Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 48, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 January 1889 — Page 1

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VOL. XXXIY-XO. -18. INDIANAPOLIS. WEDNESDAY. JANUARY 2. 1889. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR,

GU ILDEROY

BYAuthor of "Under Two Fid??," "Two Little Wooden Shoo' "Chandos," "Don GcsmaMo," Etc. Scot Erst published. All rights resrrd. CHAPTER XXXII. The nest Jay Aubrey left Ladygrood, and Guilderov vrenfc To Paris for a week ; at the end of the week their first circle of guests would arrive; at the end of the second week there were to come to them fcotne royal personales, and with them the iHicliePS Soria. Iladys had live days of quiet and rural to'itude tre her. Slid spent tlieiu almost entirely with her father. When the great house was filled, th? life in it T.as more tedious to her even than Tendon ; her time still less her own, her patience and courtesy still lnor severely taxed. Whatever soe-it ty iiiight bu to others, to her it seemed n treadmill never rfotinjr, a camisole tl force neve r laid s-ide, a formula incessantly upon the lip?. ;i conventional imposture never abandoned for a moment ihe was a child will at heart, and al! its ceremonies and ftiqueite and precedence were to her a? the weight ot her jewels and the length of her train has been to her at her lirst day at court. Oh, for one cri du comjt in the rnidst of all those polished murmurs uf compliment And calumny, and dissimulaTion, and veiled indecencies, and masked innuendo! so ehe thought a hundred times a week in it. Older women, women either colder in their affections or warmer in their passions, could find interest and exciteiient in its intrigrues, and its conflicting and contrasting interests; they could move in it as in a labyrinth of which they had the silken clew ; they could play in ft like movers of pawns and knights at chess. But s-he could not linü that distraction and compensation. There was soniethi inher of her father's distaste for the hurry, the excitati A, the fakity, the intrigue, nnd the incidents, trivial and serious, "which make up the interest of modern so city; they had no power to attract and absorb her. In these few days preceding the arrival f her husband and her guests she was soothed and strengthened by the quiet country atmosphere, in that homeline5S and tranauility which had been about her from the cradte. Wheal she was with her father 6elf-s:icrifiYe and fortitu le seemed still possible. In thefeerihnes of the world she lost her hold on them. He tried to make her see that there was nothing new in what the muttered' from ; nothing more than was usual and inevitable. He tried to imbue her with that tolc ration and indulgence which it is the hardest of all trials to attain iii youth. He could add little that was new to what he bad -aid when sho had before consulted .' hira; but that little he strove to put before her with sympathy and pity, though its philosophic reasoning teemed very cold to her. To the imagination which pictures and the heart which craves, richer, fuller, more complete joys than human pa-ion and human possessions ran ever bestow, the assurance that such perfection is but a iream, and that the pas-ions can only be the flower of a day, apja-r.ra dreary creed which lavs the whole world barren. ".My dear child," said Vernon, "you have only found what rot women who know much about men do lind that tinman they love is seldom either J,'', x or Ilrr'or, SjJtu; or Mn!r,-' either heroic or idealic, but is gner tllv rather like a eick and fractious child who cries for what he cannot get and beats the hand which tries to soothe him.'' he smiled but sadly. "My dear. I only sneak thus of my own sex in their passions," he continued. "There are other things in life besides its passions, though I admit that there are none w hich color it sodeeply, or so infuse into it, irrevocably, bitterness or sweet ne-s. riut there are otlier things; it is, in these "tlier things that you should find your aiiies. Cmiideroy is a man whose whole life should not be squandered in falling in love and tailing out of love. He Ins po-d-tion, opportunity, talent; he should have s time gees on some other aim than breaking the hearts of women, whether your heart or those of others. It is with that side of his life that your alliance, your efforts, your interests should be. t'annot you see that?'" "I cannot see what does not exist," said Gladys coldly. "He has no other object in life than his own pleasure. He says it i- the only wie philosophy. I euppose it is, when you are rich enough to carry it out." "It is the Epicurean; but what joy will there be in that without youth ? Ho forests he makes no provision for ag" She was silent; ago to her seemed so far off that it V2s without shape or meaning in her eyes; her whole soul wa3 concentrated in her present. Her father looked at her. There were regret, anxiety, disquietude in the regard. ""lad3"s," be said abruptly, "he told me c-nce that he thought you were cold. You are not so. Par from it. How have you given such an ideaf you to a man who is your husband?" She pulled some little brandies of the t-weetbrier hedge to her nervously. She did not "rply. "How "; repeated her father. You must Lave failed to respond to him in some way? You must have disappointed him at tome time You must have shut your heart away from his gaz? Will yoi cot anwer me ?" Her hea l wm turned from him and her voir-.c trembled as she replied: "I so soon saw that he cared so little." Everything seemed to her to be told iu that. "A r you sur.- that was not your fancy ?" "Quite sure." "J.ven when you spoke to me that first day afi ;r yr. '.r return four years ago ? You remember?" " Ye.s; f'tn thn." M.e sighed impetuously. "Kve'i then," shu repeated. "He had p.iid a great price for me and he regretted t!i'.' price just as he does again and again when be bids for a picture at Christie's, or th-i hotel Drouot, and it falls to him. The picture has never been painted which could satisfy him when he gets it home!" Vernon echoed her sigh. Jt seemed to him hopeless to change a state of feeling built on caprice and on indiiference; on a temperament as shifting as the sands, and h discontent grown out of self-indulgence. He looked at hi daughter with irrepressible eadnesH. It teemed audi a little while ass that

