Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 51, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 January 1889 — Page 1

CllM

VOL. XXXIY--XO. 51. INDIANAPOLIS. WEDNESDAY. JANUARY 23. 1839. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

GU1LDER0Y

BYAuthor of "Under Two Flags,0 "Two Little Wooden Shoes," "Chandoa," "Don Gesualdo," Etc Vow first published- All rishts reserved. CHAPTER XI A few days later he was alone for a few instants with the Duchess Soria in one of the wooded paths of AJx. lie had spent his utmost ingenuity in the effort to obtain an unwitnessed interview with her, and had failed, utterly failed, as he had dne in England. The place was filled with her acquaintances, men who were as assiduous as he in devotion to her constantly surrounded her, and she never received him at her own apartments when she had not her friends about her. She desired to rive, and she succeeded in giving him, the sente that it were easier to uproot the rocks and hill around than to recover any cne of the privileges which he had of his act and will forfeited. Iiis assiduity in attendance rn her gave rise to many comments amongst the lingering idlers of the autumnal season, which he would have resented baJ he dreamed of thetn. But he did not even spare a thought to the observation ot which he was the subject, and his whole mind was centered in the endeavor to break through the barrier of friendly, but never intimate, association with her a barrier much more difficult to break through than any estrangement or coldness would have created. Those would have afforded permission for remonstrance or entreaty: the serene courtesy with which she inTariakly received him relegated him without ppeal to the position of a mere acquaintance. It was well-nigh impossible to approach a woman whom he had forsaken for being sufficiently forgiving and kind to condone such an o:!ense, and yet he would have been less discouraged by the most marked resentment than he was by this placid courtesy. It was not like her disposition as he remembered it; it was not in accordance with anything of her character as he had known it. Rumor attributed to her the intention of allying herself anew with a Russian of exalted rank, who had fodowed her to Ais, and who made no secret to the world of his homage; and Guiideroy suffered all the tortures of that impotent jealousy which he had once eo carelessly inflicted ou her, and had pitied so little in her. In the perplexity and perturbation of his various emotions, his thoughts seldom went to J-a Jysrood ; when they did so they ere mintried with as much of displeasurse aa of self-reproach. The waywardness of his pride made rim consider that his wife owed apology to him tnd must he the first to approach him. Meanwhile he was glad of that cessation of correspondence, which to her seemed so tragic and so terrible, but to him appeared but ot slight moment. His whole intelligence and volit. on were for the moment absorbed in the effort to compel some revelation of her real thoughts from the Duchess bona. He was well used to meet on terms of polite indifference women ia whose book of life he had written the tenderst p;ges; to greet with pleasant cordiality thoe who had parted from him in anguish Rud tears, or in fury and reproach. Hut her indifference became to him an hourly increasing torture. "Why will yon always avoid me?" he said to her at last in desperation, finding his opportunity alter many tlays. 'I am not aware that I avoid you," she answers 1. "I received you constantly in London and I would hive come to your house? of I.aciysrood had not your party been brokeu up bv death. Yoa are unreasonable, my frien.L" "For God's sake do not banisii mo to that name!" "Are yoa not my friend? Sure! yen arc no: my enemy? Though perhaps I bhoulJ be justified it I were yours." Guiideroy grew white with anger. Do not let us fence in this useless fashion. "You must know, you must h:ve seen, that I feel to you now wholly as of old. Nay, 1 feel more ten thousand times more!" "What sheer caprice!" "Not anyway eprice. It is the entire trnth You, who are so lully aware of your power overmen, should bethelajtto be astonished at h.' '"I a:n astonished at no human inconsistencies ; but I confess that, said by you to me, these thir-'"f-eni rather like iiisalt than homage." "Why?" liow can you ask roe why? You broke off your relations with me with scarcely more conterat' n than if yoa had been a rnir, Wntdier and I a sewinjr girl; and because rexreKassail you now, for the result? of your owu action, you expect me to be touched by your expression of them!" "I did not know my own heart." "Nay, I think you knew it well enough; you only obeyed all its most frivolous and faithless instincts. Or. rather, the heart said but very little: it was the passions which were in question." "Yoa are wholly unjust." She gave a gesture of impatience, "Men always consider us unjust to them hen we fail to defy their weaknesses." "You are unjust when you doubt that my fel:ng for you was, and is, the strongest of my life." "The strongest of your life, in which nothing ia strong, perhaps." she said with restrained acorn. "Vhy make to me these vain and useless protestations? You took your own way. It is not my fault if it has led you into paths not pleasant to you." "If you would only believe in my sincerity and my remorse!" "Why should I believe iu either? You do rot seem to me to know what sincerity or any Mher deep emotion means. You make love to ine and you marry another woman. You tire of that other woman and you imagine that you only love nie. It is impossible for any woman to attach much importance to your sentiments, or to believe that they can be of any steadfastness or duration." He was silent, embarrassed by the consciousness of the truth contained in her accusation, and impressed by his impotency to convince her that nevertheless she did him injustice. "You have had the only great love of my life," he said, with emotion. "In a moment of , ingratitude and blindness I was false to you. I imagined that I could live without you. I have repented my mistake ever since. I have been punished more than you can know or would believe." She interrupted him with impatience. 'Tray do cot put any blame on your wife; I admire her exceedingly. You place her in roost painful and difficult positions, and for so young a woman, she conducts herself in thera with great tact and composure. She is essentially high-bred, and I believe that she deserves a better fate than to eo unloved through life; posibly she will not go unloved!" "For Heaven's sake, do not speak of her!" "Why should I not? She ha behaved adrairaMy to me; and, aa far as I can judge, admirably to you also. I pity her very sincerely. You are incapable of making any woman happy, because you are incapable of being true to any." "I am true to yon! I have always been true to you, except in one mad, ungrateful moment, uii-' b bnve repented every year of my life ever since!" ti.? funled coldly. "The truth haa had many variations. Do v .ii suppose I have been ignorant of all your .i.strac'jons! Your wife may have, perhaps, Lut not I." . He colored as she spoke. 1 "They have been mere caprices, mere follies; r.oae have ever touched my heart. That I t'f tr before heaven." "How truly man's excuse! A man always considers it apoloary enough for inconsistency if he can declare that his infidelity has been a mere soulless drunkenness of the senses, for which b ought to blush! Other women may excise ia such s plea; I do not." "I thought you more lenient more omnident" "You thought EG 6 I'D Or credulooa. Yoa force! that yoa taught me lesson which tbo moit

