Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 35, Number 3, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 February 1889 — Page 1

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0 VOL. XXXV XO. 3. INDIANAPOLIS. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 20. 1889. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

GUILDEROY

BYAuthor of "Under Two Flas," "Two Little Wooden Shoes," "Chandos," "Don GesuaMo," Etc. Sow first published. All r'ghts reserved. ciiaptek u Knowing the world profoundly a3 lio di.I, he divined all that the world was Baying of Gladys, not in his hearing indeed, nor in that of any member of his family, l'Ut nevertheless paying unsparingly, inevitably, with all its inexhaustible powers of exaggeration and invention. Who beside himself and the few who knew her intimately would believe in the ptory as f-he told it, in the motives as the gavj Iherr. ? When her position was a target for the arrow of slander, how could she epcapo them? Who would Klieve in the pride

j-.u'i iiiuiguaiiuu ji ii iuaiduvi,ruu w rieaa was liunibk'tl. lie coulü near, as c hildlike in its impulses and so unworldly though he were present at them, the millin its estimates that it could avenge its j ion and one dilFerent conversations in urn bv uti-innm itsidf nf vprv mate- ! which the fartf her separation from her

rial ail vantage and every pleasure and jiomp ot life? Her choice was one of those things which the world will till the day of judgment utterly refuse to credit, because, breaking all its cannons and ignoring rM its estimates, they afford to it no kind of .oniLion ground on which their motives .'an be- judged. Aubrey knew that, and lie knew that it would be as likely a txsk to persuade ?f cse hissing on a common of the beauty it a sunrise as to induce the mass of society to give credence to the reasons which had led her to return to the house of Christslea. It was an exgnggerated statement, and wlicn some Mea of what she bad done was bruited about in Focictyitwas called morbid and mad by the few who did not go still further and say that she had been forced to do it by her husband on the discovery of her attachment to his cousin. It was aa unwise act unwise with that mingling of subl mity and folly which characterizes most acts of any strong feeling. She seemed by it to give color and gronnd to the conjectures raised against her; it was an error which none but a very young and very proud woman would have made. The money which her father had inherited, and which had come in due course to her, Guilderoy had immediately secured to her in such a manner that it was her own as ab-olutely as if bhe had never married. Un5er her marriage settlements .-..-., j j ... - j her father had been hr.Only trustee, aml - his sudden death had made her sole mistress of her actions. Vernon had never felt the least anxiety as to her safety in her husband's hands with regard to all material welfare. Guilderoy was at all times not only generous but scrupulous in the observance of all observations of that kind, and had never had the slightest disorder in his personal affairs. What he had once promised in the little study at Christslea on this point he had thoroughly and blamelessly fulfilled. She was, therefore, fo placed now that no one except himself could have any legal title to interfere in her actions, and he did not seek to interfere. It angered him deeply, it oppressed and humiliated him to know that his wife was living on her own resources in a little cottage ten miles off" his own country hon . lie was well aware ot how the wlm'e world of their acquaintances would spcal; of so strange a thing, and of how many and how strange would be the constructions placed upon it. T.ut he did not endeavor to prevent it. He felt that he ha 1 wronged her too much to have any moral right to dictate to her. It seemed to him , . , , that only a cur could exercise the power given him by the law, when he ha 1 volnntarily declined the power given hun bv power given nun nv the affections. To attempt to dictate to his wife when he had abandoned her would have appeared to him the very basest depth of low breeding. Her choice embarrassed and pained him; it made him feel foresworn in all the promises which he had given to provide for her material welfare; it rendered the memory of John Vernon doubly reproachful to him. fie knew that it must emphasize and darken his own acts in tho sight of his relatives and his society :n general. To a man like him. who was always careful to atone for moral unkindness to women by great care for their material welfare, and who looked on them as beautiful and delicate animals which needed luxury and phelter as racers did, it was intensely distressing to think that the woman be had made the bearer of his name should be living in a manner which to him seemed scarcely above penury. His pride was hurt by it; both 'hi3 pride of place and that higher kind of pride which goes with the sentiments of a gentleman. He never dreamed that the world would blame her, as it did do, instead of himself, and he felt that he must appear in its eight a brute, who not only wronged but defrauded his wife. He was very far from imagining that the capriciousness of society would transfer all its blame from him to her. Knowing the world as ho did, such inversion of it never occurred to him as possible. P.ut (JIadys had never had the favor of her world. All her courtesies, her generosities, her many thoughtful and tenderhearted act9 had failed to atone for the unconscious hauteur of her manner and the tacit rebuke which her silence was to the amusements around her. She had had at all times as her enemies the many women who bad loved and had lost Guilderoy, and their voices in the earliest days of her debut Lad set the current of feeling against her. Kumor excused his weaknesses and distorted her failings. The Duchess Soria wm beloved and followed by the great world. It had never condemned, it would always be very slow to condemn her. It would unquestionably hesitate to see anythingcharmful in any of her friendships; and i would as certainly refuse to believe that any woman of years so youthful as those of Gladys would voluntarily and innocently retire into the poverty of a rural and obscure life. The world ha its own reasons for believing and for disbelieving; the facts of any case do not enter into these; nor in any way affect them. There are those who can do no wrong in its sight, and these have a charter of. infallibility ; there