she bad run along by that- sweetbrier hedge in the sunshine, no taller than itself, a happy, careless, fair-haired child, lresh as a ''rose washed in a shower." 4Qd f he was here a creat ladv. an unhanDV wo-

j man; a jealous and almost deserted wife! He had forexpn it all himself, but hin ! past prescience of it made its sorrow nono the lighter. Jladys sighed wearily. Like all persons of "poetic and ardent mind her ideals in youth had been high and romantic; the man who had knelt at her feet in the library of Ladysrood with the Hone on her knee and the sunlight through the painted panes falling on his handsome head, had seemed to her lover, knight, and hero .ill iu one. And what bad she found him? Only a master, negligent yet exacting; indiiferent yet arbitrary; restless, hard to please, and quite impossible to content; who took his infinite social and personal charms elsewhere; who spent his time ami his passions with others, and who considered that he had fulfilled aU the obligations of his position to her when he had given her iis houses to direct and his family jewels to wear. "Yes, my dear," John Vernon said in his own thoughts, silently answering her own silence; "you make the common mistake of all women. You think that the gift of yourself gives you claim to the man's eternal aflect ions. It does not. It cannot. I know this seems harsh to you, and cruel. l?ut it is the law of sex. Here and there are a ws d' f, who suffice wholly and solelv, physically and mentally, to each other; but they have not met early in life, nd they have not married each other. Where marrige is hostile to love, is that it substitutes material gifts of worldly goo-Is. worldly advantage, worldly positions, gifts of houses and money and land, f-r the sweet, spontaneous gifts of the passions and the a flections. In savage races the man can treat his wife how he will, because he has given so many ponies or cattle, or buffalo skins for her. In civilized life he feels, in the same way, that he has paid for her in material matter, and so is absolved from other and more spiritual payment. There is something to be said for the man's views, only where is the woman who will ever perceive or admit it ?" Uut all this ho could not say to her. "If you have living children you will be happier." he said aloud, as the only suggested conolation of what he could think. Her face flushed, and she rose and pulled the shoots of the s'w eet brier in- j petuouslyoti their stalks. "1 shall never have children," she said in a low and sullen voice. "Do you sujpose that I would live with him without Iiis love only because he wishes for legitimate offspring? Cannot you unierstand? I have made him know that ever since ever since I first felt that he did not care for me." "And he accepts the position? ' "When I tell von that he does not carer The color burned in her cheeks; a dark cloud of anger hung over the fairness of her face. "One sees it iu the world, I know," she continued; "wor.enwho goon bearing children year after year to men whom they know care nothing for them, but they must be without" spirit or senses, or dignity or delicacy; they mu.-t be the wretched beasts of burden that your (iriseldi w 2!' . Her father looked at her with infinite pain. "It is worse than I thought," he said brielly. "I do nut know how far he any In? to" I dame he has never p-.uied his heiirt to me, and I cannot juot-.e -hnt I do no: think that vou eher-sh 't'K! - j i . i L whih can bring happiness ( itV r t you: fr turn. And I do iK-t 'h:nk that yon have any right to refuo thnt natural barden of maternity, which, however little you knew of life then, yu i still knew would be your portion if you married him." "The moment that h has ceased tolovo me, L i set me free from all su-h obligatio;-.-," she said passionately. "My little children lie in their graves. When I shall lie with them he can have others by some other woman, who will be more grateful for his gifts and his position than I am." "You pain tne, ( ilaiys," said Vernon, with a sigh. "I cannot help it," she replied, selfish with that concentration of self which the sufferings of the heart and passions always entail. "When I am with you," she said with the tears risiug to her eyes, "I am in much what I used to be. I feel your influence. I believe as you believe in the power of selt'-saeriiice and patience, l'ut I leave all the good you do me within this little gate. I cannot carry it out into the world. There I am only foolish, jealous, embittered, made cold cr made w icked, one hour this, one hour that. Iu the world I sec that women who are forsaken find consolation? Why should I not find it if I can? One of your classic writers says somewhere that a woman has always on power of vengeance. Sometimes I feel that I will try and reach his pride with that, since I can touch in no better way his heart" Vernon was silent for some moments; he understood all the conflicting impulses at war within her, and he was at once too merciful and too wise to meet them with the emptv conventional arguments of w hat is called in the world morality. He believed, like Aubrey, that it is only by the alfections that women can or should be ever led. "Other women have done that," he said, at last, and have repented it all their lives long. 'UraTiora q-idam sunt remcdia rriculit. We cannot wound what we love without wounding ourselves more profoundly still ; and to dishonor ourselves because we feel ourselves humiliated seems to me the act of madness; it would be as wise tocutour throats because the cold makes our hands ache on .1 w inter's day. P.y what you tell me, you have set free your husband by your own choice; you cannot complain if he con-trues his librtv with a man's liberal and loose rea ling of the word. You have been too quick to consider yourself neglected, and too quick to repudiate your own obligations. You have beauty, you have youth, and you have the honor of the man von love, or have loved, in your hands. If, with all this, you can obtain no influence on him, and cannot rise to a higher level than that of your own personal affronts and suspicions, you are not what I thought you; and all the care and culture I have given to you, and all the eUorta I have inado to render you in somo little degree w iser and kinder than other women, have been lost. To feel that it is so will be the crowning disappointment of my life, which has been neither so tranquil nor so contented as others think it. For I am mortal, and I have found, liko all mortals, that 'life is a series of losses.' Io not let me lose you, at least." She was touched to the quick if she wa not convinced. The tears fell upon her father's hand as she kisaed it. Hut she promised nothing. "Do not let us talk any more of this," said Vernon. "Feeling loses its force and its delicacy if we put it under tho micro

