. No. I’ve nothing more to tell. Hq s a fancy-looking pup. You’ll take him for twenty-one,, though he's only rtgteen -clean-Pmbed and perfect—but for‘One thing—’. He stopped. He met her quick look of . Interrogation, however, with a lowering silence that, nevertheless, changed again as he surveyed her erect figure by the faint light of the window with a sardonic smile. “He favors you, I think? and in all but one thing, too." "And that?” she queried coldly, as he seemed to hesitate. »"Hc ain’t ashatn^ of meT" he returned with a laugh. «■ The dear closed behind him; she heard • his heavy step descend the creaking stairs; he was gone.* She wont to the window and threw.it open, as if to get rtd of the atmosphere charged with his presence—a preaenS? still so potent that she now knew that for the last five minutes she had been, to her horror, struggling against It* magnetism. She even recoiled now at the thought of her child an tf, in these new confidences over It, it had revived the. old Intimacy In this link of their common flesh. She looked down from her window on the square shoulders, thick throat, and crisp matted hair of her huajmnd as he vanished in the darkifc^ys. ar|d drew a breath of freedom—a frdfcdora' not so much from him as from her own weakness that he was bearing away with him into the ex one ruling nl^ht. She shut the window and sank down In her chair again, but in the encompast-iug npd compassionate obscurity of the room. And this was the man she had k-ved and for whom she had wrecked her young life! Or Was It love? and if not, .■how was she better than he? Worse, for he was mors loyal to thtft passion that had brought them together and its responsibilities than she was. She had suffered the perils and pangs of maternity. and yet had only the mere animal yearning for' her offspring, while he had taken over the toil and duty and even the devotion of parentage himself. But then she remembered also how ha had fascinated her—a simple school girl— by his sheer domineering strength, and lu.W the objections of her parents to this coaree and common man had forced her into a clandestine intimacy that ended in her complete subjection to him. She remembered the birth of an infant whosn concealment from her parents and friends was cotajmsserl by his low cunning; she remembered the late atonement of marriage pa-offered by the man she had already begun to loathe and fear, and whom she now believed was eager «ity for her inheritance. She rememIiered her abject compliance through tin greater fear of the world, of the stormy scenes that followed their lll-omentd union, of hsr final abandonment of her husband, and the efforts of her friends and family who had rescued the last of her property from him. She was glad she remembered it; she ^•weit upon It, upon his cruelty, his coarseness and vulgarity, imt'.l she saw, as she honestly behoved, the hidden springs of his affection for their child. It was Ids . child in nature, however it might have favored her In loqks; it w-as hus own brutal self he was worshiping In his brutal progeny. How else could ft have ignored her—Its own mother? She never doubu-l the truth cf what he had told her—she had seen It In his own triumphant eyes. And yet she would have made a kind mother; she remembered wltfe a smile and a slight rtstry of color the affection of Barker’s lathy for her; she remembered with a deepening of that color the thrill of satisfaction she had fek in her husband's fulmtnattons against Mrs. Barker, and, more, than all, she -frit In h‘.s blind and fooi'.Ah hatred of Barker himself a delirious condonation Of the strange feeling that had sprung up In her heart for Barker’s simple, straightforward nature. How could lie understand; how could they understand (by the plural she meant Mrs. Darker and Horncastle) a character so innately noble? It, her strange attraction toward him she had felt a charming sense Of what she believed was a superior and even matronly protection; In the utter isolation of her life now—and, with her husband's foolish abuse of him ringing in her ears—it seemed a sacred duty. She had loot a son. Providence had sent her an ideal friend to replace him. And this was quite consistent, too. with a faint smile that began to play about her mouth as she recalled Barker's delightful and Irresistible youthfulness. a. ' There was the clatter of hoofs and the sound of many voices from the street. Mrs. Horncastle knew it was the "down coach" changing horses; it would be off again in a few moments, and. no doubt, bearing her husband away with It. A pew feeling of rOU«}f came over her as •he at laat heard the warning "All aboard!" and the great vehicle clattered and roiled into the darkness, trailing its burning lights across her walls and celling. But now she heard steps on Jhc staircase, a- pause before her room, a Coor. the rustle of- a skirt, and a little feminine cry of protest as a man apparently tried to follow the figure into jhe room. "No. no. 1 tell you no.” remonstrated the woman’s voice In a hurried whisper. "It won't do. Everybody knows me here. You must not come In now. You must wait to be announced by the servant, flush. Go:" * I There was a slight struggle, the sound ] of a kiss, and U|e woman succeeded in finally shutting the door. Then she walked slowly, but with a certain familiarity, toward the ^mantel, struck a match and lit the candle. The light shone upon the bright eyes and slightly flushed face of Mrs. Barker. But the motionless woman in the chair had recognised her voice and the voice of her companion at once. And’ then their eyes met. Mrs. Barker drew back but did not utncastie, with eyes even Companion's, smiled, to Mrs. Bark-