are others who can do nothing to its taste, and these are condemned even before they act. Then not a few also were envious of what was considered her accparement of such a man as Aubrey. His great position and reputation made him the desire and the despair of many; and when it was peen how much time" he could find to give to his cousin's young wife, though for no other dalliances" of the fort had he leisure, there had never been wanting those who were ready to surges! that his attentions to Lady Guil.leroy had as their ultimate object something much less innocent than the lucre pleasantness of family regard. The proud and the delicate disdain the favor of the world, but they pay heavily for their disdain! The favor of ihe world makes us walk on the sunny side of the street, gives us a south aspect to our house of life, sweeps the dust and the mud from the paths we tread, and when we set sail from any port Bends us favoring winds and smiling seas. She had never had that pliability and popularity which gives a woman in a diflicuit position the support of a thousand friends who make common cause with her. That rare high-breeding and that delicate hauteur which had marked her actions and manner in the world had made her many enemies. There were few other women in Kuropeau society who would not be gratified to think that proud young

t....l.l 11 ... ,i: ..,-.-.l onnt,.n...l lor, embroidered on, censured, and ridicuicd, all by turns. Xo one wrote to her or came to her except her one friend. The world will always let anyone fall out of its favor who chooses to do so. She had made none of those intimacies with women which give a woman sympathy and support. She had been disdainful of the society of her own sex; to her mind, ued to communion with such intelligences as her father's and Aubrey's, feminine conversation and confidences seemed trivial and frivolous. Men who had admired her despite her coldness, and would gladly have atoned to her for her husband's neglect had sh-,i given them the slightest sign of permission, were afraid to seek her out in her solitude, because of the generalicredited report that Aubrey was primarily responsible for tier selection of it. lie was not a man with whom other men cared to meddle. The very coldness and indifference to women of his life hitherto made it generally supposed that his dedication of hiiuselt to his cousin's wife argued some deep mutual attraction which would not brook any interference. It was altogether in vain that he in real truth saw her seldom, was careful to do nothing which could give grounds for calumny, and made his visits to her of brief duration. The world only saw in such scrupulous care the secrecy and the consciousness of a concealed intrigue vhich his public career made it necessary to conduct with tho iuost delicate observance of appearance. "It is nothing new; he was always in love with her," said men and women both; and it seemed to them all as clear as daylight that it was the origin of Guilderov's abandonment of her. lie lntd discovered what he did not choose to condone, no doubt, and so had exiled her to her father's house in preference to seeking any more public remedy. He und Aubrev were near relatives. Their families were proud. Of course the matter had been arranged thus for the sake of peace and of the avoidance of the country's disapprobation; the attitude of Lady Sunbury and her ominous silence made them certain that this was the truth of the whole position. They blamed Aubrey more than they blamed Guilderoy. The latter had always been frankly a man of pleasure, un homme leger; he had never assumed any serious attitude before the nation. l'ut Aubery was a politician of distinction and of immense influence ; that he should cause any scandal of the sort seemed an otrense against the country itself a kind of immoralitv which was almost a treachery to it. "Ami his cousin's wife, too!" they cried; "and a woman so young!" All the great ladies who had had histories in their own liven, and all the fashionable femmes tarees who kept their footing with difficulty in society, were so shocked that they could not bring themselves to speak of it. And a Scotch waiting-woman who had taken service im n rtumi iiitiii liiutiusn ui ei y piiiii reli;rious opinions sighed and hinted that phe ,jatJ ft , lv nilderoy'n nervice k ,-. r i i ..i with a Scotch marchioness of very strict because even at that time Lord Aubrev had been more intimate in his couin's house than her principles had permitted her to countenance. "I am a poor woman who work for my bread, my lady," said the good creature, "and I have live small children dependent on my earnings; but let me suffer what I might, I could never consent to prosper by taking the wages of sin !" "Your feelings and vour scruples do you very great honor," said her employer, who M as" of a different political party to that of which Aubrey was a leader. And little by little the impression grew into a certainty with the world that Guilderoy, however blarrablo, bad had much cause to blame others, and to leave the country. CHAPTER LI. The delicately good taste of Beatrice Soria Had made it easy for the high society of Europe to see nothing, if it cho-e to see nothing, blamable in the rent wed intimacy between her and Guilderoy. Theirs was one oi those positions they are not rare in which the popularity or unpopularity of the persons concerned wholly determines the amount of indulgence or of censure which they shall receive from others. Tact goes for much in this, and distinction for much. The great lady does unbiamed what the woman of yesterday would be stoned for attempting. There is a sublime nonchalance and a calm superiority to calumny which repel it utterly much more effectually than' any mere virtue. The world but asks from us external observances ; if we do not give these, we are such fools that we merit that sentence of banishmc nt from it which is as terrible as the fiat of exile to Ovid. lieatrice Soria had always been heedful to give those observances; not from want of courage, for she had great courage, but from good breeding. It seemed to her vulgar to put out your passions in the street, as the poor Jiang their soiled linen. It is enough for you to know your own happiness; you do not want the "crowd to see the rose hung above vour portal. She Lad made it her condition that he should now leave his wife utterly for her sake, because it seemed to her that nothing less than that could atone to her for his abandonment of herself, could reconcile her to her own lost dignity, or insure, hi r sgainst a merely partial offering of his life, such as would have seemed to her at once an insolence and a humiliation. "I alone, or nothing 1" she had said, as every woman says it, although so few have power to enforce it. It had leen the only means by which ehe had been able to tebt the

sincerity of his regret and the loyalty of his return. True, she had sacrificed to it an inno