scope too often whether you bo living or dead. I believe- you will always live your own life in such wise as I ehould most "wish. In dishonoring vourself you would dishonor "me; you. will remember that. Let us go down to the shore. Nothing soothes one like the sound of the sea. Who has been mistaken enough to say that nature was not loved in classic eya? Why, all Greek and la.tin verse is full of it, from the roar of the wavusin Homer to the chaunt of the- grasshopper in Meleager, and the birds singing, in the rosemary of Tibullus I" '

CHAPTER XXXIII.. . . Vernon was seated a few days later in the wicker chair- oi his pirilen, with a volume of Terence on his fetree, and the dog at his feet, when the old 'woman in cotton kirtle and coal-scuttle bonnet who served as letter-car r.ier for somo. twelve miles round, brought him a packet of publishers' letters, and newspapers, and pamphlets, and one otUer letter in a hand unknown to him, and inclosed in the thick blu paper which usually bespeaks a legal correspon lencew- When he read it found himself th master of a modest little fortune. Averydistant relation i the colonies, whom he-had had no comuaradentipn from for twenty years, and of w.bom he had scareely,ever known, anythiug, had died childless, and had left him the proceeds of a Ions life of shaep-farm-!'PS "because he is the" miby honest man I 'hve ever heard of,' said thi Xew Zealand inpgenes in nis testament r The letter of these' lawyers, who were total strangers to him, moved "him to a mingled emotion. He could not but be thankful that his future years, brief ai thy might be, would te freed from the atrce cane of reliance on precarious literary labors; but his heart ached that this good "news had not come earlier. A reluctant consent had been wrung trom him to Gladys' "aarriage, principally because he knew that the state of his health might any day leave her without a protector, and that he had not means to bequeath to her anv ease or elegance of life. This knowledge had made him conscious that he bad no right to stand between his daughter and the brilliant and secure position offered to her, from mere romantic apprehensions which the future might realize. But if this little fortune had come to him before the visit of Guilderov, he would not have hesitated to place the test of long probation betwixt him and his desires. Alas! when fortune stretches out full hands, it is so often too late for her gifts to be of much use. Still he was thankful, as he sat in the pale sunshine anydst the honeysuckle and swetbrier of his cottage port h. He loved learning with all a scholar's tender and delicate devotion, and it had often seemed to him almost a prostitution of it to turn his command of its treasures into a means of making money. A sentimentality the world would have called it, as it always calls every better emotion in us. As be sat thus he heard the rapid trot of horses' feet coming up the shady lane, gunk low between high flowering hedges and banks which were in spring purple with violets. "Some one from I-adytrood," he thought. Ladysrood had become full of guests,and Vernon never consented to go there when there was a house party; he pleaded utter d:si:-;e of society, aiui iaste for it; and, indeed, few of the associates of Guilderov had much in common with him. And he had an unchangeable resolution never to cue any human being tho ri: lit to f-ay that he had gratified his own atebitit. ..and secured his own interests, by Irs d vajh-er's alliance. " Yhv i lio ll 1 you persist in remaining :d o. from us?" Guilderov had said to 'lira that same morning: and Vernon replied : "Why should I renew acquaintance with the great world when it and I have been strangers so long? My lifo rau-t seem to you like that of a snail or a mollusc, fastened under a cabbage-loaf or a ribbon weed. But it is a contented one. Can you say as much for yours?" Guilderov was at a loss w hat to answer. "You are the only contented person I have ever met," he said evasively. "I am content because I have done with expectation," replied Vernon. "What is discontent? Only desires which are inclinable of fulfillment. I quite understand that the whole tenor of modern life inevitably pro-luces it; that is why Hive chiefly w ith the dead." "A waste of your groat intelligence, and a deprivation to those who appreciate your society," said Guilderov. "My dear Evelyn," said Vernon, "I am not väin enough "to believe in your flattery. Whatever my intelligence may be worth I can put on paper, and if any really care for ray society they can come to Christslea as you come." Guilderov colored a little. He was sensible he came but seldom there. And yet he had great affection and admiration for John Vernon. "It is a very great pity that he remains such a recluse," he said once to Aubrey, who replied: "You think my life distressingly wasted on the country. "You think Vernon's distressingly wasted on solitude. He and I think yours distressingly wasted on pleasure. Which of the three of us is most right?" "Probably we are all three extremely unw ise to judge of, and for others." "That may very well be. Possibly, too, all life is "more or less wasted, because men, with all their studies, have never studied the secret of truly enjoying it. Possibly, too. Vernon in his hermitage is nearer doins? so than either you or I." Cut though he had never gone thither, those of the guests of Ladysrood who had learning enough to appreciate it often sought his society, and the little cottage under the apple orchards had become a sort of intellectual Delphos to thoe men of genius and learning who were numbered amongst Guilderoy's friends. It was no one of these now, but Hilda f.-anbury, who lifted the latch of the little w ooden gate and came under tho wild roso iKjughs to him. Having begun by hating him as an adventurer ami an eccentric solitary, she had endod in admiring and esteeming him. "Tho only really sensible man I ever met," she otten averred. Vernon, on his part, liked her; he appreciated her strong attachments and her strong common sense which yet so denied her those true charms sympathy and the power of silence. She had now driven over alone, ostensibly to consult him alout one of her sons, but in reality for another purpose. When she had spoken of hew son, of politics, and of tho weather, she hesitated a moment, and then said: "Mr. Vernon, you and I have one common object and desire, the happiness of my brother and your daughter." "Certainly, my dear lady," replied Vernon ; "but if you mean that either you or I can do anything except wishing for it, you are greatly mistaken. I have told you so very often." "A word in season surely " "Ah, no! It is just those words which are fciwaya cuoit aggravating I I am euro