|

she said Indignant- | gesture around the so." said Mrs Horn- ’ gesture, "but,” she put me Into It. II they did not exoect r her mistake. "No, Ically, “of course

with nervous

Vn.,'?y? ** I Just fan down

from Marysville to take a look at my father's old house on my way to Hyractus. 1 hope 1 haven’t disturbed you. Perhaps.” she said with sudden eagerness, "you were asleep when I came In!" "No,” said Mrs. Horncastle, "1 was not steeping nor dreaming. 1 heard you come In." "Some of these men are such Idiots,' said Mrs. Barker, with a half hysterical laugh. '.They seem to think If a woman accepts the least courtesy from them they've n right to be familiar. But I fancy that fellow was a little astonished When I shut the door In his ffioe." “I fancy he was.” returned Mrs. Horncastle. dryly. "But I shouldn't call Mr. Van Loo an idiot. He has the reputation of being a cautious business man.” Mrs. Barker bit her Up. Her companion Jtad been recognized. She rose with a slight flirt of her skirt.' "I suppose I must go and get a room; there was noWMiy in the office when I came. Everything is badly managed here since my father took away the best servants to Hymettus.” She moved with affected Carelessness toward the door, when Mrs. Horncastle. without rising from her seat, said; "Why not stay here?" Mrs. Barker brightened for a moment. "Oh.” she said, with polite deprecation, ”1 couldn't think of turning you out." "I don't intend you shall." returned Mrs. Horncastle. "We will stay here together until you go with me to Hymettus, or until Mr. Van lam leaves the hotel. He will hardly attempt to come in here again If I remain." Mrs. Barker, with a half laugh, sat down irresolutely. Mrs. Horhcastle gazed at her curiously. She was evidently a novice in this sort of thing. But, strange to say—and I leave the ethics of this for the sex to aettle—the fact did not soften Mrs. Horncastle's heart, nor in the least qualify her attitude toward the younger woman. After an awkward pause, Mrs, Barker rose again. "Well, it's very good of you. and —and—I’ll Just run out and wash my hands and get the dust off me and come beck.” “No, Mrs. Barker," said Mrs. Horncastle, rising and approaching her. "you will first wash your hands of this Mr. Van Loo and get some of the dust of the rendezvous off you before you do anything else. You can do It by simply telling him, should you meet him In the hall, that I was sitting here when he came In and heard everything. Depend upon It. he won’t trouble you again." But Mrs. Barker, though inexperienced In love, was a good tighter. The beot of the sex are. She dropped into the rocking chair, and began rocking backward and forward while still tugging at her gloves, and said. In a gradually warming voice: "I certainly shall not magnify Mr. Van Loo's silliness to that importance. And I have yet to learn what you mean by talking about a rendezvous. And I want to know',” she continued,suddenly stopping her rocking and tllt'.ng the rockers impertinently behind her, as, with her elbows squared on the chair arms, she tilted her own face defiantly up into Mrs. Horncastle'*. "how a woman In your position—who don’t live with her husbanddares talk to me.” There was a lull before the storm. Mrs. Horncastle approached nearer, and, laying her hand on the back of the chair, leaned over her, and, with a white face, and a metallic ring in her voice, said: "It is jUct because I am woman in my position that I do! It is because I do't live with my husband that I can tell you what It will be when you no longer live witn yours—which will be the Inevitable result of what you are now doing. It Is because I was in this position when the very man who is puMuing you because he thinks you are discontented with your husband once thought he could pursue me because I had left mine. l r ou are here with him alone, without the knowledge of your husband; call it folly, caprice, vanity, or what you like R can have but one end—to put you in my place at last to be considered the fair game afterward for, any■n^ip who may succeed him. You call 1Wl mm and the truth of what I say by telling him now that I heard all." "Suppose he doesn’t care whkt y<ju have heard?” said Mrs. Barker sharply. "Suppose he says nobody would believe you. if ‘telling' Is your game. Suppose he is a friMKl of my husband and he th’nks hire a much better guardian of my reputation than a woman like you. " Suppose l o should be the first one to tell my husband of tjie foul slander invented by you?” For an instant Mrs. Horncastle was taken aback by the audacity of the woman before her. She knew the simple eonflVence and boyish trust of Barker in his wife, in aplte of their sometimes strained relations, and she knew how difficult it would be to shake It. And she had no idea of betraying Mrs. Barker's secret to him. though she had made this scene in his intc-rfSt. She had wished to save Mrs. Barker from a compromising situation, even If there was a certain vindictiveness In her exposing her to herself. Yet she knew it was quite possible now, if Mrs. Barker had immediate access to her husband. that she would convince him of her perfect innoc nee. Nevertheless, she had still great confidence In Van Loo’s fear of scandal and his utter unmanliness. She knew he was not in love with Mrs. Barker, and this puzzled her when she conrfderwl the evident risk he was running now. Her face, however, betrayed nothing. She drew back from Mrs. Barker, and with an indifferent and graceful gesture toward the door, said, as she leaned against the. mantel: “Go, then, and see thfc* much-abused gentleman, and then go together with him and make peace with your husband—even on those terms. If I have saved you from the consequences of your folly I shall be willing to bear Sven his blame.” “Whatever I do.” said Mr*. Barker, rising hotly, "I shall not stay here any longer to be Insulted.” She flounced ouf of the room and swppt down the staircase into the office. Here she found an overworked clerk, and with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes wanted to know why, in her father's hotel, she had found her own sitting-room engaged, and had been obliged to watt half an hour before she could be shown into a decent apartment to remove her hat and cloak; and how it was that even the gentleman who had kindly escorted her had evidently been unable to procure her any aselst&nce. She said Uhls In a somewhat high voice, which might have reached the ear* of that g*ntleman. had he been In the vicinity. But he was not, and she was forced to meet the somewhat dazed apologies of the clerk alone, and to accompany the chambermaid to a room only a few paces distant from the one she had quitted. Here she hastily removed her outer duster and hat, and washed her hands and consulted her excited face In the mirror, with the door ajar and an ear sensitively attuned to any step in the corridor. But all this was effected so rapidly that she was at last obliged to sit down In a chair near the half-opened door and wait. She waited five minutes—ton—but still no footstep. Then she went out into the corridor and listened, and then, smoothing her face, she slipped downstairs, past the door of that hateful room, and reappeared before the clerk with a smiling tut somewhat pale and languid face. 8he hail found the roum~very comfortable. but it was doubtful whether she would stay over night or go on to Hymettus. Hud anybody been inquiring for her? She expected to meet friends. No? AWT her escort—the gentleman who came with her—was possibly in the bll-Uard-room or the bar 1 ?” "O no. He was gone," said the clerk. “Gone,” eschocd Mrs. Barker. “Impossible. He was—ho was here only a moment agoi" The clerk rang a bell sharply. The stable man appeared. “That tall, smooth-faced man. in a high hat who came with the lady." said the clerk severely and concisely, "didn't you tell me tie was gone?" "Ye!-, sir.” said the stablemaft. "Arc you sure?" interrupted Mrs. Barker, with a dazzling smile that, however. masked tudden tightening round her heart. "Quite sure,.r.is*." said the stableman, “for he was in the yard when Steptoe came after missing the coach. He wanted a buggy to take him over to the Divide. We liadn t one, so he went over