cent woman ; but it was only natural that the lullness ot her own triumph had weighed more with her than any memory of her rival's misery. Like all great conquerors she felt that it was not for her to heed or to pause for the fallen. She was in no way a cruel woman, but she felt the contempt of all women who have great dominion over men for those who cannot attain equal power over them. "She has loveliness, and youth, and many rare qualities of both heart and mind, and ytt 6hecan only sigh and suffer because he is faithless!" she had often thought with wondering disdain of Gladys as she had studied her in society. She allowed nothing in their apparent intercaurse which could give rise to any scandal, except such as must be inevitably roused by his continued residence in Italy. She made him live in his own houses, visit her with precaution, and never publicly presume upon his relations to her. It was her wisdom aa well as her good taste which influenced her. She knew the truth that Dulcia ferimus: succo renovamur amore; and she did not allow their intimacy to be degraded into a too facile habit which would inevitably have become with time careless and over-sure. She knew his nature and the temperament of men too well to allow him that too constant access to happiness which f-oon results in making 6uch happiness insipid and unenjoyed. All the faults which had cost her so dear in her lirst association with him she avoided now; and even still at times he was so doubtful of his influence over her, despite all the proofs he had of it, that he asked himself uneasily whether his surrender to her had not been demanded by her rather through pride than love. It was th uncertainty, the stimulant, the mortification, which were needful to sustain at its strength the passion of a man whose conquests had been as easy as his caprices, and had been short-lived. "Even now I do not believe that you love me as you used to do !" he said to her more than once. She smiled. "What is love?" she said dreamily. "Sometimes 1 think it is the mot absurd and the basest feeling of our lives; and sometimes I think it is the only spark of immortality which we ever have in us." "It seems to me immortal when I look on you," he answered; m l he was sincere in what he said. All these months h?d passed with him in a happiness which had been more nearly the ideal happiness of his early dreams than any he had ever known. His reconquest of her glorious physical beauty and the potent and subtile charm of her intelligence exercised a sway over him which was deeper and more enduring than the first passion which she bad excited in him. The amorous spell which lies in the climate of the country which had always been the land of his preference, and the easy languor of life in it, added to the spell of her influence upon him. llo marvel ed however ho could have been mad enough to leave her; he wondered how he had passed years of hisexistence without !ir. Jüther warned by her previous loss of him, or calmed by the greatness and completeness of tier triumph, or perchance bringing now into her relations with him as much of wisdom as she had once brought of passion, she gave him all the loveliness of love without its exactions and its violence. She bent all tho varied resources of her mind, which wert infinite, and all the powers of her seductions, which were endless, to prove to him all that he had mi.sscd in missing her, all which no other woman on earth could give to him; ami she succeeded. She succeeded, now that it was a matter with her rather of supremacy, and pride, and triumph, than "of love, where she had failed when it had been to her a thing of life and of death, on which all her soul had been cast. Passion serves women ill; it makes their eyes blind, their steps rash, their acts unwise, and unselfishness in love serves them still worse. Desire of dominion, on the contrary, is their most safe and subtle servant, pla. ing illimitable power in their hands and leaving their sight clear to use it in their own interest as they will. Beatrice Soria had been a bettor woman when he had thought her a worse one, a tenderer woman when he had thought her a more violent one; her heart still beat for him, but no more with the rash, ardent, delirious warmth of earlier davs. Dominant over her impulses of revived passion was a colder ami more egotistic intent to make him and to keep him once more wholly hers. In the autumn of tho year, Guilderoy was for a while in Venice, nominally living at his own palazzino there, whilst she was at one of the villas of the lirenta, which she had inherited as part of her mother's dower; one of those marvels of art and architecture which stand amidst the galdiolus-tilled marshes and the green mulberry-shaded pastures of the Vene to, so little known, bo rarely visited, but as much memorials of the greatness ami luxury of the Venetian patriarchs as are the streets of the city herself. In early autumn when the rose and white alveoli e are in flower in all the hedges, and the last aftermath is being mown in the meadows, and the barges come down the river laden with purplo and yellow grapes, and the marvellous sunsets burn over the widesoreading waters, and the little gray owls flit under the poplar shadows, these villas on the IJrent form as lovely retreat as the world can offer ; and the gaiety anil the pageantry of Goldoni and of Carpaccio seem to be renewed, and the lovely ladies and the gay gallants of liosalba and of Longhi seem to live again in them. For the most part they are, unhappily, abandoned to neglect, decay and silence; but in hers the animation, the brilliancy, and the courtliness which her society brought thither were worthy of the traditions of Catarina Corner, the adored and adorable who once had held her court there. Guilderoy was little in the city, much at the villa, and the days were long and fight and sensuous and soft as the music of Gretry, which had used to echo over those waters and down those marble colonnades in the days of Madame Cattina. One of the most potent seductions of Beatrice Soria lay in the forms ot hf-iwith which ehe surrounded herself. The atmosphere in which a woman lives stimulates or kills love for her as much as does her person or her mind. Even one who is not beautiful derives a certain reflection of beauty from beautiful surroundings ; and where she has ever about her pleasure, grace, and gaiety, she will have in them strong auxiliaries to charm and retain those whom she desires to please. The varied and brilliant existence which she created by her magnificent modes of iiving and her unusual wit, made her houses wholly unlike any other. "You alone know how to live!" some one said to her once; and she thought ßadly, "YesL I know how to live; it is much, no doubt, but how to exercise that spirit of dissatisfaction, which dulld all