3'ou have some bad news for me. Spare me, and tell it quickly." "I ought not to tell you at all. But you have heard of the Ductless Soria?" "Never." She gave himthe outlines of the Duchess Soria's past, so far as it had been connected witli. her brother; and Vernon heard with impatience. "It. waa broken off before his marriage, no doubt," he said. "Why rake amongst dead leaves ?" "Pecause leaves grow again." ' "You mean " "That Evelyn is more in loveith this womaa than he ever was before,Aud that 6he comes to Ladysrood to-ajorrow. Now what I wish to know is, shall you or 1 tell your daughter?" Vernon heard with infinite pain. "I knew how it would be," be murmured. "But I confess it is sooner than I even thought. My child is worth more than that. Perhaps von mistake!" . VI never mistake' she replied, with hauteur; "and if I sacrifice the reputation of uny brother to you, it is out of sincere regard for vdur daughter." '-"What do you want mo to do?" "Whatever you deem best. She must certainly not be left to remain in ignorance, to receive Beatrice Soria " Vernon sighed. "Dear madam, it is only ignorance unless most wondrous and perfect patience which enables any woman to endure her married life at all." "You mean, then, yon would leave her

-in ignorance?" "Yes. What good could Itnowledge of it be as von think?" "Good heavens'. Surely there is such a thing as self-respect?" , "Yes; my child will always have selfrespect, for 6he will never I am convinced, do anything to Joe. the respect of others. Self-respect does no? consist in making vblent scenes, or ill-judged reproaches, tr discoveries which are forever fatal to peace." "You take the insult to your daughter strangely quietly." "I have known the world iu my time, my dear madam, and I read your brother's character before he had been ten minutes in my study; it is not a character from which any woman can expect constancy. I thought, however, that lie was was a gentleman; if he is as insincere and as unscrupulous as you describe he is not one." "Not a gentleman '." Lady Snnbury flushed crimson, and rose in bitter anger. "Not if what you tell me is true." 'T did not tell you that he might be abused, but argued with: and that your daughter might be warned and counseled." John Vernon sighed wearily. "Dear Lady Sunbury, you and I both spent all our int3lligence in w arnings and in counsels before this marriage took place. Action, new that it has taken place, would be worse than useless." "Mv intentions are misunderstood," said his old visitor coldly. "All my inclinations would, of course, lie tow ard screening and excusing my brother. But I thank God that I have never allowed mere inclination to be the guide of my conduct. I believe in duty, though I know the world of our day ridicules and despises me, and my sens cf duty ma Is me feel that Leonid not ,tl ..w my sister-in-law ignorartly to receive her most formidable rival." "I thank you for your feeling for Gladys," said Vernon, w it Ii emotion, "but neither you nor I should do any good in lilting the band off hereve?: it w ill fall soon enough of itself. Besides pardon me you cannot tell that Guilderoy's feelings have revived for this lady, lie cannot have told you, I presume''" "He has not told me, certainly. DutT have always takf-n means to be aware of my brother's actions, and I know that all relations are renewed between him an 1 th Durbers Soria." Vernon covered his eyes from the sun with one band. The calm sweet light and the gay sung of tho mavises iu the adjacent orchard hurt hira. "It is very sad, if true," he said at lad. "But interference were worse than useless. It would only confirm vour brother in his infidelity, and inspire in my daughter a resentment which she could never forget. Dear madam, believe me, marriage is a difficult thing. But, as law stands, we cannot undo one once contracted without publicity, comment, interrogation, every indignity which it is most frightful for cither a proud or a delicate nature to provoke. What then remains? Only to leavo such peace as there is in it undisturled as long as we can. I knowthat j-ou believe in the advantages of interference. I do not. When we are sure to do any possible good by it, it is a dangerous meddling with fates not our own. When we cannot even be sure of so much as that, we certainly cannot dare to attempt anything. Your brother's wish for my daughter's hand was, as you know, most unwelcome to me, because I knew that he had not the stability, nor she the. experience, to make happiness between them possible; but since, unhappily, she i. his wife, she shall not, I promise, whilst I live, allow either passion or injury to fling his name to the bow ling calumnies amf cruelties of the world ; not whilst I live." There was a great eadntss in the three last words, and he sighed as lie said them. "When I am gone, bo kind to her," he added. "Where are you going?" "Where we must all go." Hilda Sunbury looked at him in surprise and wonder. "Why should you speak so'."' You are as likely to live as she or I. You are in the full vigorand flower of your intellect." John Vernon smiled. "Ol'my intellect, perhaps; but unhappily, living is a physical question, and when the body succumbs the light of the mi -id goes out too. I have always thought it ihe greatest argument for the immortality of the soul; for it is ready ridiculous to upposo that the ben. lock could really destroy such a mind as Socrates, or that the genius which created Arid and Calibnn can have been killed forever because Warwickshire leeches in the Elizabethan days were fools. Plato, indeed " Luly Sunbury ruse in evident irritation. "Socrates and Plato! Good heavens, Mr. Vernon, how can you possibly think of such people. when I have just told you, at the greatest pain to myself, and perhaps even disloyalty- to my brother, of what wrong is being done to your only child." "My dear madam," said Vernon wearily, "if my child ultimately succeeds in keeping the honor of your brother's namo intact, and bearing her own pain and dishonor in silence, she will owe it to that which I have told her-in childhood of those two dear cead friends of mine. Perhaps you have never read the Apology or Crito? Horace has said that a new "amphora keeps long the odor of the first wine poured in it; and as it is with tho earthen vase, so it is with the human mind in youth." Lady Sunbury loft thegardenof Christslea with offense. J5he reflected that it was always wholly