credulous of women could not forget if she would. I made the immense, the irrevocable mistake of putting my heart into my relations with you. The one who does so is always the one who suffers in any relation of that sort. The mistake is rarely mutual." He felt a sense of powerlessness which was the acutest pain his life had ever known; how, in the face of his abandonment, could he ever persuade her to believe that he had loved, and did now love, her more than any other woman he had ever known? "We were so happy once!" he said, with a timidity almost boyish. It seemed to heran insult to recall to her memory joys which had been insufficient to sustain and retain his fidelity. A profound indignation flushed in the depthl of her luminous eyes. "Spare me fAat at least!" she said, with scorn and passion. She rose from her seat and moved onward. But he stopped her. "Tell me one thing," he said, with breathless asritation. "Is it true. what they say, that you will accept the hand of the grand duke?" "You have not the smallest figment of title to ask me such a question," she replied with some anger. "You have nothing to do with my life in any way. I do not, however, mind telling you that my experiences of marriage have not been such as to make me inclined to risk another. What could any man give to me that I have not? And I wholly agree with H-ilzar that marriage is la plus grande sottie a laquelle lahumanite est sacrifice." I accepted your marriage without reproach. I received and visited your w ife. I know nothing more that you could possibly expect from me. You have certainly lost all possible title to interrogate me on any subject. You have never seemed to understand that you passed on me the deepest affront that any man can pass ou any woman." "Hut if you forgave that?" "Who said that"! forgave? Not I. It is your own assumption. I neither chastised nor rebuked it, because to do either would have been beneath me. We leave theatrical scenes to women of the theaters. Hut between silence and pardon there are leagues to traverse; I h.ive never passed them. Probably I never shall." With that she left him and approached a group of acquaintances who were playing a round game of cards in the mid-dny suushine under one of the great pines. CHAPTER XLI. The es;ay on Friendship which Aubrey had read one vear before, chanced to catr-h his eye w here it fay on one ot the library tables at Balfrons, a few days after he had left Ladysrood; and the sight of it suggested to him a course which would have its drawback and its dangers, but which offered to hiiu some chance of being of service to a life which was coustantly crowing more dear to him, but which as it did so awakened all that self-denial which was the strongest quality in his nature. "If I love thee what is that to thee?" he mued. "Or to anyone?" It would be forever a secret locked in his own breast, for his self-control was a force which had never yet failed him. It was difficult for him to leave England at that moment, for he was in office, and the drudgery of high places seldom relaxes much even in the months of comparative liberty. Hut it was possible to get away tor a few days without awaking too much comment in that Arguseyed pub.ic which is forever seeing which does not exist, and the week after he had been at Ladysnod found him in Paris. There he learned that his cousin had ended his visits to the French chateaux and had gone to his own palace in Venice. Although as a rule he condemned all interference of the kind, and did not even now expect much from it, it still seemed to him that some one should endeavor to recall (iu'lderoy to his duties, and he saw no oue who could do so with any possibility of success unless it was himself. After lone and anxious reflection he decided to attempt it. When he reached Venice the November day was full of warm and limpid sunshine, sparkling on trreen water, shining marbles aud mudflj canvas. It was toward evenine, and Guiideroy was ?t home. He received his cousin with cordiality, which was more apparent than real, for he felt an uneasy consciousness that Aubrey had not come thither without somi especial reason, and some apprehension of its nature moved him. Aubrey stated, indeed, that he was only there for a few hours and was going to Vienna by way of UJinj. "I am leaving myself very soon," said Guiideroy. "I am going southward or I would accompany you." "Southward?" said Aubrey, and looked Lim full in the face. "Yes," repüed the other in the tone of a man who i? prepared to resent any comment on his statement, and resist any interrogation. "Not homeward?" asked Anbrey. " Not at present." Aubrey made no further remarks and they dined together, conversinz on the political situation in England, and other topics of the hour. After dinner they sat on the balcony which overhung the water above the Ki.ilto. The nicht whs cold but the skies were brilbant with innumerable stars, and a full moon, golden and glorious, shone down on Venice. "What is life ?" thought Aubrey. "To dream here under the stars in all this amorous stillness, or to have every hour of the day filled aj mine is with the pressure of pi.blio business and the conflict of men's tongues ?" But he did not say this: he said insteaJ: "Vou have, never asked me if I have seen your wife." "I am sure that you have, without asking," said (Juilderoy, almost insolently, for he was extremely angered at what he foresaw that he was about to hear. Aubrey passed over the ton and the words. "I was reading again your essay on Friendship, at Half'rons, the other day," he said instead. "It is very clever and entirely true. Hut one thing seemed to me very odd as I read it" "That I should have written it at all I should think," said Guiideroy. "No; but that all your admirable remarks lead to so little observance of your own rules in your own relationships. One cannot but see that w ith your wife " "What of my wife?" said Guiideroy very angrily. "She is perpetually making me scenes of upbraiding. I cannot live in them." "But you do not even write to her?" "I do not write because she offended me very gravely." "Did she offend you without warrant?" "I do not sjy that, but (-he began reproaches which would be interminable it one stayed to hear then:. She must have complained of me to you, or what would you know?" "lie thankful if she complain to no one but me, my dear Kvelyn. And complaint is not the correct word. I asked about you, of course, and she confessed that you had left her in anger and that you did not write to her and that she could only hear where you were through Hruuton or Wara." Guiideroy was silent. "Well," itaid Aubrey, with some hesitation, "do you consider that you render her happy?" "I do not admit that any person has the right to ask me such a question, be said with increasing anger. "I told you I had left my good manners outside the door, as one leaves one's slippers in Persia," said Aubrey. "As I have intruded so far without them, I will come a step farther. I am conscious of my rashness, but we were children together, and I will risk offending you. Do you consider that you have done what you could have done to keep the promises you made to John Vernon?"