to the other stables, and he didn't come I hack, so I reckon he's gone. I rememj her it because Steptoe- canto by h mliii ute after he'd gone In another buggy, i and. as he was going to the Divide, too. | I wondered why the gentleman hadn't gone with hint." ■“ "And he left no message for me? He : said nothing?” asked Mrs. Barker, quite i breathless, but stilL smiling. "He said nothing to me but 'Isn't that 1 Steptoe over there?’ when Septoe came ! in. And 1 rormnilter lie said It kinder j suddent-as If he was reminded o' I suthln* he'd forgot, and then he asked i for a buggy. Le see. miss." added the j man, with a certain rough consideration | for her disappointment, "that's mebbe j why he clean forgot to leave a message.-' Mrs. Barker turned away and ascended the stairs. Selfishness is quick to recogi nlze selfishness, and she saw In a flash j the reason of Van Loo's abandonment of , her. .Some fear of discovery had alarmed I him; perhaps Steptoe knew her husband; ! perhaps he had heard of Mrs. Horncasi tie's possession of the sitting-room; perI haps—for she had not seen him since j J their playful struggle at the door—he J | had recognized the woman who was ! j there, and the selfish coward had^ run j away. Yes; Mrs. Horncastle was right; she had been only a miserable dupe. Her checks blazed as she entered the room she had just quitted, and threw herself in a chair by the window. She bit her lips as she remembered how for the j past three months she had been slowly j yielding to Van Trio's cautious but insini uatiug solicitation. from a flirtaI tion in the San Francisco hotel to a clandestine meeting in the street: from a ride in the suburbs to a supper in a fast restaurant after the theater. Other women did it who were fashionable and rich, as Van Loo had pointed out to her. Other fashionable women also gambled in stocks and had their private broker in a “Oharley” or a “Jack.” Why should not Mrs. Barker have business with a “Paul” Van Loo. particularly, as his fast craze permitted secret meetings—for business of this kind could not be conduct?*! in public, and permitted the fair gamblers to call at private offices without fear and without reproach? Mrs. Barker’s vanity. Mrs. Barker’s love of ceremony and form, Mrs. Barker's snobbishness, were flattered by the attentions of this polished gentleman with a foreign name, which even had the flavor of nobility, who never picked up her fan and handed it to her without bowing, and always rose when she entered the room. Mrs. Barker's scant school girf knowledge was touched by this gentleman who spoke French fluently, and delicately explained to her the libretto of an opera bouffe And now she had finally yielded to a meeting out of San Francisco—and an ostensible visit—still as a speculator—to one or two mining districts—with her bioker. This was the boldest of her steps —an original idea of the fashionable Van Loo—which, no doubt, in time would become a craze, too. But it was a long step—and there was a streak of rustic decorum In Mrs. Barker's nature—the Instinct that made Kitty Carter keep a perfectly secluded and distinct sitting-room in the days when she served her father’s guests—that now had impelled her to make it a proviso that the first step of tier Journey should be from her old home In her father's hotel. It was this Instinct of proprieties that had revived in her suddenly at the door of the old sitting-room. Theh a new phase of the situation flashed upon her. It was hard for her vanity to accept Van Loo's desertion as voluntary and final. What if that hateful woman had lured him away by some trick or artfully designed message? She was capable of such meanness to insure the fulfilment of her prophecy. Or, more dreadful thought, what If she had somehold on his affections—she had Raid that he had pursued her—or, more infamous still, there was some secret understanding between them, and that she—Mrs. Barker —was the dupe of them both! What was she doing in the hotel at such a moment? What was her storj^ of golhg to Hymettus but a He as transparent as her own? The tortures of Jealousy, which Is as often the incentive as It is the result of passion, began to rack her. She had probably as yet. known no real passion for this man, but with the thought of his abandoning her and the conception of his faithlessness came the wish to hold and keep him that was dangerously near it. What if he was even then in that room, the room where she said she wouid not stay to be Insulted, and they, thus secure against her intrusion, were laughing at her now'? She half rose at the thought, but a sound of horses’ hoofs in the stable yard arrested her. She ran to the window which gave upon it. and crouching down | beside It, listened eagerly. The clatter or hoofs ceased, the stableman was talking to some one; suddenly she heard the stableman say, “Mrs. Barker is here." H-“T heart leaped. Van Loo had returned. But here the voice of the other man which she mid not heard arose for the first time clear and distinct. "Are you quite sure? I didn’t know she left San Francisco." The room reeled around her. The voice was George Barker's, her husband! "Very well," he continued, "you needn’t put up my horse for the night. I may take her back a little later in the buggy.” In another moment she had swept dow-n the passage and burst Into the other room. Mrs. Horncastle was sitting by the table with a book in her hand. She started as the half-maddened woman closed the door, locked it behind her, and cast herself on her knees at her feet. "My husband is here,” she gasped. "What shall I do? In heaven's name, help me.” "Is Van Loo still here?" asked Mrs. Horncastle quickly. “No; gone. He went when I came.” Mrs. Horncastle caught her hand and looked intently Into her frightened face. "Then, what have you to fear from your husband?" she said abruptly. "You don’t understand. He didn’t know I was here. He thought me in San Fran-