sooner or later would be more how how? It has perplexed and bafßed every voluptuary and every artist since tho world began !" She interrogated in vain the shades of the great pleasure-seekers and the glad lovers who had passed down those marble staircases and under those canopies of treilised vine before her in the days that were dead. Sulle rive d'Adria bella. Men had always been her playthings; she had done whatever she had chosen with them; but she had always for them that indolent, indulgent, and vet, at times, impatient derision with which a woman of high intelligence and profound passions is apt to regard both her lovers and her friends. And in her, now, besides this, was a vague, slight very vague, very slight sense of disappointment. Was it because she failed to feel those intensifies of emotion which she had felt before? Was it because no one summer is like another? Was it because the mind and nature change with time, and what is delightful and exquisite in one season cannot wholly content them in another. Or was it because the passions are such subtle, self-willed and mysterious agents of our being that that they resist the appeal to them to build in last year's nests? She could not tell; all the penetration and intuition of her intelligence and experience did not suffice to explain to her why this vagne, faint sense of disappointment followed on the renewal of her romance. It was no fault of his. He was the most devoted and tho most tender of lovers. It was perhaps that her memory and her imagination had expected more than it was humanly possible for any love to give from their reunion; or perhaps ' she unconsciously missed the stimulant of that desire to regain his atfections which had moved all her strongest feelings -ince his marriage. She had nothing more left to wish for; in the full, rich, and pampered life of Beatrice Soria that fact was almost a loss in itself. She felt for him tenderly and with warmth indeed; but it was not the Fame feeling as had subjugated all her soul and her senses in the lirst days of its ascendency. 'Terhaps I grow old, and so indifferent," she thought; but then she looked in her mirror and smiled, and knew that it was not that. Was it then the inevitable reaction of expectations too great lor finite human passions to fulfill them? Was it that the lost music bad seemed so sweet in its remembrance that no strain of it, heard now, could ever seem to equal it in melody? "I loved him better when ho was not mine," she thought sometimes, with the saddest consciousness that can ever visit love. Alas! it is not an infrequent visitant. Coming down the Grand canal one early forenoon, when the pressure of gondolas there was greater than usual owing to some church festival, his own was jostled between two others and had to pause in its outward voyage while the rival rowers exchanged the usual maledictions with uplifted oars and infinite variety of florid oaths. He heard his own name nnokn by one of the two men who were sketching in a gondola tied to one of the piles before a watergate. They were making drawings of all that is left "of the Ealier palace, and of its little garden court and wooden wickt't; they were painters well known in the artistic world of London, and they recognized him as he passed. "Where is his wife, do you know?" said one of them. "She was a lovely creature. You remember Eeighton's portrait of her three years ago?" "She is always living alone in a little house on the Beä-coast, I believe," replied the other. "Separated, then?" "Yes, virtually. Lord Aubrey consoles her, I believe. Some people say that he always did." "Aubrey? The minister?" "The man who was minister in the last administration yes. There is only one. He is this man's cousin." "The relationship gave him opportunities. I suppose?" The other artist laucrhed ; and they both went on with the drawing of the little accacia tree by the green gate of the court of the palazzo. Guild Toy felt a strange emotion as his gondola, extricated, passed on its way toward the Lido. There was no truth, he knew, in this foolish gossipinor; and yet it wounded, oifended and irritated him. As he passed outward on his way towards the lagoon, lying back on his black cushions, bo could not shake oif the rough unpleasant impression of the words which lie had overheard. Was that how they were talking of him in England? Such a possibility had never come into bis thoughts before. Ho had actually and morally set his wife as free as though'his death had released lier from him. He did not believe that Aubrey had as yet become her lover, but he suddenly realized that it was a possibility which was more than possible. It did not lind him indifferent. It touched that sensitive nerve in him which men call honor for want of a clearer name for it, although it is in truth rather personal pride and love of dignity than honor. It suddenly waked the image of Gladys from that dim forgotten past into which it had retreated, and restored her to a place, not in his heart indeed, but in his memories and in his susceptibilities. She had seemed to him scarcely more than a shade, as she had last appeared before him in the ghastly and pallid hues of the dreamlike chambers of his Neapolitan palace; an avenging shape arisen to reproach him and to curse him. Iiut now she iK'came more than this; he realized that she was a living woman of breathing life and motion, who had it in her power, if she chose, to return him the harm that lie had done her by a vengeance which would touch him to the quick and humble him in the eyes of all men. And why should she not do it? If 6he did, could he honestly blame her? 1 le knew he could not. Why should he demand from a young and lonely woman a force of self-control of which his own strength and manhood had been incapable? The consciousness oppressed and haunted him with a vague dread. He remembered the warning Aubrev had given him. At Iblen peccat. Had his cousin meant to give him in it a personal and not a general advertisement of impending possible ill? Had Aubrey, with his habitual candor, meant to sav to him, "What vou do not care to guard 1 shall consider that I am at liberty to approach as I may choose V He knew the loyalty and frankness of his cousin's character ; it would, he knew, be very like hiinthat on the eve of a prohibited attachment be should frankly endeavor to warn and place on his defense the man whoso honor would be involved. It was a beautiful afternoon as his boatmen took him, a tew hours later, up the Brenta water, through the sparkling sunshine. The leaves were yellow on tho poplars, and the trees looked made of gold. Tho wide green meadows were bathed in light. The thatch roofs of the