Guiideroy moved Impatiently, "What did Vernon ever tell yi your' 'lie never told me anything. Pnt I am quite sure you must have promised him infinite consideration for hia daughter, or be would never have given her to you. He was Lot a man to care for rank and fortune." "And what would you imply?" asked Guiideroy with great hauteur. ''It is not my habit to imply," said Anbrey coldly. "I always say what I mean, and say it as clearly aa I can. I mean and 1 say now, that Vernon wonld never have given you his daughter if he had foreseen that yoa would be m inconstant to her as you are." "I do not consider," said Guiideroy, with great difficulty controlling his anger,"that even onr relationship warrants you in such intrusion on my private affairs." "Oh, I have said I have left good manners outside the door for a moment, said Aubrey indifferently. "There come times in life when one must choose between being discourteous or being cowardly, and in that dilemma I always ehoose the former as the lesser fault. I must teat ore to remind you, if yoa have fergottou it,

that to leave so young a woman as Gladys all alone is to expose her to a thousand perils." Guiideroy reddened slightly, partly with anger, partly with the consciousness that his consiu was right. "She is very cold, and she ia very proud," he said impatiently. "Such women are their own protectors." "A convenient theory, but not a true one. Nil Helen ieecat may be fairly said of any woman who is left alone." "Are you inclined to act the part of ParitY' said Guiideroy, with considerable scorn and insolence, which his cousin forced himself not to resent "I am as much like Pan's as you are like Jfowla'in," he said with admirable good temper, "Hut you must be aware, whether you choose to admit it or not. that you invite misfortune w hen you virtually abandon so young and so lovely a woman as your wife." "I do not abandon her in any sense of the word," said Guiideroy. "She has everything that my position, my respect, my fortune, can bestow on her. I shall never cease to testify to her every possible outward regard. I detest the very smallest exhibition to the world of disunion." "Hut yon see nothing injurious in the actual existence of it? My dear Guiideroy, can you seriously think that a mere trirl like Gladys, always at heart in love with you and not cold (though you imagine her so because you nre yourself cold to her), can be expected to be content with nothing more than the conventional pretense of union? Sun ly, w ith your vast experience of the sex, you must know them better than that." "I cannot help it! She is not sympathetic to me; it is a calamity, not a crime?" "No woman whom you had married would have been sympathetic to you for more than three months," thought Aubrey, but he did not say so aloud. . "Have vou come here to read me a homily?" continued Guiideroy with impatience aud hauteur. Aubrey looked at hira steadfastly. "That is beyond my pretensions. I am not your keeper. But I Irankly admit that 1 came here to tell you one thing. 1 was at Ladysrood for two hours. I found your wife in that state of irritation, sufterinz,. and otlense, fn which a woman may easily fall at a bound from perfect virtue to utter ruiu and self-alandonmer.t. She is young; she does not inherit her father's philosophy. She is profoundly unhappy, and I thought that it was onlv riht that you should be made aware of it, for yoj seem to think tlfat a woman is like one of your Lclys or Keynoldses w hich hang ' immovable iti your family portrait eallery, though you m.iv only glance at them once iu twenty years. My dear Kvelyn, you have been the lover of innumerable women: recall all your experiences of the wives of other men: does not ad your knowledge tell you that your own wife U now iu a position of the greatest peril which a sense of utter loneliness, and the bftoiti d'aimr.r ungratified, can create for anyone at her dangerous age?" Guiideroy did not reply: he rose and walked up and down the long balcony with impatience and uneasinesa. His intelligence ami his conscience both made it impossible for him to deny the force of his cousin's suggestions; and his mind, which was always open to reason even when his paxiions obscured it, could not but acknowledge the truth of them. A sudden suspicion also flashed across his thoughts. "You do not mean " said he abruptly. "You do not m an there is anyone " 'There is no one yet, certainly," replied Aubrey. "But how long it may be before supreme temptation comes to her who can say? When it does come you cannot blame htr. She can with justice say to you, vom Fa vet eoulu. I remind you again: .l lit en peccat." Guiideroy was silent. "I cannot help it," he said at last, uneasily. "I do not care for her. One cannot feign that feeling." "Hut why, in heaven's name, did you marry her?" "I thought I cared. I did care a little while. How can one account for these emotions? My dear Francis, whatever fault i may have, I am never consciously insincere. It I seem to deceive women it is because I deceive myself." "That I entirely believe. Hut it is i!-ie more hopeless for thera. Nor can I sympathize with you in any way. You might have made of her arythtng you chose if you had taken the trouble. Guiideroy was silent He was thinking of the days when in the cottatre porch at C hristslea he had quoted to John Vernon the et puer est et nudus Amor. And how wholly it iiad been with him as the dead man had predicted! " H knew me better than I knew myself," he thought. "And yet I was quite honest in what I said then and in what I urired." " Yes," said Aubrey, divining the course of his reflections; " 1 believe you are always entirely sincere, though very few people would believe it. Hut the effect of your changes of feclmcs is quite as disastrous lo other as if you were not. I think your estimate of Gladys is wholly incorrect. 1 think she would even interest you and attract yon if you deigned to occupy yourself with her character. 1 think she is a woman who would be capable even of making you passionately in love with hr, if he had not the irreparable fault of rwlonginj to you. But I have said all that I can possibly claim the right to say perhaps even more lhan I ought to luve said. I hope, however, that you will pardon ine, and think over what 1 have suggested. I believe that you would never forgive yourself if, through your neglect, any dishonor came upon your home, or even any great wrong were done to the memory of a dead man who trusted you " Then Aubrey rose, bade him good night, and quitted him. "Will it have done any good?" thought Aubrey doubtfully. "At all events, I have done what little I could do for her." His ow n heart was heavy, for his self-imposed mission had not been accomplished without much pain to himself. Far more wiiiingly, bad it been possible to do so, would he have struck the man who could be faithless to her: far more willingly would he have espoused her quarrel with the old rude weapons of violence. 