cisco.”

“Does he know It now?” "Yes. I heard the stableman tell him. Couldn't you say I came here with you: that we were here together; that It was Just a little freak of ours? Oh. no!” Mrs. Horncastle thought a moment. “Yes,” she said: “we'U see him here together." "Oh, no! No!” said Mrs. Barker suddenly. clinging to her dress and looking fearfully toward the door. "I couldn’t, couldn’t see him now. Say I’m sick, tired out, gone to my room." "But you’ll have to see him later,” said Mrs. Horncastle wonderingly. "Yes; but he may go first. I heard him tell them not to put up his horse." “Good.” said Mrs. Horncastle suddenly. "Oo to your room and lock the door, and I’ll come to you later. Stop. Would Mr. Barker be likely to disturb you If I told him you would like to be alone?" “No, he never dot-s. I often tell him

that."

Mrs. Horncastle smiled faintly. “Come, quick, then.” she said, "for he may come here first.” Opening the door she passed into the halt dark and empty hall. "Now run!" She heard the quick rustle of Mrs. Barker's skirt die away in the distance, the opening and shutting of a door, silence, and then turned buck into her own room. She was none too soon.. Presently she | heard Barker's voice saying. "Thank you. I can find the way.” his still buoyant step on the staircase, and then saw Tvla brown curls rising above the railing. The light streaming through the open ! door of the sitting room Into the half lit ball had partially dazzled him. and, alteady bewildered, he was still more daz- | sled at the unexpected apparition of the smiling face and bright eyes of Sirs. Horncastle standing In the doorway. "You have fairly caught us." she said, with charming composure, “but I had half a mind to let you wander round the S hotel a little longer. Come In." Bar- ( kev followed her In mechanically and she closed the door. "Now sit down." she said gayly. "and tell me how- you knew we were here, and what you mean oy ( surprising us at this hour.” Barker's ready color always rose on meeting Mrs. Horncastle. for whdm j entertained a respectful admiration, noi L w-ithmft some fear of her worldly superiority. He flushed, bowed, end stared somewhat blankly around the room.' at th« familiar walls, at the chair from which Mrs. Horncastle had Just risen.

