Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 4 April 1894 — Page 11

THE -INDIANA . STATE SENTINEL. TTETCffiSIUY MORNING, APRIL 4, 1691--T WELTE PAGES.

11

THE BURGOMASTER VANTROON.

' Chapter I. It wm a ii.mal evening In early October, with a cold rain falling:, and llttlw errant gusts of wind blowing: now from cm point of the compass and now from another. The lamplighters had started on their rounds, and the main London thoroughfares -wer beginning to outline themselves in points of yellow flame. For the last diy or two nearly every train had brought bark , holiday-makers by the hundred. "Presently the huK pendulum of worka'day London would be once more In full swing. Everything spoke of he death of summer. In nowi5H out of keeping with the cheerless evening looked Edgar Fairclougrh. as, with gloomy I rows, and hands buried deep in the pockets of his kwinging-jackt. he slowly paced the drawing-room of the. pretty littl flat occupied by himself and his wife In Pendragron square. S. V. The lamp had not been lighted: the grate as yet wan innocent of Its firpt autumnal fire; the windows were blurred with raindrops. The dreariness outdoors was matched lay the dreariness within. But even had the time been the most brilliant of autumn eveninps. and the scene one of those from which he had lately returned. Edgar Fairclou gh, had 'that within" which might well furnish food for despondency of the deepest, lie had just got back, several days hefore his holiday was at ah end. from the south f Frame, where he had left behind him. In th pocket bonk of C'apt. Verschoyle, a little docunu-nt in which he acknowledged his indebtedness to that gentleman in the sum of "". The ncrap of pajer in cni'stim represented the amount of his losses at the gamingtables, loss his own ready money. which had been the- first to bo swept tip by the croupier's rake. Hut f. r the cursed chance which had brought Verschoyle across his path, he should perforce have fled the scene of his temptation the moment his own iH-kets were empty; but. ala.! he had not lieen strong-minded enough to refuse the captain's pressing offer of a loan, coupled as it was with the comforting assurance that, if he only porsovered long enough, his luck would be sure to turn. Well, he had persevered, the captain cheerfully backing him up with ore loan after another, till the sunt total reached the am Hint rained: but the luck had never turned, or only spasmodically and just sufficiently to tempt hint still further on the downward path. Then, one evening, in the solitude of ri bed-room. Fairclough had taken a jjoleinn oath thst he would go near the tables no more. The captain had seen him off next morning by train, bis lat words being: "1 sha'n't be long aftrr you. dear boy. I'll drop you a line as soon as I arrive jn town, and you can look ine up at the f'orinthi-m." Fainiough had understood iiite well what looking up She captain at his club meant. On the very first oc.ision of their meeting the latter would look to 3.1m to redeem his I O I. Should h? by eny chance fail to do so. he knew that before he was a dozen hours older the ptory of his defection would have been whispered in a dozen ears. Verschoyle, e he was well aware, was one of those mn who look for no quarter in the battle of life, and who are careful to give none when the advantage rests with thm. 1-Mgar Fair.ioujr'a was a civil-service clerk on a salary of a year, which Income wa supplemented to the extent of ;!im more by Mr. Titus T?e:igough, a retired merchant, and hjs uncle on his mother's side. I!c had been ni irriöd four years, and this was the Slrst time since that event thjt he had gone far his annual leave without taking his wife with him. Tiara had gone c! own to Devonshire to help to nurse a sick sifter, and he had been under the compulsion to take his holiday alone, with what result we have already seen, for there could be no doubt that, had his wife een with him. he would not have gone within miles of Monte Carlo. His marriage had not, perhaps, been a very prudent one from a worldly point of view, for he came of a g od stock on his father's side, and all his friends had said that he ought to have looked higher, which, put in other words, meant that he ought to have married somebody with a good deal more money than the fl.'il. which was all that Clara Ienlson. the orphan daughter of a country rector, had brought for dowry. But they had loved each other, and that of itself had seemed an all-sufficient reason for uniting themselves in the tonct3 of matrimony, nor had they yet reen cause to regret their temerity in so doing. Uncle Titus had stuck to them all through like the 'brlk" his nephew vouched him to be, and his money it had been which had gone far toward furnishing the flat in Fendragon square. Clara's l,of0. when she married, had been left Intact in the bank, where it had been accumulating at interest since her father's death. There had ben a sort of ta it understanding between the young pfople that it should be reserved as something against a possible rainy day as a provision against one or other of those unforseen enntingencies from which not even the most fortunate of us can claim to be exempt. But we know whft often befalls the best laid plans f.f mice and men. At the end of four years a balance of 70 was all that remained to the credit of Mrs. Fairtiough. the fact being that from the first the young couple had lived considerably beyond their means, and. as a consequence, had been under the necessity of drawing on the rest-egg from time to time in order to wipe off certain accumulations of outstanding debts. At length, however, they had begun to realize the folly of which they had been guilty, and only a few days before Fairclough set out on his holiday he and his wife had sat in committee, and had then and there drawn up a scheme of retrenchment which they bad premised themselves in all sincerity that they would begin to put Into practice from the day of their return to Pendragon square. Then Fairclough had started for his scamper on the continent, and If his purse was light, his heart was no less so; and then that terrible thing had happened, the result of which his own insensate 'folly, which had brought him horn before his time, and now found him desperate and alone in the chill October dusk, with the demon of suicide lurking, a baleful shadow, in some inner chamber of his brain. Had his debt to Capt. Verschoyle been cf any other nature than that which it was, jie might, perhaps, have summoned up courage to go to his uncle, lay hi caee before him and appeal to him for help; but that he should do so under present circumstances was wholly out of the question. A debt which was the result of almost any other kind of folly he might have been persuaded to cm done, but a gambling debt, never. The fact was that FaJreloi'Sh'f f.lthc r ha.il been an Incorrigible spendthrift and gamester and had died miserably. Kver since he could remember had this terrible example been held up to Edgar as a warning by his uncle, and it had been Impressed upon him again and yet again that In order Irrevocably to snap the fie between them he had but to take the first step on that pleasant but fatal road which had led his father to destruction. By and by the housemaid, who had been vainly waiting for her master to ring, ventured, of her own accord, to bring in a lighted lamp, and therewith Fairclough's cogitations for the time being came to an end. By that the bitter truth had forced itself on him that there was one way, and one only, of extrication from the impasse In which he had landed himself. He must break tin the pretty -home where he had been so happy, eil his furniture to the highest bidder, and settle down with his wife in