'Sut to him they were forbidden by his sense of dignity and duty, of position aud of patriotism; and even if ihey had not been so, they would have been of no earthly service to her. He had little hope that anything would be of service. In endeavoring to influence his cousin he felt like a man who tries to make a solid dyke out of the shitting sand. Sometimes the dyke is made, but tbe sea is always there. He left his cousin the tormented prey of many conflicting emotions, of w hich the dominant oue waa self-reproach, although almost as strong a one was anger. Amidst his 6elf-reproach there was a strong 6ense of anger against Aubrey, who had presumed to interfere with him, and there was also a vague jealousy. What title had his cousin to epouse the cause of Gladys? What right had he to make himself the confidant of her sorrows, or the cTiarapiou of her wrongs? Her father might have said all this, and would have had the right to say it; but he did not concede to Aubrey any more right to do so than he would have allowed to any one of the gondoliers then idling at hia water-gate. A great irritation rose up in him at the thought of another man being the consoler and adviser of his wife; and he remembered how constantly Aubrey had found time to visit at Ladysrood in spring or in autumn, and to sit with Gladys in her boudoir in the London house, even in the pressnre and hurry of a crowded London season. He had been glad of it at the time; he had even constantly thanked his cousin for so much devotion to her interests; but now this intimacy wore to his eyes a less agreeable and innocent aspect Not that he suspected for a moment Aubrey of any disloyal intent Aubrey's visit to himself proved his loyalty, and testified to his candor; but the idea of his influence on Gladys, and of his defense of her was, to hira, exceedingly distastefuL "If he were married, shonld I ever presume to take him to task about bis wife?" he thought with strong displeasure. The substance of what Aubrey had said might be correct enough; it was the fact that be did say it at all which constituted bis otlense. Nevertheless tbe counsels, neither of his friend nor of his conscience, were of weight enough to turn his steps northward. He left Venice within a few days and passed onto Naples. CHAPTER XLII. Gladys did not send the letter she had written, but neither did she comprehend the greatness of the love which Aubrey called on her to give. It was such love as her father had counseled her to attain and striven to inspire in her: love which rises above ail memories of self, ana pardons all offenses against it, as God, in the draams of mortals, pardons theirs," Bat her

years were too few, her heart waa too sore, her jealousy was too intense, her passions had been too early excited only to be left in solitude and oblivion, for her to be able to reach even in mere comprehension the hight to whL'h Aubrey pointed. The days and the weeks passed on, and w inter came earlier to Ladysrood than it came to the land where Guiideroy still found the earth green and the skies and the seas smiling. Always beautiful in all seasons, yet the creat house was austere and melancholy toward the close of the year, in the short dark days and in the Ions silent nights. Its immense woods were leafless, its gardens were cold and swept by bitter winds blowing from the high rroors beyond, on still days or oiirhts, when the ea was stormy, the sound of its breakers roaring on the rocks three miles away was audible and dreary aa the very groan of nature herself. The young lady Constance grew indignant and rebellious beyond her power to conceal. "If you would only go to Illington or B&Ifrons?"Bhe said fit ty times a werk; and one day she added insolently, "Why should I stay here to please you aud my mother? What are either of you afraid of? This place is like a nunnery like a prison. It is charming enough in summer or autumn when it is full of people, but now it would drive a saint to mad ness. Have you any lover that they are afraid should come to you? Trust ine if you have and I will help you. If you tell me nothing I will elope with one of the grooms. It will be life at any rate, and it will make mother sorry she ever sent me here!" Gladys did not reply, but a few hours after she said to the girl. "I am going to London tomorrow. 1 will take you to Illiugton as I pass through your county." The girl embraced her, and was beside herself with joy. But she could not resist a covert impertinence. "Aubrey is in London!" she said with a rude smile. "1 suppose he is, since there is to be a winter session," replied her hostess. "I shall not stay in London. I am going straight to Paris." "I wish you would take me with you," said Lady Constance, repenting that she had not made herelf more agreeable, and hastily computing the toilettes, eirtiint, and pretty things in general which she might have got out" of the mistress of Ladysrood if she had concealed her own ennui and acquired influence. "I am very sorry, but 1 cannot do that for you," taid Gladys. "I will take you home, where you have so much desired to be. That is all 1 can do." Sho was in that mood in which a woman will rush on to her own torture or her own destrujtion, and would not stay though a host of angels and archangels stood in her way to turn her back from her sclf-chosen path. Site drove rapidly through London from one statiou to another; at the latter she was met on the platform by Anbrey. He had received a telegram from Illiugton announcing her departure, and I.ady Sunbury had h id only time to a id: "Prevent her leaving England at all hazards!" The express was on the point of departure; he had no time to say a word; he entered the carriage with her. "1 must speak to you," he said, hurriedly. "I can get back to the house by II o'cloci." She did not reply; she wns annoyed and offended. She resented this treatment of her as of some imprudent child whom all his family considered they had a right to control. Aubrey looked tired and sick. Times in England were troubled, and political life stormy and thankless. He did not relax his energies; but a weary sense grew on him more strongly every year that the combat was useless, and that, although still veiled under parliamentary formula and constitutional fictions, the country was practically abandoned to mob rule. And he looked at the woman whom he admitted to his own thoughts that he loved, and he felt that he was powerlvas either to touch her heart or to save her from' misery. She asvery pale; even her 'lips were pale, and her blue eyes looked almost black; but the dark furs of her traveling hood and of her long cloak enhanced the w hiteness of her complexion and the brightness of her hair. She 6at opposite to him in silence; the was deeply resentful of his presence there, and she did not aid him by a single sentoi03. "You are going to join Guiideroy?" he asked abruptly at length. "Have I no right to do so?" 6he asked coldly. Aubrey cave a gesture of impatience. "When women speak of their rights their joys are gone," he thought, and answered aloud: "No one could di.