SAFE SARSAPARILLA. You get it when you" ask for Ayer’s,

WHAT

makes Ayer’s Sarsa-i Sarsaparilla half a century to eu- ment you will do well to try to fathparilla the favorite j grave its character. ! om. Any chemical compound may family remedy? But its character is fixed. It has 1 be palmed off as sarsaparilla, if you That’s a question worth consider- ’ rivals who blow great bubbles of' are not permitted to know what you ing. There is a certain censorship reputation. It only points to its j get when you ask for “sarsaparilla.”

exercised iu respect of family affairs medals of merit which endeavors to defend the home j which are perma-

nent whi T j a mi T - lion buboles are blown and burst. Fifty years of

That is

life from dangers.

The Mother Watches

the books tiiat are read, the friends

that are made, the people and things ^ res ’ w , that are introduced to the family the r ® c ° rd of c i rc l e I A >' er s Sarsapa2s*o parent would bring an tin-jf^ 4 * The record known person into his home, a per-1 j 8 °®J ) 8111 0 son without a known record, no;’£ nor . ’ matter what appearance the person t0 iim in question made, or what position “You know he claimed. , y° ur * et - And wise parents are as watchful ; j :iug when you get of medicines as of men. They want j Ayer’s Sarsapato know what the medicine is rilla.” 1 hat s the that they bring into the family, to open sesame that be sure there is nothing injurious admits Ayer’s to or hurtful in the remedy that is to ; the family. Ayer’s be intrusted with health or even | is the only sarsalife itself. , ; parilla of which Enquiry shows that Ayer’s Sarsa- j this can be said, parilla is the only sarsaparilla that The formula of presents itself to the home, its; Ayer’s Sarsapa“character” in its hand, like a good rilla is sent free and honest servant. It takes time | to any reputable to make character. Reputation is | physician on reof shorter growth ; it is what we are quest, and so the said to be or appear to be. Charac- r e m e d y goes

ter is

What We Are.

Into thousands of families by a physician’s introduction. The physi.

therefore to be classed as “nostrums and dangerous.” Read the rule governing the admission of exhibits to the Fair, known as Rule 15: “ Articles that are in any way dangerous or offensive, also patent medicines, nostrums, and empirical preparations, whose ingredients are concealed. will not be admitted to the expo-

sition.”

You can understand in the light of this fact, the .(Value of Ayer’s

((medals. They

mean character. Other sarsa parillas came to the World’s Fair gates with a rainbow bubble of reputation. But the judges said: “It’s not what you look like or what you call yourself. It’s what you are. What are you?”

man whose name is John Jones, and who comes into the family as Mr. John, is dangerous. He’s not to be trusted. It’s the same with the medicine. If it borrows the name sarsaparilla, because it has a little sarsaparilla flavor or a sarsaparilla smell, it’s dangerous. It's a fraud. Tiie man with the mask may be all right, but you don’t want him

around the house.

Masked Medicines, like masked men, are unknown quantities. The masked man may be a philanthropist, wanting to do his good deeds in secret, and so choosing night and wearing a mask that he may hide his benevolence. He way be —but the chances are

he’s a burglar. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan is the type of all these

motley maskers. He veiled his face on the claim that his beauty was too rare for the common eye to gaze on. But underneath the veil was the face of a demon. Every sarsa-

parilla that promises healing, but wears a veil over its formula is of

the veiled prophet class. It’s easy

And as they could . t o be a. prophet. You have only not say what they to promise. Ayer’s Sarsaparilla were the gates of deals with history. It points back the Fair were shut to its fifty yfara of cures, a

Family Favorites.

Reputation is like the paint on the

actor’s face, it can be rubbed off. cian knows it is a Character is like the wrinkles and pure remedy and lines that time makes, which cannot j a safe one. Does

be erased. Character is what is this fact strike

graven in granite. Reputation is you with all the force it should?i Is there any danger in this? So what is written m sand. Shakes-; Turn it around. Put it this way: much danger, that the "World’s Fair peare well calls reputation a “bub-; You don’t know what you are get-1 Commissioners, at Chicago, in 1893, ble,” and character may well be the | ting under the name of sarsapa-, would admit no other sarsaparilla medal with its indelible record of, rilla, unless you get Ayers. There’s to the Fair but Ayer’s, shutting out achievement. It has taken Ayer’s | a depth of possibility in that state-j all others because they were secret.

against them. It was only Ayer’s Sarsaparilla that could say: “lam > called sarsaparilla r* and I am sarsaparilla. Prove me, and see.” The family can’t afford to admit what the Fair excluded. It can’t afford to confuse character with reputation, the bubble with the medal. The man with an alias is dangerous, even if the alias is one of the names given him in baptism. The

record which cannot be imitated, as the remedy is, by I’milation Sarsaparilla. Ayer’s Sarsaparflla is the fatorite of the family, because it has a record which stands for character because you know what you are getting when you get it. Remember: You don’t know what you’re getting unless you get Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. “ AYER’S CUREBOOK ” A story pi cures told by the cured, •will e’flectuklly answer any que*- - tions as to'what Ayer’s Sarsaparilla does. A book of too pages. halftone portraits, royal Holland covers. Tree. J. C. Ayer Co., Lowell, Mas*.