useless to look for practical wisdom from the students of books. She had been bom with an uneovern

ble love of interference -with the aifairs of others. She believed so conscientiously in the excellence of her intentions, that she was sincerely ignorant of the curiosity, love of authority, and many another personal motive, which were continually moving her to interfere, to govern the destinies and correct the errors of others. Her detestation of the Duehe?3 Soria had been to the full as potent in her present action as her anger with Guilderov and her indignation for the wrongs of Ids wife. Like' many another woman of energy and exclusive attachments, tihe could not resist the feeling that she had been appointed. by Providence to watch over and save from themselves all those who belonged to her; and though this view of her mission had never yet had any other result than to alienate and weary "those whom she desired to serve, and frequently to hasten their descent'down that patli which she sought to prevent them from ever following, yet she never could so alter her nature as to refrain from making the attempt. Her husband hated, her sons feared, and her brother often avoided her in consequence, but no power on earth would ever, have persuaded her that her failure to influence them arose from her own fault. Alas! most people carry about with, them a lanthora like Diogenes, but they are fqrever flashing its rays into the faecs and the souls of others"; they do not remember to turn its light inward". Lady Sunbury indeed knew no ono better that a woman can no more restrain a man from inconstancy than she can restrain the breakers of the sea from rolling up on the shore. She knew, too, by her own experience, that rebuke, reproach, expostulation, publicity, - only increase the evils against which they passionately protest. Hat she did not choose to remember anything of whathe knew, fhe was 011I3- ready to blame her brother's wife for too passive acquiescence, as she would have blamed her had she had re course to any violent indignation. She ' could not pardon her for having gained no influence over Guilderov, even as she would never have forgiven her had she succeeded in gaining any. She knew that her sister-in-law was unhappy, and that such tin happiness was at her age perilous in every kind of way; but yet she was rather impatient of her and critical of her than compassionate. If she were not a simpleton she w as wicked quite wicked not to take such measures as would save her husband from unfaithfulness and herself from sorrow. And she, who had forgotten the saying that "fools rush iu w here angels fear to tread," or e se never imagined that by any possibility she could be classed with fools, drove rapidly home to Lad-srood, where a large party was staying as well as herself. "It will be very difficult to see her alone," she thought, "but I will try.' As it chanced, Guilderoy was out riding with several of his friends; the remainder of the guests were sitting, sauntering or playing afternoon games in the west gardens. There waa a large table spread under one of the great chestnuts, where servants were serving tea, ices, fruits, wines, strawberries and cream everything that was wished for or imagined. Gladys was performing the part of mistress of a great house which had now become second nature to her, but which never ceased to oppress and fatigue her with its tedium. Society, like all ether pursuits of life, requires to have an object iu it to be interesting. She had no object ; it did not seem to her that anything oi" interest could Tiossilily arie in her life. She had pain in it, and a jealousy for which she contemned her--If, but these had both become so latriiiiar by habit that siie had ceased to expect ever to be free from them. Her want of intcrert in whr-.t went on around her gae her a listless air, which all her really sincere ciforts to be kind and courteous could not repair. People felt that they were indifferent to her, that they bored her, that she would have preferred tlu ir absence to their presence, and there were many whose vanity made them bitterly resent this. he was moving now from one group to another, doing her best to be amused by what so greatly amused every one else, and failing entirely to do so. She wore a Gainsborough hat, with long feathers drooping to her shoulder; she had on a white frock of very soft embroidered gauze tissue, and a great sash of bmad pale-blue ribbon was fastened at the side. "She is really a lovely creature," thought her sister-in-law. "How wild he would be about her were she only some se s wi:e . Lady Sunbury joined the groups under the chestnuts and hided her time. It was still early. There was a great deal of laughter and flirtation and general diversion, the air w as balmy, and the gardens delightful. Some one asked if they might danee, the lawn was so smooth. The lady of Ladysrood assented; the musicians, who were always in the house, were sent for and stationed where they were not seen, behind thickets of rho dodendron; the people began to dance. Gladys and Lady Sunbury wefe left almost alone. "How strange that they can care for that!" said the former, with dreamy contempt, as she watched the valsers moving round. "How I wish you cared for it, my dear!" said Lady Sunbury. "How I wish you cared for anything!" "Do you?" Gladys looked suddenly at her with a strange expression in her eyes. . "Certainly I do," said her sister-in-law. You would be so much happier if you were were interested in what goes on around you." "I am" very often interested; I am not cften pleaded." "What does she nle.m?" thought Lady Sunbury. "I wanted to say something to you for a moment in private. Could we go a little rpart, do you think? They are all dancing." "Oh, yes; they will not miss me." She moved away from the gaycty of tho scene into a walk known as the King's Alley, because Charles Stuart had paced up ami down it in the dark days between Oxford and Whitehall. It was a green walk inclosed on either side with tall walls of clipped yew, above which Ftretched and met the boughs of massive beeches. It was sequestered and out of earshot, though the music of the waltz camo to them on the air as they paced down it. "You care for your father?" said Lady Sunburv. "Ah!r It was an ejaculation rather than a word, but the whole love of a lifetime was in it. "It is no ill of him you want to say, is it?" "Oh no," said her ßister-in-law. "I w ent to see him this afternoon. I wanted him to tell you something which must be told you. But ho refused." "Be sure that it should not betold at all, then." said Gladys coldly. "Mr. Vernon is not infallible," replied Hilda Sunbury, growing angered. "I conbi der that it should be told, and I am the j