pome cheap suburban lodging. By tho?e means, and the practice of rigid economy, he ought to be able in the course rjf a couple of years to clear off his debt to Verschoyle to the last shilling. But that would by no means stop the la tier's tongue; indeed, he would have just cause for complaint at having to wait so long for the fln.il settlement of a debt which had ben vntracted on the tacit understanding that it would be paid in full in the course of a few weeks at the most. ?f course, for Verschoyle to blurt out the truth about the affair, as he undoubtedly would, practically meant social extinction for Fairclough and his wife. Most of us have our own little world of friends and acquaintances, a circle, however restricted. In which socially we live and move and have our being, and to be ostracized from that circle, however low the value may be at which we rate its privileges, can never b.- other than 'a painful process. He rr and crossed to the window, and peered out Into the deepening gloom. He could se by the unbroken reflection of the lamplight on the wet roadway, that the rain had ceased. lie did not expect his wife home for a couple of days. and. lack'.ng her presence, the place was intolerable. He would dress and go down to his club as yet there was no fear of his coming across Verschoyle and dine there. Not much longer would he be privileged to do so. He proceeded leisurely with his dressing. He had reached that frame of mind when to have settled on a definite plan of action, and . to have sternly forced one's self to ronfront the worst that can happen, comes ps a positive relief to the state of mental torture one has had to go through before arriving at it. He was in the act of manipulating his white tie when a certain fact , flashed across his memory "which, till that instant, he had absolutely, biit most unaccountably, forgotten. For a few seconds the color faded from his face, and he sat down oil the nearest chair to recover himself. "While he had been worrying himself almost to the verge of suicide, there had lain all the time close to his hand the means which would enable him to meet Verschovle with a smiling face and redeem his I O l What an idiot he must have been not to have called to mind before that his wife's diamond necklace was locked up in the safe in the bedroom, as it had been from the day he and Clara set up housekeeping in Pendragonsquare! The necklace in question hail been the gift of Clara's godfather. Maj. Stainforth, on her twenty-first birthday. There had been no stipulation attached to the present, but merely a request that the necklace should not be disposed of except under the pressure of necessity. It having originally belonged to the donor's mother, and so valued by him accordingly. To Clara such a reguest had all the force of a command: but her husband was inclined now and then to grumble a little at. the uselessness of th gift. They were in a measure debarred from finding a customer for it and adding the proceeds of its sale to their modest banking account; while for a person in his wife's position to have de.-ked herself out in an article which a countess might have been proud to wear would have merely served to excite envy and provoke invidious comments among the circle of here acquaintance. Besides although the stones which composed the necklace were of the first water, the setting was altogether rococo and out of date. Thre, then. In its velvet-lined case in the small safe built into the bodroom wall by a previous occupant of the Hat the necklace had reposed for the past four years, seldom looked at and rarely thought about. No one knew- of its presence there except the two people concerned; consequently, they had no fears as to its safety. What Fairclough now proposed to himself was. not to sell it in ioint of fact, it was not his to dispose of but to pawn it for the exact sum in which he was indebted to Verschoyle. He would tell Clara immediately on her return what he had done, and although the confession would bo a painful one, and one which would inevitably lower him somewhat in her eyes explain to her the dire compulsion under which he had acted. Tiiat she would shed some tears h" did not doubt, but at the same time he felt assured that he could count on her forgiveness. The mental reaction was so complete and overwhelming that presently he caught himself laughing aloud as inanely as he might have done had he partaken of too much w ine. Then it struck him that it might be as well to make himself absolutely sure of the presence of the necklace. There were two keys to the safe, of which his wife held one, and he the other. A minute later the necklace was in his hands, scintillating and flashing back' a many-colored radiance as he held it up in the lamplight. He gave r great sigh of satisfaction as lie replaced it in the safe. That night the first time for many nights Edgar Fairclough slept as soundly as a man who has not a care in the world. The clocks were striking 11 next morning a? he discharged the hansom which had brought him from Pendragon square. After walking a little way farther along the Strand. he turned down one of those side streets leading to the etnliankment, which at that hour of tha day are comparatively deserted. Thon presently, after a quick precautionary glance round, he dived Into a narrow semi-dark passage, and pushing ofen at random the first door he came to. found himself in one of those mysterious boxes the like of which are to be met with at one class of establishment only. It was not the first time he had been engaged on a like errand. More than once in his salad days he had "outrun the constable." and been driven to negotiate a temporary advance on some of hi; portable belongs; but all such transactions had been of trifling account in comparison with the one on which he was now engaged. He knew that It would have been useless for him to attempt to lx rrow the sum he was in need of from any of the ordinary class of pawn brokers, and he had accordingly brought the necklace to one of the well-known establishments of Messrs. Lippmann, who may be termed the Rothschilds of their peculiar business. Extracting the morocco Jewelease from the breast pocket of his coat, Fairclough pushed it across the counter to the gentlemanly looking assistant on the otht r side. "How much?" queried the latter, in the blandest of tones as his ringers closed over the case. "Slx-lifly." responded Fairclough In a voice which he scarcely recognized for his own. The assistant opened the case, took out the necklace, and carried It away with him beyond the other's limitvd range cf view. He was away so long that Fairclough began to lidget with lmiKttience. Ai length he cam- back, and bending over the counter, said with a sort of mystery In his tone: "Did I understand you to say, sir, that you required an advance of 650 on the necklace?" "That Is the sum I asked." ' "In that case, sir, you can hardly be aware that the stones which compose the necklace are nothing: but paste."