The safe rule in buying sarsaparilla: Ask for the best and you 'll get Ayer’s. Ask for Ayer’s and you ’ll get the. best.

and finally at his wife's glove, which Mrs. Horncastle had a moment beforo f.s-tentaiionsly thrown on the table. Seeing which, she bounced upon it with assumed archness, and pretended to conceal it. "I had no idea my wife was here,” he said at last, "and I was quite surprised when the rpan told me. for she had not written to me about it.” As his face was brightening, she for the first time noticed that his frank gray eyes had an abstracted look, and there was a faint line of contraction on his youthful forehead. "Still less," he added, “did I look for the pleasure of meeting you. For I only came here to inquire about my old partner,’ Demorest, who arrived * from Europe a iew days ago, and who should have- reached Hymettus early this afternoon. But now I hear he came all the way by coach instead of rail, and got off at the crossroad, and we must have passed each other on the different trails. So my journey would have gone for nothing, only that I now shall have the pleasure of going back with you and Kitty.. It will be a lovely drive by moonlight. Relieved by this revelation, it was easy work for Mrs. Horncastle to launch cut into a playful, tantalizing, witty— but. I grieve to say, entirely imaginative —account of her escapade with Mrs. Barker. Hpw, left alone at the Stfn Francisco hotel while their gentleman friends were enjoying themselves at Hymettus. they resolved upon a little trip, partly for the purpose of looking Into some small investments of their own and partly for the fun of the thing. What funny experlen6es they had. How, ill particular, one horridly inquisitive, vulgar wretch had been boring a European fellow-passenger who was going to Hymettus, finally asking him where he had come from last, and when he answered "Hymettus." thought the man was Insulting him— “But.” Interrupted the laughing Barker. "that passenger may have been Demorest, who has just come from Greece, and stnely Kitty would have recognized him." Mrs. Horncastle Instantly saw her blunder, and not only retrieved it, but turned it to account. Ah. yes! But by that time poor Kitty, unused to long Journeys and the heat, was utterly fagged out. was asleep and perfectly unrecognizable in veils and dusters on the back seat of the coach. And this brought her to the point—which was that, she was sorry to say, on arriving the poor child was nearly wild with a headache from fatigue and had gone to bed, and she had promised not to disturb

her.

The undisguised amusement, mingled with relief, that had overspread Barker’s lace during this lively recital might have pricked the conscience of Mrs. Horncastle. but for some reason I fear it didn't. But P. emboldened her to go i on. "I said I promised her that I would see she wasn't disturbed, but, of course, now that you, her husband, have come

if— '

“Not for worlds," interrupted Barker earnestly. "I know’ poor Kitty’s headaches, and I never disturb her, poor child, except when I’m thoughtless.” And here one of the most thoughtful men In the world, m Ms sensitive consideration of others, beamed at her with such frank and wonderful eyes that thearch hypocrite before ntm with difficulty suppressed a hysterical desire to laugh, and felt the corwclous blood flush her to the roots of her hair. "You know,” he went on with sigh half of relief and half of reminiscence, “that I often think I’m a great bother to a clear-headed, sensible girl like Kitty. She know* people so much belter than I do. She's wonderfully equipped for the world, and, you see, I’m only ‘lucky/ as everybody says, and I dare say part of my luck was to have got her. I’m very glad she’s a friend of youra, you know, for somehow I always fancied you were not interested in her, or that you didn’t understand each other, until now. It’s odd that nice women don’t always like nice women, isn't it? I'm glad she was with you, for I was quite startled to hear she waa here, and couldn’t make it out. I thought at first she might have got anxious about little 'Stat,' who is with me and the nurse at Hymettus. But I’m glad it was only a lark. I shouldn't wonder," he added with a laugh,"although aii=