best judge cf what is or is net for the honor of my tam'ily. I do not wish you to receive the Duchess Soria." Gladys stood stiil and looked at ber. f "Why?" she asked. "Because betause my brotbet was her friend more than her "friend before his. marriage." "My dear Lady Sunbury," said her brother's w ife very calmly, "It I am to do-, dine to know all the women your bro'her honored in that manner, I shall have to make great incisions in my visiting list." "Good heavens! Can von make a je?t of it ?" "Xo; God knows that is farthest from my thoughts. But the world would make a jest of him if I acted on your advice." "Do you mean to say that you were aware of what his relations were with Beatrice Soria? and what they have again become?" Gladys grew very pale. . "I knew there, was something someoneit does not matter who it is not the first time." Her voice was faint with pain, but her face was calm. "Are you sure that it is Mine. Soria?" she asked, after a moment's paus,'. "Perfectly sure. You cannot let her come here; you must make Evelyn understand that. 1 speak as I do for your honor and hi?." "Or for our estrangement," thought Gladys bitterly. "My father" said I was not to be told this?" she inquired. "Yes. He said it could do no g'oL He did not aopreciate mv motives my sense of duty." "Neither do I," said Gladys ;d.rr.rtl v; and she began to walk on under the beec hen bhadows. "I am sorry that you do not,'" said Lady Sunbury sternly. "You are not hin? to me, and my "brother is much. But I could not see a wrong done to you under vour own roof while I could "save you from it by a-word of warniug. It was useless to speak to Guilderoy: he is seifwdiled, careless, obdurate, w here his faniäes are involved. I deemed it be.-t to put you on your guard. If you tell him you refuse tö receive the Duchess Soria he will be' compelled to ae 1 uiesce, and he will not ask your reasons, aud he will he tared from the world's condemnation." Gladys said nothing in answer. She continued to pace the alley with agitated, quickened steps. "Have vou a personal dislike to Mine. Soria?" she asked abruptly. "That is a very unworthy insinuation," replied her sister-in-law with hauteur. "This much I will say of her she is the only woman on earth who eer really influenced my brother. You must bo aware that you yourself have no more influence ovyr him than if you were a statue. Of course I do not know whether that is his fault or yours." Each one of the words went to the heart of the hearer as if it had been a stab with a knife. Had it been her fault? Her father had also seemed to think so. Her sister-in-law evidently thought s.o. What did women do to retain the passion and elicit the confidence of men? She could not tell. Who could put in her possession of the secret of that marvelous talisman? She turned to her companion with composure, though her lips w ere verv pale. "I have no doubt you mean wel, though you might find it haid work to persuade Lord Guilderoy that you do sr. Muic. Soria does not cörue for three" days. In the morning I will go to C hri-.tsiui and consult my father." "Your father will certainly counsel you to keep the role of Griseldis," said Lady Sunbury with ill-repressed rag'; and violence. Gladys face flushed painfully. "If I do keep it." she said with bitterness, "it is certainly the members of vour house w ho should be grateful t i me,'' Then she walked with quick, firm step awav from her sister-in-law, out of the beech alley, and toward the dancers in the sunlight on the lawn. f'out'mvid p'it '!:.) A SON'S TERRIBLE CRIME.