cottages looked like the brown nets of big birds amongst the ever-flowing foliage, llusre barges and Hat-bottomed boats, with f tainted sails, leaning motionless on tho azy air, passed him ladijn with grapes and gourds, amber pears and rosy-checked apples. The far hills were sweet and fair with all the colors of the opal and the amethyst in them. But the beauty of the scene was lost on him. He was thinking ever of the A7Z Helen per rat. When he reached the water-stairs of the villa, with steps of marble shelving down into the bulrushes and yellowing waterlily leaves, the day had "grown dark. It was the hour of reunion in the great central hall with columns and sculptures of Sansovino and a domed ceiling where frescoes of Tiepolo's were lost in the immense height of the vault. Its owner was accustomed to gather her guests about her there before dinner in the autumn evenings, when the great olive and oak logs burning on the enormous hearth under its porphyrv caryatides had a welcome warmth as fhe cold vapors of night succeeded to the warm sunshine of the passed day. He felt out of mood for that gay circle; for once, when he had changed his clothes and joined it, the brilliant gathering, where the men had the wit of Carlo Gozzi and the women the beauty ot Teresa Venier, jarred upon him in its brilliancy and mirth. "You have taken a chill on the water," some-one said to him. He answered absently, "No yes perhaps." . Much later in the evening Beatrice Soria her.-elf noticed his preoccupation. "You have heard something which displeased you of your wife." she mused, for her quick intuition let her read the souls of men, even in their secrecies, like open books. She had taken means to inform herself of the manner in which Gladys had chosen to live, though her name had never once been mentioned between them. To Beatrice Soria she was a woman beaten, forsaken, indifferent, insignificant; she pitied her and never spoke of her. But, she mused, it was so like a man because he bad deserted her to think of her, even to think of her regretfully! Men were such children ; such weak, wayward, fearful children as she had said once on the banks of the Thames to Aubrey always wanting that which they have not; always regretting their own actions when it is too late to efface them, always puttingthe blame on Fate which is dueto their own folly, caprice or instability! It is always "The woman tempted me and I did eat," in the wilderness of the world as in the Garden of Eden. "You are ill at ease, and out of spirits," she said as he passed him. "Do not look so; people will say that I tyrannize over you; nothing is more absurd than that." "I cannot tutor my looks," he answered, w ith impatience. "Perhaps I am not well. I do not know." They were unobserved for a moment; others were dancing. He looked at her with an imploring gaze. "You do love me?" he added. "Tell mo again." "What a child you are!" she saM with a smile. "What is" the use of saying what is proved ?" "But is it proved?" ' "What can you possibly mean ?'' "1 mean, in this gorgeous life of yours, flattered, amused and adored as you are, what room is there for any great or exclusive feeling?" "It seems to me, my friend, that it is very late for that doubt to come to you." "i'erhaps I am jealous. You have so many A bo love you, and you are too indulgent with them." "Do not become OthrUo because we are in the Yeneto. It will not suit you in any way, Your love has always been galanterie." "Not alwavs." "Yes, always. I think, at heart." "That is cruelly unjust. What greater evidence " Coldness and anger came into her eyes. "Do not remind me of your sacrifices. It is very bad tate." "Sacrifices! Who spoke of sacrifices? I simply meant, what more could any man do" than 1 have done?" "I do not know, my dear, that it was so very much that you did. You were tired of your English wife ; what we are tired of it does not cost much to renounce, and some people do say that it was rather your wife who renounced vou than you your wife." "That is utterly untre." ''It may be," said Beatrice Soria with a gesture of entire indifierence. "I suppose you quarreled. We will not quarrel, my dear; it is the sorriest and the meanest grave that love can ever find." She passed her hand lightly over his hair as she spoke, with something which was compassionate and mournful in the lingering caress. "Now go and join those dancers and look happv. I cannot have my people think I make you otherwise than happy. In truth, you will never be happy very long, for you are life's spoilt child." He kissed with passionate fervor the whiteness of her arm as it was near his lips. "You have made me as happy as a god this whole long year!" "Then it should seem a very short year to vou !" she said with her low sweet smife, and left him to join her guests. His eyes followed her with worship. Alone for her had he ever approached that strength and constancy of passion which is the love of the poets. It was foreign to his temperament, and ill akin to all his inconstant habits, but it had been illumined in him for her. A vague and painful sense perpetually haunted him that though he again possessed her he did not again possess her soul ; that though he had renewed his position toward her, he was powerless to regain over her that vital ascendency which he had once owned and had wantonly thrown away; and this doubt increased the influence she had upon him by the perpetual consciousness which he felt of uncertainty and inequality. When he had had power to make her absolute wretchedness, to be her arbiter of fate, to cause her tortures bv a day's absence, by a month's silence, by a careless homage taken elsewhere, he had been indifferent to his power and often also too indifferent to her pain. But now their positions were reversed; be did not feel for an instant that he was vitally necessary to her; lie did not feel that she was life and death to him and mistress in the Uttermost Bense of all his fate. ( To be continued next week.) Better Left Unnaitl. prime.) Mamie "I visited Prof. Gilhooly this afternoon, and he said my head was full of non6ense." Jack (sceptically -'Tshaw, I doa't believe there ii anything in it"

Crude, Hut E.Tectlre. IPuckd Tommy "Are yon going to send teacher a valpntiner" Johnnie "Naw. I'm after a piece of chalk to draw it on the fence."

PRICES OF SCHOOL BOOKS.