always declare* she Isn’t one of those ‘doting idiotic mothers,’ that she found it a little dull without the boy, for all shu thought it was better for me to take him somewhere for a change of air.” The situation was becoming more difficult for Mrs. Horncastle than she had conceived. There had been a certain excitement in it* first direct appeal to her tact and courage, and even, she believed, ajn unselfish desire to save the relations between husband and wife If she could. But she had not calculated upon his unconscious reveiation, nor upon their effect upon herself. She had concluded to believe that Kitty had. In a moment cf folly, lent herself to this hare-brained escapade, but^t now might be possible that it had been deliberately planned. Kitty had sent her husband and child away three weeks before. Had she told the truth? How long had this been going on? And if the solless Van Loo had deserted her nw, was It not, perhaps, the miserable ending of an intrigue rather than its beginning? Had she been as great a dupe of this woman as the husband before her? A new and double consciousne&j came over her that for a moment pr wen ted her from meeting his honest eyes. She felt the shame of being an accomplice mingled with a fierce joy at the idea of a climax that might separate him from his wife forever. Luckily he did not notice it, but with a continued sense of relief threw himself back in his chair, and, glancing familiarly round the walls broke Into his youthful laugh. "Lord! how I remember this room fn the old days. It was Kitty's own private sitting-room, you know, and I used to think It looked Just as fresh and pretty as she. I used to think her crayon drawing wonderful, and still more wonderful that She should have that unneceasary talent when it was quite enough for her to be just.‘Kitty.’ You know, don’t you, how you feel at those times when you’re quite happy in oe!ng inferior ” He stopped a moment, with a sudden recollection that Mrs. Horncastle’s marriage had been notoriously unhappy. "I mean.” he went on, with a shy little laugh and an Innocent attempt at gallantry, which the very di-, rectness of his ample nature made atrociously obvious. "I mean what you have made lots of young fellows feel. There used to be a picture of Colonel Brigg on the mantelpiece, in full uniform, aud signed by himself ’for Kitty’; and, Lord! how Jealous I was of it, for Kitty never took presents from gentlemen, and nobody, even, was allowed In here, though she helped her father all over the hotel. She was awfully strict in those days,” he interpolated, with a thoughtful look and a half sigh, "but then she wasn’t married. I proposed to her in this very room! Lorrl! I remember how frightened .1 was.” He stepped for an instant, and then said with a certain timidity, "Do you mind my telling you something about it?” Mrs. Horncastle was hardly prepared to hear these Ingenuous domestic details, but she smiled vaguely, although she could not suppress a somewhat impatient movement with her hands. Even Barker noticed It, but to her surprise moved a little nearer to her, and in a half-entrea:ing way said: "I hope I don’t bore you. but it's something confidential. Do you know that she first refused me?” Mrs. Horncastle smiled, but could not resist a slight toss of her head. “I believe they all do when they are sure of a man." "No!" said Barker, eagerly, "you don't understand. I proposed to her because I thought I was rich. In a foolish moment I thought I had discovered that some old stocks I had had acquired a fabulous value. She believed it. too. but because she thought ! was now a rich man and she only a poor girl—a mere servant to her father's guests-she refused me. Refused me because she thought 1 might regret It In the future, because she would not have it said that she had taken advantage of my proposal only when I was rich enough to make it.” “Well,” said Mrs. Horncastle, Incredulously. looking straight before her. "and then?” "In about an hour I discovered my error. that my stocks were worthless; that I was still a poor man. I thought It only honest to return to her and tell her, even though I "had no hope. Then she pitied me and cried and accepted me. I tell It to you as her friend.” He drew' a little nearer and quite fraternally laid his hand upon her own. "I know' you won't betray me, though you may think

it wrong for me to have told It; but I wanted you to know how good she was and true." For a moment Mrs. Horncastle was amazed and discomfited, although she saw, with the inscrutable instinct of her sex, no inconsistency between the Kitty of those days and the Kitty now shamefully hiding from her husband in the same hotel. No doubt Kitty had some good reason for her chivalrous act. But she could see the unmistakable effect of that act upon the more logically reasoning husband, and that it might lead him to be more merciful to the later wrong. And there was a keener irony that his first movement of unconscious kindliness toward her was the outcome of his affection for his undeserving wife. "You said just now she was more practical than you." she said, dryly. "Apart from this evidence of It. what other reasons have you for thinking so? Do you refer to her independence or her dealings in the stock market?" she added, with a laugh. "No,” said Barker seriously, “for I do not think her quite practical there—Indeed, I’m afraid she Is about as bad as I am. But Tm glad you have spoken, for now I can talk confidentially with you, and as you and she are both in the same ventures, perhaps she will feel less compunction in hearing from you—as your own opinion—what I have to tell you than if I spoke to her myself. I am afraid she trusts implicitly to Van Loo’s Judgment as her broker. I believe he is strictly honorable, but the general opinion of hi* business In sight is not nigh. They -perhaps I ought to say he—have been at least so unlucky thaX they might have learned prudence. The loss of $20,000 in three months—’’ "Twenty thousand!” echoed Mrs. 'Horn“Yes; why, you knew that; It was in the mine you said she visited; or. perhaps,” he added hastily,' as he flushed at his Indiscretion, "she didn't tell you that.” But Mrs. Horncastle as hastily said: •*Yes—yes—of course, only I had forgotten the amount,” and he continued; "That loss would have frightened any man; but you women are more daring. Only Van Loo ought to have withdrawn. Don’t you think so? Of course, I couldn't say anything to him without seeming to condemn my own wife; I couldn't say anything to her because K’s her own money." “I did not know that Mrs. Barker had any money of her own,” said Mrs. Horncastle. “Well, I gave it to her.” sSdd Barker, with sublime simplicity, "and that would make It all the worse for me to speak about It." Mrs. Horncastle was silent. A new theory flashed upon her which seemed to reconcile all the previous inconsistencies of the situation. Van Loo, under the guise of a lover, was really possessing himself of Mrs. Barker s money. This accounts for the risks he was running in this escapade, w’hich were so Incongruous to the rascal's nature. He was calculating that the scandal of an Intrigue would relieve him of the perils of criminal defalcation. It was compatible with Kitty's innocence, though it did not relieve her vanity of the part it played in this despicable* comedy of passion. All that Mrs. Horncastle thought of now was the effect of its eventful revelation upon the man before her. Of course, he would overlook his wife's trustfulness and business ignorance—it would seem so like his own unselfish faith. That was the fault of all unselfish goodness; it even too* the color of adjacent evil, without altering the nature of eitehr Mrs. Horncastle set her teeth tightly together, but her beautiful mouth smiled upon Barker, ihot.gh her eyes were bent upon the table-cloth before her. "I shall do all I can to Impress your views upon her," she said at last, "though I fear they will have little weight if given us my own. And you overrate my general Influence with her." Her handsome head drooped In such a thoughtful humility that Barker instinctively drew nearer lo her. Besides, she had not lifted her dark lashes for some moments, and he had the still youthful habit of looking frankly into- the eyes ot those he addressed. » "No," he said eagerly; "how could I? She could not help but love you and do as you would wish. I can't tell you how glad and relieved I am to find that you