-pute your right, my dear. But it is not always wise to use our right. That I have said to you often before now." She was still silent. "You had my letter the day I left you at La Ivsrood?" he asked. "Yes." "And it made no impression on you?" "It was very noble, no doubt. But yon are not in my place. You cau not judge." "Can you judge clearly, do you think? How much do you see that is true, and how much distorted? How much that is wise, and how much that is unwise? Feeling is a dangerous guide. It leads us into fatal errors." I have resisted mine lotur enough." "And you are tired of resistance. That I can understand. But if you are wise, my dear, and unselfish, you will continue to resist. What good can it do for you to see him in your present state of violent irritation?" "I wish to know the truth." "I would rather." he added more passionately, "know any truth the worst truth than live like a child, like an atiim il, like a plant told nothing, hearing nothing, unconsidered and disregarded, as month after month goes on. If I am not dear to him, I am a burden to him; there can be no medium between the two. Iet him say so to me honestly, and 1 will trouble him no more." "What would you do" "I can live very well on what my father left me." "You mean that you will separate yourself from Guiideroy?" "Will you tell me why I should not?" "There are a thousand reasons. Chief of all there is the supreme reason that you belong to him, and that you care immensely for him, though you now only listen to your anger." Her face flushed. "It is an insult to say that to me." "My dear child, do not insult anyone. It is not my habit. It is the highest honor to her that a woman should remain faithful oimnd vxrm. You seem to me to be ashamed or what is really the finest quality in your character. Youth hns often that sort of via uvaite honte before its best emotions." "You admire UrUrllix, as my father did!" "I do not ask you to be Grixrldti. You are not beaten, outraged, or robbed of your children; that which you have to complain of you would probably have been spared if you had endeavored to be more indulgent end to puss over what would never been thrust on you if you had not looked for it." The train rushed on through the heavy gray darkness; the lamp swinging above their heads, ami iu yellow light fhone on her face, on which a great anger gathered. "I know you only care for his reputation because he is a branch of your own great house," she said- coldly. "It is no doubt natural you should feel so. It is perhaps as natural that I should feel otherwise." "That is untrue and unjust." said Aubrey, with the only sterness she had ever heard from him. "I have been always your friend, ofteu at preat cost to myself, and I have more than once run all risks ot rupture with my cousia for your sake in the endeavor to persuade him to give you greater happiness and greater consideration. I say nothing more to you than your own father said, who, of course, cared alone for you and nothing for my eousin. I endeavor to dissuade you from your journey now, because I know that to follow Guiideroy will only appear to him espionage, surveillance, interference, curiosity everything which is most irritating to the pride and to the liberty of man. He left you in irritation; when his irritation is passed he will return to you, if you do not of your own accord raise some insurmountable obstacle." She did not reply; her eyes gazed somberly through the glaas at the darkness of the night and the reflection of the lamp. "I entreat you," he continued, "not to leave England. In England you are with all of us; you are safe in reputation and in circumstance. Ladysrood is too lonely for so young a woman as you are, but my sister will be beyond expression glad if you will stay with her indefinitely, wherever she be. She said so to me only this morning." "She is very good, but I shall not trouble her." 'This is tbe sheer madness of obstinacy. What will yoa accomplish by folio wiAg inj

cousin? lie will not pardon It if yoa follow and arraign hira. What good can it possibly do? What use is the mere momentary indulgence of anger when it must inevitably be followed by a life-time of regret. The greatest evil of all such upbraidings as you will make to him, if you see him in your present state of irritated pain, is that in them everyone says bo much than they wish or mean; wild and bitter words are exchanged w hich can never be forgotten, even if they are ever pardoned, and that which might have been a mere passing sorrow:, a temporary estrangement, is deepened and widened into a life-long enmity. I have said to you, before, all that it is possible to say. I only entreat you now to be guided by it, and remain in England." Iler heart was hardened acainst her best friend. Like almost every woman, she was only capable of believing that those alone loved her who whoily agreed with her and, without reserve, sympathized in all her emotions. She had even doubted her father's affection for her, because it had been critical and temperate in judgment. Her heart now was sore, hurt, apprehensive, full of anger and yet unbearable indignation; she would have liked her companion to give herlimitloss, unquestioning consolation and indignation likewise. She longed to weep her heart out on the breast of a friend: to cry out against fate, and love, and earth ana heaven, and all the cruel treacheries of human life, and bear some voice full of compassion echo all her own cries. Hut Aubrey seemed to her only to rebuke her, only to palliate all she Buffered from, only to study the interest of his family and the conventionalities of the world. It closed her heart to him. She was too full of paiu and nnger both to penetrate his motives or even fur aa itistaut to dream of his selfdenial. He was powerless to persuade or to control her. All the influence which he had possessed upon her before was lost in the flood of blind and passionate impulses let loose in her by the pain of jealousy. She knew well enough that he was right; but she would not open her ears to his counsels or her heart to his kindness. If be had been less loyal to bis cousin he might have been more successful in his persuasions. If be had conjured her by his own affection he might have prevailed upon her to return. Hut no syllable which could have been even influenced by personal desires escaped him. John Vernon risen from his grave could not have spoken with more absolute selfdenial than he did. And he gained no influence, he made no impression; jealousy and indignation, and thebiiter sen.se of ignorance and wrong, were all hardening her heart, and driving her on in strong self-will, regardless of tbe issue of the fate which she provoked. Every argument which he could use, every inducement, conjuration, and even prayer which he could call to his aid he exhausted in in vain. She knew that her husband and the woman whom he had told her he loved more thanuny other creature upon earth were somewhere in Italy together. England in its dark and early winter seemed to her only like that ice-prison which holds the bodies of the damned in the verse of Dante. Wearied, pained and mortified, Aubrey at" lpst desisted from bis endeavors and remained silent as the train flew through the country silences on w ard tow ard Dover. "I am not my cousin's keeper," he thought bitterly. "Aud very likely if he knew what I am doing now he would only misconstrue my reasons, aud rebuke me for meddlesome interference!" There was no sound but that of the oscillation of the train sw inging at headlong epeed over its iron sleepers. Neither spoke again till the journey was almost done. "You will not w:irn him that I am going away!" she said suddenly once. "I am not an informer, as I told you once before." he answered co.dly. "Hut his sister will no doubt find some way to let him know that you h.ive lett England." "It does not matter," she replied as coldly, and, she thought, wretchedly. "He never changes or pauses in his wishes for me!" The silence remained unbroken until the slackening of the speed of the train told them that they were near the docks of Dover. Then Aubrey, stooped a little forward, and, resting his gray eyes upon her sadly, said with great gentleness, ye' with a coldness which she bad never heard from him: "If you have any true