VAN ANTWERP, BRAGG t CO.'S LISTS. The Figures at tVhlch They Agree to Supply Their Publication Vary Greatly la Different Counties A Table Worthy of Careful Study. There ure a good many things aHout this school-book business which the people do not understand. For instance, take the matter of prices. The trust has a t.cale ot adoption prices, and exchange prices. When the school boards adopt a series of test books it is agreed that they bhall be furnished at a certain schedule of prices. This is really a matter of eontract between the school-book trust (through the particular firm which is supplying the books) and the board. In a lartre number of instances, however perhaps a majority parents Cud themselves nl.liuod to pay thj booksellers a pood deal higher prices than the contract between the school hoard and the publishers calls for. TllK Sentiskl has compiled a table ehowincr the price at which Van Antwerp. Hra A Co. have nned that their books shall be Fold in the various ; counties of Indiana. The books referred to in the table are "MctJuffey's Headers" and "Spellers." 'Itay's Arithmetics," "White's Arithmetics," "Harvey's Grammars," and the Eclectic geog m i.iu'kv is i:itm:iis. ks ami w's I ! "3 : Ail:i ins I All. n Harttiolomew..' J. nton I Hlactford j Ivione j Brown Carroll- 1 ....I.. i;! 15,

C0V5TIES.

' 42 v rn 7) l oj I l 2 1 .... 42 . i . :c. .v i 4 t". I " l -" f. . 17 4u, &ü so, r M . ; ' i ;.-. l u 70 ; 13 1 i ; ö ;:. ; ;vi j. . l 2" i : : ' CT .Vi ' ' 42 1 '" I '"12" ' 7'". 21 4- f" M ' ; ' f.n 7" I 1 2"h -" l -" 1 ) 2 50 t'rfi I. S5 00 '. . 4". 73 '. 1 0. j eil 2" ' 2l ! ' 42' 7". ! ' 1 10 1 42 5 72 ' .V, ( '..I ; 42 f." 1 I" I .V, I H 7" 17 42 M, 72 : C" 42 6--i ." 1 Ii I :'-i - i 17 50 Gil K" 50 7.' 1 5J 7,' 1 1j ' 7". 1 5-J 1 71 ( & ' 1 co 1 1 t,ii ! : . 4". tw K) ei ...... ...... : ' ; i oj i; p i 2 1 1 4L "2a V) " Jht ' ' W i 50 f-j 7n 1 2-'. 7 M Ki ; 41 C 7.', 117 41 1 3- I 7n ; CO 5" " k'i . ' b" 7" So 7" ; 7?; 21 55' f, t i 4' Vi i Si; ,1 21 1 2 . 20 So; CO K t-i ' i , 7" ! V. 1 :.0 l's'j ' ', 21 . . f., . 1 ..... 3" 42 50 J 21 5 ." 42 "54 to S4 M ('"s:. 120 , 50 1

ao; -'0 2d1 i. 17 17: 2"! 20' I "6 -'S. 2 L"V 2rt 20; .5. so .IV z. '.VIST S"! 3T V't 35 Ca Clarke Clay Clinton.... Crawford.. Paries.... Iiearborn., ler-atur.... IvKalb... IM.iwan i 1 uliois Klkhart Kavette Floyd Fountain I ranklin Fulton. iibon (rant ireene Hamilton Haneoc k IIarrion Hendricks Henry Howard Huntington ... Jackson J3.per .lay Jeitete n Jennings .Tohntou Knox Koseiusoo lracge Lake . Tjilrte ... Iawrenre. Malison Marion Marshall Martin Miami Monroe Montgomery... Monjao Newton Noble Ohio Own Orance - I'arke Perry I'ike Porter IVev Pulaikl Putnam Handolph Hipley Hush .. hcott .. Shelby spencer Starke... Stenn n..: rt. Joseph Sullivan Switzerland. . Tippccauoe Tipton Union Vanderbnix. ... Vermillion.-... Vi en... Wabash Warren Warrick Walunton. ... Wavne Well White Iii tier 20! 31 50j 5' i, 5Ui' 60 S6 I 41 20 2oi 20 2.J. in a.-, to' Si ' I w I ! I i- . " ; f.!l !. 50 ci . tin -". i 4 4-: 20! 3-V M I... .... 4o .o i... 5 40 17l 30 .D.3. '2Öi""sÖ ' '42;"'r."o! 42 5-"' ".vi '.vi f.". f,o, 'to to'!... ... j 21 si 31 4-V f.O 5ol ri 20! 31 , ...I I ' ii:"'rio r i 40, 42! 20, 20i to 3- ; to. 5 i Cu ' 6 t .....c CJ. I.. "ji " .1... a-""'! . to1 .Ml VM r. i "! 60 81 I 4r oo i s.1 to ! 20! 2.1; 2"i "Jo Jo 20. 20. 31 :5 to to' 35; 41, 5ll ' So1 Co vT. .'0 i s" .Vi :' ' GO .. .V. t'.M 5o 41. V 50 Co 1 20 Joi 2'-; 2T Mi 1" 31 SO 5o VI r.o 41 41 50. 5V i ".vi ' VI Co, iO .11! 4 l .... ! . 41 " : to : M ! M 40 to 4li CO to r," ' i 50 Cm 65 "fii to 31 31 30' 5o. 75 . (' to . 70 1 0" . ti t to I 71 1 . 2t to; 30 i i ! 20, 31 21 4i. 2o to, 41 45; to 4n 65