and she have become such friends. You know I always thought you beautifuL I always thought you so clever—I was even a little frightened of you, but I never until now knew you were so good. No; stop. Yes; I did know it. Do you remember once In San Francisco, when I feund you with tho 'Sta* In your lap In the drawing-room? g knew' It then. You tried to make me think It was a whim— the fancy of a bored and worried woman. But I knew better. And I knew what you were thinking then. Shall I tell ; you?" > As her eyes were still cast down, al- j though her mouth was still smiling, in ! his endeavors to look Into them his face j was quite near hers. He fancied that It bore the look she had worn once before, j "You were thinking." he said in a voice which had grown suddenly quite heslta- ; ting and tremulous—he did not know why j —“that the poor little baby was quite friendless and alone. You were pitying It—you know you were—because there was no one to give It the loving care that was Us due, and because It was Intrusted to that hired nurse In that great hotel. You were thinking how you would lovo It if It were yours, and how cruel It was that love was sent without an object to waste Itself upon. You were; I saw It in your'face.” 4 She suddenly lifted her eyes and looked full Into his with a look that held and possessed him. For a moment his wjiolc sou! seemed to tremble on the verge of their lustrous depths, and he drew back dizzy and frightened. What he saw there he never clearly knew; but. whatever It was, seemed to suddenly change his relations to her, to tho room, to his wife, to the world without. It was a glimpse of a world of which he knew nothing. He had looked frankly and admiringly Into the eyes of other pretty women; he had even gazed Into her own before, but never with this feeling. A sudden sense that what he had seen there he had himself evoked, that it was an answer to some question he had scarcely yet formulated. and that they were both now linked by an understanding and consciousness that was irretrievable, came over him. He arose awkwardly and went to the wlndom-. She a nee also, but more lelsflrely and easily, moved one .of the books on the table, smoothed out her skirts, and changed her seat to a little sofa. It Is the woman who always comes out of these crucial moments unruffled. *T suppose you will be glad to see your friend, Mr. Demorest. when you go back.” she said, pleasantly. “For. of course, he will bo at Hymettus awaiting

you.”

He turned eagerly, as he always did at the name. But even then he felt that Demorest was no longer of such importance to him. He felt, too. that he was not yet quite sure of his voice, or even what to say. As he hesitated, she went on, half playfully: "It seems hard that

CARELESSNESS

you had to come all the way here on such a bootless errand. You havcu f even seen your wife yet.” The mention of hls wife rec<MM Jltra to himself, oddly enough, when Demorest'* name had failed. But very differently. Out of his whirling consciousness cum* the Instinctive feeling that he could not see her now. Ho turned, crossed the room, sat down on the sofa beside Mrs. Horncastle, and, without however, looking at her, said, with his eyes on the floor; “No; and I’ve been thinking that It’s hardly worth while to disturb her so early to-morrow as I should have to go. So I think It's a good deal better to let her have a good night's rest, remain hera quietly with you to-morrow until the stage leaves, and that both Of you come over together. My horse is still saddled, and I will be back at Hymettus before Demorest has gone to bed." (TO BE CONTINUED.) 1

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