He ttrmatlr Murilr His Agfl Moltw-r nnt Twelve-ar.Hl SiMer Mirscoc.EE, I. T., Dec. 2". A terrible d-Mible murder occurred Sunday night on Logrs farm, five miles west of here. A widow named Sarah Johnson and her family of four children occupied the farm. The eMest cf the children was a desperate boy named Charley. T't.e others were a girl of twelve, a boy of ten and a b.il-y of three years. The te-n-yar-r.hl boy nas visiting and when he returned home je-ifnlny found his twelve-year-old sUfer lyinir h ad on the etej. Terrified at thes'glit, lie hastened to a neichhor's house and pave ihe ne. A crowd was quickly asseniold, and h.otening to the widow's a heart-rending fight met their eae. Not more than twenty steps from the door lay the widowed mother, fur heail leai-n iuto a jelly. Fly her side lay a huge oak club covered with blood with which the terrii!e crime had been committed. Near the dooretep, on the opposite side of the c.ioin, wns the mangled remains of the twelve-yearn I I daughter. The thrt-e-year-old baby was Mill in the hoas alive. The eldest aon lias not been seen since the night of the crime, and lie is known to have had frequent quarrels with his mether. It is supposed that he was the pfrpetrator uf the horrihle crime or at least au ao'-.iiupliee. A TOWN IN FLAMES. Marbtehead, Mas., Ilurning lj T!i Tenuis litc-tricken. MAF.ELEHEAP, Mass., Iec. 2e. Marhhhe.i l is on fire, for the second time iu her history. The entire business portion is ia ruins, it is the largest fire that ever visited this pin t, and the people are panic-ctrieken. . 1 Iiis oÜM.atei is ent with great dirSeulty . uvr a hastily iniErovi.sed wire, and oiumunieatiou is i;i!.'!e to e interrupted at any moment. The fire started about 10 p. ui., ia the basement of D. B. Powers' furniture More ei I'leasant-st. and is sail to have been oiaisc by the evnlosion of a can of benzine. At midnight H is estimated that seven acres hare beeu burned over and that the entire lofs will be at least MAUKXJ. Nearly the same territory was barred over about twelve years atro. The tire Marled in nearly the same place. Many of o-inht's victim were also sulierers by the former tire. The shoe business, which has been quiet for several months past, wsis jut frtarting up an i many operatives will note be thrown out of work the entire winter. The fire is sail burning. It is impossible to eet definite losses owinir to the great excitement prevailing among all classes. Convenient to IlaTe. on linnet. N. Y. s.m.l Pakota Lady (about to rive a crand ball "Well, than! goodness, John, my list ot" iuvitaHons is eoiiiieieu at iasu Dakota Husband "Have you included youuz Jawbones? He's a likely fellow, and we ought to pay him some attention, bein? a new-comer.'' Dakota Lady "Why, no, he has escaped me entirely. I'm glad you mentioned him, John; he seems to be a desirable pnrti in every way, and, besides, we shall probably need a surgeon before morning." An Innuendo. ITime.J Selinda Anthns is a charmintr young lady, but when she gets telling about articles of personal adornment she slips slightly over the pal-, ings that separate strict truth from easy fiction. A friend asked her the other day, what price she paid for the very pretty hat she wore, and she replied, "seventy-five dollars," and then got very much provoked because the horrid ÜÜD2 olserTcd "Did that üiclud the frame?"