confidence in my judgment and in my affection for yon. listen to me. Sleturn here and wait till Guildetoy comes to you of his own accord. If you have patience that time will not be lont." She heard the wise words with the impatience of a woman who knows beforehand what advice she is about to receive, and has beforehand decided to follow none of it. Aubrey seemed to her cold, unsympathetic, conventional; she wanted his grief and indignation as her Hiipport; she was almost unjust enough to s.ty herself that the clnnnish feeling of family dignity made hira think more of preserving his cousin's name from public comment than of her own personal pain. She was in that state when every form of consoiatiou or counsel seems an irritant or a mockery; when, as Horace has it, anger being unbridled becomes the violent tyrant of the soul. "I have a right to know. I have a right to know," she repeated to herself. They all seemed to deny her that right; they all seemed to think that she should submit to stay in tutelage and acquiescence, asking nothing and arranging nothing until her husband should, at his good will and pleasure, deign to recall once more the fact that she existed. Their names were great, no doubt, and their lives were before the world; but if he chose to sully tliein and Rive them to idle calumny it was no fault of hers. There was a brief and tempestuous winter session then on, from which it was impossibe for Aubrey to absent himself even a day. Even if he could have done so. he might have been the cause of more harm than good, he thought, if he forced his presence upon her in the journey on which her heart was set. Even his

cousin himself, uncertain of temper and capricious in his judgments, might look on such an interference with wrong interpretation of it. lie saw nothing that he could do, for the time being, except to leave her to her own choice of action. Thing might, perchance, become better than he feared they would do. He knew that it is of little use to try to be the providence for other lives. The unforeseen is sure to intervene, and aceident at every moment overturns the schemes and the wishes of man with a fractiousness which no one can prevent. "You must take your own way, my dear," he said, with a sigh. "I hope you will never re gret it." Then he accompanied her on to the vessel and bade her farew ell. The night w as cold, but clear; a strong sparkling, frosty sky and a scarcely ruffled sea. He held her hand a moment in his as he parted from her on the deck. "I am sorry I cannot come with you to Paris," he said, with a great coldness despite himself still in his tone. "Hut I must be in the house to-night by It at latest. God bless you, dear; smce you will go, be prudent and be unselfish. Women stiller much at times no doubt from the selfishness of men, but sometimes I think they repent their own more bitterly when they give way to it. And how often mere selfishness is called love." Then he let her hand go, and left her standing on the deck of the steamship under the clear, cold skies. Hia heart was heavy, as a special train carried him backward in his solitude to Westminister as fa-t as steam could bear him through the night. "You filled hit barren lifo with tressure: You nur withdraw the gifts you gave;" he thought, in the words of the unknown writer to which he had taken a causeless fancy. "Nay, she has given ifie no treasure at all, and she takes away nothing because she gave nothing. The pi ft was given to a life not barren, but already over full, and I have no part or share in either her pleasures or her joys. Why should I have? She has used me like a dog which could swim through some rough currents to save.' her; but she is dow in the deep sea, and if she can be saved it cannot be ' by me." j And that tempter which dwells in the heart , of man. and which he had once said at Ladys- ! rood made it almost possible to believe in the , old-world myths of devilish agencies, whispered to him now, if he hud been less loyal, if he had done as other men would have done, if he had used his many opportunities and his power of influence over her to turn her heart away ! from his cousin, and win it in its revulsion and ', reaction to himself, he would have-done no more than what nearly every man would have oAna in Kt i fklaAsft An. I in f V a i i c It a miK have been consoled, and he at the least been happy. . iCv:dinucd nat vuL) -

IKON-CLAD ELECTION BILL

INTRODUCED BY SENATOR ANDREWS. Full Text of a Strong Measure for the Protection of the litllot Rot, KmbraciDg the Main Features of the Australian System. The following i the election bill introduced in the senate day by .Senator Andrews: A bill for an act concerning elections, providing penalties for the violation of the same and repealing all laws in conllict therewith: De it enacted by the O'enerat A&semUy of Üie State'of lad ana: .Section 1. The county commissioners of each eounty in this state shall, at their first session after the taking eilcct of this act, divide the townships of their reepoctive counties into election precincts and MablUb the boundaries of the same. Such board of commissioners shall designate at least one place of holding elections ia each towuhip, and every township in which only one place of holding electious is designated ehail constitute a precinct. There shall be but one voting place in a precinct. No precinct 6hall contain more than 20d elector. If at any election hereafter "00 or more votes chall be cast at any voting place.it shall be the duty of the inspector of elections in such precinct to report the ?;ime to the board of county commissioners, who bhall, at their next regular meeting, divide suvh precinct as equally as possible so that the uew precincts formed thereof shall ea h contain not more than 2'X) electors, and h.ill report such division to the clerk of the circuit court of such county and to the secretary of state, together with the estimated number of votes in each of the new precincts. If such board shall fail to act as herein directed any qualified voter of the county may apply for a writ of mandamus to compel a performance of this duty. Sec. 2. The county commissioners of any county may change the boundaries of any precinct within such county, or divide any precinct into two or more precincts, or consolidate two or more precincts into oue, or change any place of holding elections, whenever public convenience or the public good may require it: proviiel, that no such change, division or consolidation shall be made after the Juue term of such commissioners next preceding any election ; and provide i further, that no such change, division or consolidation bhall be valid without giving due notice, at least one mouth before any election, cither by pubiicatiou in the newspaper having the largest circulation in such county or by posters put up in tour of tbe most public places in each precinct; and provided Jnrthrr, that no precinct shall be enlarged so as to contain more tlmn 200 electors. Sec. 3. Township trustees shall, by virtue of their olhce, be inspectors of election in the precincts in which they respectively reside, and shall, prior to the opening of the polls iu such precinct, appoint aa judges of election two qualified electors of such precinct, who fIip.U have been freeholders aud resident householders therein for at least one year next preceding such election, and who are members of dbiorent political parties and of the parties which cast