2o 35 41 1.0' 71 31. ;o : ! 41; 71 1 1 un 20 to! 5oj 6 ii to ! 45! to j S i; N. ' 120 20' JiT So! t;o' S5 1 ; 0 l 75 i .v. 71 17 3o. 42 50 72 1 ' ' i 42' T, ." 15 2" 5V 42 i ; 42 i j 51 : M 2nj to( 5'V 0i'( 5 i ; ..... i ' 1 2" 25 4V 50 " "to" I. ."55 '.'.'.'.'.'. '".5 V'si 20; 3 5'V CO1 SI ' 41 71 5 1 71, 12' 20: to' 45. 51' to I 41 00' ' ! 5.. 1 to ll,i 2V 40' fi i 75. !' 1 1 -, sr, . ,v, jO , 1 J5 2'i to' Ml; inj to 1 t;i t ; 75 ! 20. 35, 50 CO to 1 ' 45 75 ' 1 ' ....I I ' I ' ! 00 ' ' 1 75 ' 25 35. 51 f.0' S5 t 4.,; 75 j 5 . "l 15 Jo1 to 45 f.O-. 75 1 45 Vi ' ' Vi 7",

A TEACHER EXPLAINS The Reason So Fevr Teachers Antagonize the Hook Trust. To THE Editor Sir: "Are they afraid?" Yes! Ami good reasons they have, too. The same reasons for fear that "Ami Book Trut" hns for his non de plume. If you are not afraiJ, "Anti," give us your real name. The leading teachers are afraid because tho goal of their ambition is to be county superintendent, which can never be attained w ith the opposition of the book trust. Because the frhrcwtlVst are expecting to make some "change" for aiding in the next "book exchange." lecaue the trustee is monarch of all he purveys and will not employ teachers who will scrutinize his acts too closely. Because the county superintendent can withhohl his license or cut his per cent or ruin his reputation abroad by private word to the officers over the way. Because he can be injured in a hundred ways, and be continually annoyed and have no way to retaliate or defend himself. Because he is forced to do 10 many thincs contrary to his better judgment, that he is like the boy who fell into the soap, "Don't know where he hurts the worst." Afraid to say anything about it for fear he'll be licked for wasting the soap. We teachers know more about this book business than would be believed, if we frhouhl tell it. The parents and euardians are the real suilerers. Let ttietn do the spjealing. They're the majority. We teachers are the minority and have other grievances that strike us harder than the book monopoly. When we're relieved of our burdens, then we will feel like assisting parents ia their endeavor to lighten theirs. We know that books are costing twice or thrice their real value; that 23 per cent, of nonattendance is caused by the inability of poor people to buy books, and their havinsr too much hmest pri le to plead the pauper to the tniste. That a uniform system of free books would increase the attendance ami or work: It isn't every teacher that wants more work ; don't you see. Thomas J. Shively. Kdwardsport, Ind., Feb. 12. Ilonfleld Itesign. Chicago, Feb. 13 roli? Inspector John BonfieKl.Vho is under auspcnMon pending inret ;(.-ati in of his alleged malfeasance of office, tendered his written resignation to-day. Mr. Bonneld- says the department rules forbid an officer engaging in anv Other business while a niemlrof the force, an l that as his circumstances make it nece sarjr fur him to continue earning a livelihood, his resignation is iiupera'.iTe, to take etlbct forthwith. Annie Iledniond's Abductors. Chicago, Feb. 12. Harrey Gurley and his wife Josephine were arraigned in a police court this morning, charged with the abdnction of little Annie Kedroond, whose Identity was discovered and who i restored to her patents a few davi ago. Mrs. Gurley waived examination and was held in bail to await the action of the grand jury. Mr. Gurley demanded a trial and the bearing occupied the eu tire day. They Remember the Police. New Tor-, Feb. IX The directors of th Broadway and Sovcnth-ave. railroad bare given tl.00 to tli police fund, in roeopcition of the services rn rtcrei by the police during Uio racaot itrlte.

raphies, histories and physiologies. It will b teen from the table that there is a creat difference in these contract prices, in hüerent counties. Thus, the price of First Headers is fixed at 15 cents in barthntoraew county, 17 in Allen, 110 in flay. LM in Vi'jo and in Scott; of Second Headers at Cieei ts in Fayette, ,7 in Alien, 35 in Honne and 40 in l elaware : ot Third readers at 35 cenis in I'nion county, 4) in Hmho.omew, 42 in Cass, 4- in Miami. ."iO in Yi-, in Delaware and 00 in Warrick; of Fourth Headers at 41 cents in L'nion, ,'a) in Allen, 55 ia Handolidi, 10 in rati t. in Yico, 70 in Scott, 7- s;id 7" in S'.ai-ke county; and of Filth Hea lers at .r c :ts in Fayette county, cents in l"n:on cm.r.ty, "-' in Clark. 75 ia Hipley, so in Greene, in Mnüison, Puin Dearborn and 1 in Seott. Fur intermediate aritb-nit-tics ( Hay's) lh" minimum 'nce is 21 cents in Fayette, and the maxiruiim, 50 cents ia Clay and a number of :hcr counties. Pra tical nr.'.limetics ra litre fr:u 4'J to 70 cents. The ti p price on White's intermediate arithmetic is o"i cents and tho bottom 3" cents, and on White's complete arithmetic the rantre is from 55 to 5 n't cents. And it goes through the entire series of text books. i'arents throughout the state know what prices they have iail (vr test books. Let them compare these prices with the priots named by Van Antwerp, braz & Co. for their county, and they will be liable to tind staitlint? iliscrepancies. Alii linnlly let Van Antwerp, l'.ra.'sr te Co. explaia if they can how it happens that they airree to supply some of their liooks in certain counties lor hah" of what they airree to s.ipply the same books ia other counties. Here are the liiTures:

aki. ii's .k'm hs'tov. ,!.". . piivmo shki.LE l 2i : to i4i 2' "2Ü 2i 20 21 20 "2J "2Ü 2'1 21 17 20 "20 ik 23 "s'l 2 20 21 "2i 21 41 l 2: ........ 'i "l'ö ....... 1 2. 1 -l"i'o'i I .I i T.7, i I 1 00 , 1 25 '. t,i 1 25 . .. 1 :- m i .vi j C il 3'1 52 j "'Vi 1 "Vi .'!!!!:!. 55 1 1" ! to 1 31 :.. " 51 "'&'' i" s " "to i "Ki '. cr, 1 40 j 70 1 4.1 I 1 1. 65 1 3'i;. .. . ; j " Vi ...... i V) : 70 1 4 .'. 71 1 4 ' ' ...... 12". 1 to'! Si 7- I ci I 1 21 , 4". 4'), ,i. .It, 71 ' 5n 71 1 41 42. 71! S.J, ci 1 Oo j i j i , 1. 1 41 i-.' to 70 1 ii!. Nl !. I ; I. ?.'E3 1 111 I 1 21 12'' l to I 1 0 1 ....;, 4Y 71 j iW. ...J1 j M i ' 4ll "to " "c- 'i ' ..... : 4" ";' 70 1 21 1 j 71 1 to 1 So i. 71 i so i 5' 1 2 ' .". I 21 1 V5 ; -. 1 to '. f. I to . 75 1 So I

71 ; 20 r- ' C CO I 29 lOo j ' 2J 7 0 i " "21 7o ; f To ; eo 75 : 2i) . : 17 75 ; 21 1 to 2 l ' 21 ) 21 1 Ol 21 f-t ' IT " ; 15 Cd ; 20 T-" is ; iS '! 21 VI ' vi

1 1" 1 21 1 vs 1 Ki ....'I ....' 5o ' ;i 1 to I 1 1.-. r 1 15 . T21 l.o! 1 21 : 1 3.1 ' 'i 'to ' 1 2". 1 1 M . Nf I 5 1 'i 5.' t)o I 4". . ..... I 50 4 i .... j 5 I ..... '; 51' .... I 4"i .... , 5V "' ' 41 Jo 7i ' Ol I 31 5o 1 I ; : to i i 1 :! 1 55 1 20 to . to 1 5' , (Jo 1 C" ' "75 12 1 . 71 1 to" . 7 16, . ; 1 ;, ' i ". I 25 1 51 t, . 1 Jo 55 1 2.1 ' 40 I t' C 1 25 ; I 75 i'4 ' er, 1 4 1 ; 1 31 ': 71 1 4' '. - 1 2". ' 70 1 to tv. 1 r. : '5 1 3'' 1 So '. to S'l to TWO VERY GHASTLY FINDS. Ttie Mutilatrtl Remain of t Woman round in a Chicago Street. Chicago, Feb. 1,1. On llutterfield-st., between Twenty-third and Twenty-fodrth-sts irj a section of the city w liich is unpaved, a couple ot policemen this morning found in the m:dd! of the road a barrel that had evidently falle a offa wagon & n:ie time during the niht. On examination they found it contained th mutihited remains of a woman in an advanced stage of dt composition. The feet had beer Bevered from the body. In an old bloody apron or shawl were the viscera. The Ion? hair of the woman was matted with blood rJot and lay in confusion over the trunkless head. The trunk was all chopped into pieces. The frnemerts were taken to the morgue. When the remains w-re removed from the monrue, a card dropped out upon which waj written: "Lina Bucha r.ocivcd in ward n, eourty bo pital, Nov. 2n, lSv. iii. il Jan. 1, ls9." At the hospital it was learned that the body had been given to one of the medical colleges. The fragments, after dissection, doubtless either dropped oil' the wairon w hile being taken out of the city for burial or were deposited there by the expressman to tave himself the trouble of carting them awav. A SERIOUS WRECK. A Freight and Pavneiiger Train Crash To Bether With Serious lteultn. (lAIXsDrr.Cr, 111., Feb. 13. There was a serious wreck to-night on the C, P. fc Q. at St. Au gustine, a small station south of here. Expresa train No. 1", which leaves here for Kansas City at 8 o'clock bad passed through St. Augustine at the usual speed, and just as it was passing over the last switch, freight train No. IS came in sight. Doth trains were poing so fast that they could not 6top, and they came together with a cra-h, completely wrecking them. The engineers and firemen of both trains jumped, and thus escaped unhurt. Hie b.igage-car and express-car-i of the passenger train were piled uji in a benp, and the express messenger, a man named Whifiin. of Chicago, was instantly killed. Tlie conductor of the freight, nameil I5rownson, of this city, was hurt, as was als the forward brakeman of the passenger train. A special trein, with physicians, was sent to the wreck. WliiSin's body was sent to his home in Chicago, w here, it is understood, he leaves a family. The c-iue of the accident in attributed, to the freight train running on too short time. Civil Service Reformers. BALTivr.rr. Md., Feb. IX The Civil Serrice Eefonn aociation of Maryland has extended a call to reformers in various rirts of the Unite! States to attend a conference in thia city on Fei. 25. There will be a gn rnl dirtnirn as lo the j.o'icy of civil nervi'- reform a vocation. Tiice I two set Spelles " hl ha been accomplished br civjl service reform du rin? ih dm iriivtralion of !residpnt Cleveland" and "What may he hoiked and einectJ from the incoming administration." The relonuert state th-ir obiect with reference to the a rim in ist ration of Mr. ilsrri.in Is to have retained aa Biaaj etfidcut oice-liolvitM aa pot. Lio.