THE QUESTION 0FT1IE HOUR

- HOWTOSIOPBRIBERYAT ELECTI0N3 Public Opinion as Expressed In Letter The Sentinel" and by IlereentatiT4 Indiana Newspapers A tirent Variety ot Suggestions. To Tin: EriTor. .S'V; In the discussion ia The Sentinel in reference to a new electioa law there is one point we have not seen mentioned. It is this: .Shall there he any handwriting on the ticket, or shall all scratching be done by means of printed pasters? I decidedly favor the pa-ters. The election board would re-onize the penmanship of a lar'e part of the voters, and i peculiar nourish of a nnme er two would en able the Üoater's "goods' to t-e Astly identified. Loesl candidates often write their names on pasters iu sueh a way as to find out through the board if that ti ket was voted, and the writer louud out how two douht;ul in-rson voted on Nov. () by tne ink showing ditiuetl through the ticket. Ot course under the new l.iw no one but the board will see the . tickets voted, yet swear them to secrecy a you wilL lei a nod or lok troui iliciii alter ward would I betrny wnat tii.-y x-uld not help hnd.ng out. 'i liest objections would appiy with almost ( cjiiid t'oivt to the plan 'o; priming ad the names ot the c;iti ii'iats on one ticket ana ni.-irkititr those' voted lor. besides ty this, method, tritii t fie mrhiplieity ot candidates presented to the people nov.-.i-ias. tuily onethirl Hi voters would need assistance, ia fixiii j their ticket, an i oi th -T. republican of tbi township, tliere is le.t one i tie leuiocrsta would trust with this business, aad he is taik. inz of moving away. We should h:;e to see the following principles embodied into law: 1. Voting inai'.e compulsory. 2. Mrict rei?it ration required. ;i. The crowd kept back fifty feet from tha polis and a screen in troot of theru, as proposed by "V. Y." of Indianapolis. 4. Ail the tickets exactly similar exeerd. names, being either printed or serutinized br leiral o&c.ais: a small screen on the back of the table, ut just sufficient size to let the bor4 see tht oiiiy one ticket is taken by each voter aui none orhtrs mis placed, but act to see whit kind of a ticket is taken. 5. TSe candidates named on each ticket to be nuTiiHered the posters to be aumbered accordin2ly; this for illiterates. 6. Nothing but printed newspapers to bt used, and in presidential elections, no electof. to be scratched. 7. Lach tieket to be inclosed by a rubhef or envelope. ?. Any peciaily marked tieket to be thrown, out, and anyone indicating bow he vores to ba dislranchiscd for that election. 9. livery person convicted of vote-buying to be fine J the person bought to receive half the iiionev."' Monrovia, Ind., Dec. 20. .f. W. R. ANOTHER PLAN. A Strict Kegltry Law and m Deary Pen alty For Bribery. To the Editor Sir: As I have been rre-l-mg with a great deal of interest in your paper a number of p'.acs to avoid traudulent votin;, and knowing what has taken place here, I thourht I would suchest a pian. In the first place, there should a registry law, and whn a man register he shoul l be furnished wkb an envelope with his nnn-ber stamped on it, and required to take that envelope to the polls, pat his ba'Iot in it a:id sjal ;t up ztti vote it. The person tiking the envelope, shill call th'j name and numb.-r of the p?rou voting. If his name and nuniU r cannot l e found on the re.; istorl'oOrc the vote is not to be counted. There snould not be more than voters in a precinct. The plan to allow no one witnin 100 feet of tiie p.j.ls is a good one, and it is also well h.it the voter should be cretned. Tha law disirari'-hNiiig tur buying votes, in my opinion, will amount to nothing. The penaitT bho-.iid ie il.i'O fine, one year in the penitentiary. If the party buying should te arle to p.iy tii" brie, 1," h;m!d remain in prisoa until it is ! allowing him at the raieot Jl.M a day mini 1.10 tine is pai.i. tl.e teller to go U-.it. M,.ke : t.rovidon lor the seller to be punish d h it !;ou!d be fi-utei that he hoi sworn lai-eiy. i i or o-r to eet rrven.'c on ti; poron be cause. r. ! e ih,vi and imprisoned foi buj in.r of vot-.. i ie. '' '.irjl.t be aiei a claUs9 to pay to the i: ioriiier s.',o on convi'-tioii. l ro;a tl.e t"ii,.u i-. 1 s-eei i-.u-cn ot a ectioii of a pa-e in th re:-'; b.ck. v-vi wid ee at a L'iatx e !t '.VI: t isv to ti i 1 .1 in j'i s uame. a it will on'y t.e neees.iry to ruu'ov cr ten numc: lo W,;,i'.i ,'a'i.r. . 11. A f.: (.'oV. 1. fror; '.-. 13. l;.vi j y.yir,;. M. A:i:o 1 1 l.-lerr. IV a;i:üi M .r.:. 1. I fjtii S iv. IT. M.rl.jM l.iOV. is. ,io'm Xiiri '. 1.'. Abrihara .K hns-"V 20 J. I r-'l ' ohuer. 21 .-fth Tli - n i . j:. W:;if;r: ! bi. bird. l P,.-!.cr Ii!-.T. -.4. .1 -.im H.. ,!.-;:. J-'. M irif l'.-.r--. 2 - N e'.oii Go: 'f n. 27. IVier Poj'-iiic 2S A J J! Ten 1'irkrr. SO- '). Ani Jii: s. Each polling place to be furnished w-.th tb names registered. There must be something done in regard tour election laws. If there is c. t, cur elections wid only be a matter oi dollars between the parties. I say down with monopoly and unneccessary taxes. T?y aii mea'is keep it befora the people that Dudley must tu!?er for his crime. iiEor.GK. CrawfordsTille, Dec. Is. A 3ECRET UALLOT Only One Method by Which Bribery Ca Ie Suppressed. To toe Editor vV; A secret ballot is tha surct and simplct system for cttin reenri of bribery, whe-h cms pra-Ti-d s extensively at the ia:e election by W. V. i-.e;'.ey's '"trut-te 1 men." The man who buys votes always keeps his eye ou the voter he bribes tii! hi ballot is deposited in the ballot-box. Col. pudley most emphatic upon this point in bis famous letter: "Divide tl.e fioirs ii.to blocks of tir and rut a tru.ted man uith the necessary fur 1 iu charge " these ii .e, and make h.ra responsrt!i: t tone Cet fl'.vav r.nd th.tt aU vote our ticket. ' It is t.lair.lvto be seen that one raan had all h'i could ! to puide five men to th poils sauly without snv gr-ttin away, and aiter the vo'ier depo-ked hi ticket he was pai l for bis trouble. In New York Ciyt it Ins for years been fh custom of the liv-rto re .pi ire the "iloater" to go to tho polls it!i the folded tickets w hich had bec-n ieii him r.nd then to bold itereet in t l e air hi that it can I e -. r. mud the vote ii deposited in the box. From all over the Ne r.poland s:ate the same piactiee is reported The briber iu Ir: liana H'-mt allo s the floatet to get out of sigh; until he gi ts the ballot do. tiosited, and occasionally he walks alUii: to thi box and sees that no one else jnves hira t ticket. The "bull fence" iu seme part of Indi ana is an evidence of this. It is a liierh chnts which h ad to the polis a:;d fro:u the poils The idea is to give men a chance to ch.ing their ballots on the wiy to the pods without tretiing eanoht at it, n- any one p.irty can bus . a lew ;f the other party's voters and st.irt them iuto the chuic, wlier tliey may change thcil ballot and hand it to the t lection otiieers withnut any one seeing the change. It the act ot vof'ng was performed in secret, no bribed votes could or would be trusted to carry out his targain. This has been shown in Kngland and, in tact, wherever the secret ballot has been put in force. It is the unanimous testimony of all Lnclish authorities that it is the secrecy pro vision rather than the riorus provisions of the law against bribery of nil kinds which has firncticaliy suppressed I ribery. iK-iore this l.n oibery was lar more prevalent there than it is in America. The prospects are eneouraiug for this .reform movement nil over the t'nite l States. Ict all democrats unite ia and soueleu monopoly, Quajisoi, bjodki..ia aud luikjitm. tut,