the highest number of votes in such precinctatttie next preceding general election ; yrotided, that if at least oue week or more prior to such election the chairman of the county central committee of either of tbe tw o parties that cast the birgest number of votes in the state at the last general election shall designate a member of such party as judge he shall be appointed; and such judges, together witli the inspector, shall constitute a board of election. No person shall be eligible as a member of the board of election who has anything of value bet or wagered on the result of such election, or who is a candidate to be voltd for at such election, or who is father, father-in-law, son, fcOti-i:i-law, grandfather, grandson, brother, brother-in-law, uncle, nephew, first or second cousin of any candidate at such election. If at any time before, or during art election, it shall b'j made to appear to any ifisoector, by the affidavit of two or more qualified electors of the preciuct, that either of the judges is disqualified under the provisions of this Act, he shall at once remove such judge and till the plae with a qualified person of the same political party as the judge removed; and in case such disqualified judge shall have taken the oath of othce hereinafter prescribed, the inspector shall place such oath and the aifidivit be( 'y the celt grand jury of the county. " Sec. 4. Whenever any board of c"V- ty commissioners shall designate more than' t. e precinct in any township it shall at the Jun term of said board next preceding any election appoint in each precinct in which no tow nship trustee reides as inspector of such election some qualified voter ot such precinct who shall have been a freeholder and a resident householder in such precinct for at least one year next preceding; such election. Such board of county commissioners shall hold a special session one week before each election, and shall fill ail vacancies that may have occurred in the office of inspector, and bha.ll fill any vacancy occurring tiiereaiter at any regular or called session of tbe board previous to the election. Such appointed inspector shall before the time of opening the election in his precinct appoint two election judges if the same have not already been appointed as hereinbefore provided in the 6ame manner and under the same requirements as provided for township trustees actin it as inspectors; and such judges and inspectors shall constitute the board of election for such precinct. If any member of an election board shall fail to appear at the hour appointed for the opening of the polls the remainder of the board shall select a member of his political party to serve in bis stead: provided, that if the qualified electors of his party present at the polls shall nominate a qualified person for such vacancy, such nominee shall be appointed. If none of the members of an election board 6hall appear at the hour appointed for opening the polls the qualified electors present shall elect a board viva voce, s nearly as possible in conformity with the provisions hereof. Sec. 5. Such board of election shall appoint as poll clerks two qualified electors of such precinct one from each of the two parties that cast the largest vote in the state at the last general election: provile that if four days or more prior to such election the chairman of the county central committee of either of the two parties that cast the largest number of votes in the state at the last cencral election shall designate a member of such party as poll clerk such nominee shall be appointed. Sec. 6. (Same as seo. 4.C01, Revised Statutes.) Sec. 7. In all cases in which appointments of election ofiicers are required herein to be made from certain political parties, in cane there shall be two or more factious of either of such parties, each of which claims to represent 6uch party, the person or authority herein authorized to make such appointment shall decide whtch faction is the representative of such party and appoint accordingly. Sec 8. (Same aa sec. 4,ou3, Revised Statutes.) Sec 0. (Same aa sec 4,G01, Revised Statutes.) Sec. 10. (Same as sec. 4,605, Revised Statutes.) See 11. The board of county commissioners of each county shall provide, at the expense of the county, two ballot boxes, one painted red and one painted white, for each precinct; each ballot box shall have at least two locks, and be otherwise so constructed as to contribute toward the prevention of fraud. Seo. 12. (Same aa sec. 4,697, Revised Statutes.) Sec 13. (Same as chap. LXV, laws 1SSÖ, p. 176.) Sec 14. (Same as sec. 4,6W, Revised Statutes. See. 15. (Same as sec 4,700, Revised Statutes.) Bee. 16. It is shall be the duty of the sherill of each county to appoint, at least three days prior to each election, two special deputies for each precinct in the county, to be known as election sheriffs, who shall attend the polling places in their respective precincts from the opeuing of the polls to the conclusion of the count; it shall be their duty to preserve order at the polls and enforce the provisions of the election law, under the direction of the election board, and make arrests on the demand of a member of the board, or on affidavit, as hereinafter provided. One of such election sheriffs shall be chosen from each of the two parties that cast the largest number ot votes in the state at the last general election: and if, three days prior to such election, the chairman of the county central committee of either of such parties shall nominate a member of his party for cJtcUou iksuiX la s&r 4i&cl ituJi swiiws

stiall be appointed. If any election eberi shall fail to appear at th-; opening of the polls, the member or members of the election board of his political party shall appoint a person to act in his place. Compensation ot two dollars and fifty cents (.'.-xi) per day shall be allowed to each election sheriff by the board of county commissioners. No other peace ofiicers of the state or anv division thereof shall be allow ed w ithin fifty feet of tfc polls, except to serve process of courts or to) vote, unless summoned by the election theriZs. Sec. 17. The secretary of 6tüte, and tw qualified electors by hiui appointed, one from each of the two political parties that cart the largest number of votes in the etat- at the last preceding general clectiou. shall constitute state board of election commissioners. Sucl appointments shall be made at least thinr days prior to each general election, and if, prior to that time, the chairman of the state central committee of either of such parties shall nominate, in writing, a member of his own party for such appointment, the secretary of state shr.ll appoint sut-h nominee. In case of death or tPsabilitv of cither appointee, the secretary of state shaft notify the chairman of the said central committee of such appointee' political party, and such chairman may, within three das thereafter, recommend a successor, w ho shall thereupon be appointed. I'roiilel that if such chairman sluul fail to tnak recommendations of appointment within the time specified, the secretary of state shall makesuch appointment of his own selection from the two parties aforesaid. It shall be the duty of said board to prepare and distribute ballot aud iiaiups for election of all officers for whom all the electors of the state are ent'tled to vote, in compliance with the provisions of the election law. The members ot such board 6hall serve wiihout compensation. Sec IS. In each eounty in the state tho clerk of the circuit court and two persons br him appointed, one from each of two political parties that cast the largest number of votes ia the state at the last general election, shall constitute a county board of election commissioners. fSaid appointments shall be made in all respects as appointment to the state board of election commissioners are required to be mada by the secretary of state, except that the privilege of nomination shall belong to the chairmen of the eouity central committees of tb two parties atoresaid. It fhall be the duty of such board to prepare and distribute bailot for election of ail officers to be voted lor in such county other than those who are to b voted for by nil the electors of tbe state, in Compliance w ith the provisions of this act. Sec. l;. The said boards of election commissioners sb-ii' cause to be printed on the respective hallo: the names of the candidate nominated by tbe conventions of any party that cast 1 per cent, of the total vote of th state at the fast preceding general election as certified to said boards by tbe presiding otijeer and secretary of suc h convention; and also tha names of any candidates tor any office when petitioned so to do by electors qualified to vote for such candidates as follows: For a state, officer or any officer for whom all the electors of the state are entitled to vote 000 petitioners; for a representative in congress from any congressional district 200 petitioners; for a county officer, member of the general assembly, circuit judge or prosecuting attorney, 100 petitioners; for an otMc-r of a township, ward or other division less than a county, thirty petitioners. The signatures to such petition need not be appended to one paper, but no petitioner shall be counted except bis residence and postoffice address be designated. Such petitions shall state the name and residence of each of such candidates; that be is legally qualified to hold such office; that the subscribers desire and are legally qualified to vota for such candidates; and may desicnate a brief name or title of the party or principie which said candidates represent, together with any simple figure or device by which they shall b designated on the ballots. The certificate of nomination by a convention, shall be in writ-, iiig and shall contain the name of each person nominated, his residence and the office for w hich he is nominated, and shall oesignate ft title for the party or principle which such convention represents, together w ith any simple figure or device by which its list of candidate may be designated on the ballots; said certificate shall be signed by the presiding officer ani secretary of such convention, w ho hall add to their signatures their respective places of residence and acknow ledge the &ame before an officer duly authorized to take acknowledgements ot deeds. If the certiticaie of notnina tion of any state convention shall request that the figure or device selected by 6uch convention he ued to designate the candidates of such party on the ballots for all elections' tnroughout the state, such figure or device shall be so used until changed by request of a subsequent state convention of the same party. A certificate of such acknowledgments shall be appended to such instrument. In case of the death of any candidate subsequent to nomination, unless a supplemental certificate or petition of nomination be filed, the chairman of the state or county committee shall fill such vacancy. In case of a division in any party aiid claim by two or more factions to the same party name or title or figure or device the board of election commissioners shall give the preference of name to the couvention held at the time and place designated in the call of the rejrulaMy constituted party authorities, and if the other faction shall present on other party name, title or device, the board of election commissioners shall place the word "boltiutc" before the title of said taction on tbe ballot and select some suitable device to designate its candidates. If two or more conventions be called by authorities claiming to be the rightful authorities of any party the proper board of election commissioners shall decide which is the rightful party convention, and print the ballots accordingly. Certificates and petitions of nomination of candidates for offices to be voted for by the electors of the entire state sh;ill be filed with the secretary of state. Certificates anl petitions of nomination of candidates tor offices to be voted for by electors of any district or division of the state exclusive'y shall be filed with the clerks of the circuit courts of the counties or county included in or including such district or division. See. 20, If any certificate or petition of nomination shall contain the name of more than one candidate for any office to be filled neither name shall be printed as a candidate for such office. If any person shall join in nominating by petition more than one nominee for any oGice to be filled such person shall not be counted as a petitioner for either nomination. Sec. 21. The secretary of state and tb county clerks sbll cause to be preserved in their respective offices all certificates and petitions of nomination filed therein under th provisions of this act for six months after the election for which such nominations were made Sec 22. Certificates and petitions of nomination filed with the secretary of tate, shall be tiled not more than sixty days' and not less than twenty days before the cay fixed by the law for the election of the persons in nomination. Certificates ami petitions of nomination herein directed to be filed with the clerk of a county shall be filed not more than sixty and not leva than fifteen days before election. Sec. 23. Not less than eighteen days before an election to fill any public office for which all the electors are entitled to vote, the secretary of stateshall certify to the county clerk of eacn county the name and the description of each person nominated for such office, as specified in the certificates and petitionsof nom nation filed with the secretary of state, and shall designate therein the device made in which the proup or list of candidates of each party will be printed and the order in which they will be arranged. Sec. 24. At least seven days before an eleotion to fill any public office at which the electors of any county are entitled to vote, tbe county clerk of such county shall cause to be published in at least two newspapers within the county, the nominations to office certified to bira by the secretai y of state and also those filed with the county clerk. He shall make not less than two such publications in each of such newspapers before election, one of such publications in each newspaper shall be upon the last d ty upon which such newspaper is issued berore e.eetion. Such publication shall bemalein two newspapers representing the political parties that at the last preceding cen rsl election cast the largest number of votes in the state, if such papers there be. Tbe liM of nominations published by ?he county clerks shall be arranged, as far as practicable. In the orderand form in which they will be printed opon the tickets and hll designate the device under which the group or list of candidates of each party will be printed. Sec. 25. The secretary of state shall not oer tifj kbe xuuue of ft candidate whose certificate