Clittptc-r II. so dumfounded was Fairclough that for a few moments he could do nothing but stare at the assistant like a man whose faculties have been suddenly paralysed. "Paster at length he gasped. "It Is Impossible wholly Impossible." "No, sare; It is not Impossible it 1 a fact," said an elderly, keen-eyed man who came up at that moment, holding the neeklace between his thumb and Anger. ."These stones are simple articles de Pari nothing more, sare, I give you my word." "Put but." stammered Fairclough, "I had this very necklace valued by Fretln of Bond-st. only four years ago, when he offered to buy it of me for twelve thousand pounds." The cider man's shoulders went nearly

up to his ears. "Then all I can say. sare, is that Monsieur Frttln must have been out of his mind when he made you any such offer. Perhaps, sare, you will be still further surprised when I tell you that the setting of your necklace is as much an imitation as the stones themselves, n looks very pretty, but it la not gold." .- With that he replaced the necklace in Its case and pushed it back across the counter. As a mar in a dream. Fairclough put itln his pocket, and as a man still in a dream, he made his way back to Pendragon square Two hours later he telegraphed to his wife to return at once. By this time her sister was so far recovered that she could be left without danger. He met Clara at the terminus, but scarcely Mere their greetings over before Mrs. Fairclough, laying a hand on her husban.d's arm. said In a tone of alarm: "There's something the matter. Ted I can read it in your face. You have had pome bad news, perhaps, or else " She stoppeif abruptly, a sort of questioning terror in her eyes. "She Is afraid that I have found out about the necklace," he said to himself. Then aloud; "Whatever my. news is, I suppose it will keep till we get home." He spoke coldly, and not more than a dozen words passed between them till they reached Pendragon square. Since the discovers- at the pawnbroker's, Fairclough had been as one held in the grip of a hideous nightmare. As regarded his difficulty with Verschoyle, he was in precisely the same position a.s before; but, as If that were not burden enough for a man to bear, there was now superadded this intolerable mystery of his wife's necklace, which, the more he strove to unravel it, the darker became the possibilities which were thereby conjured up in his ndnd. A hundred times his heart had grown faint within him when he thought of what he might be fated to listen to when he and his wife met. "It Is about your necklace that I want to speak to you." he began, having waited till she had taken off her outdoor things and rejoined him in the drawingroom. "Ah!" she exclaimed with a little gasp. As soon as I set eyes on you my heart told me what it was you had to say. You have discovered " She caught her breath and pressed her hand to her side. Her lips had turned blue. Fairclough half rose from his chair, but restrained himself. "I have discovered." he said, "that your so-called diamond necklace is a sham and an Imposition, that its stones are paste, and that even its setting is not the gold It professfs to be. But what I have not discovered is the process by which the necklace, for which, four years ago, I was offered 1,200, has, In the. interim, been transformed into the worthless thing now locked up in the safe." "I. and I alone, am to blame." exclaimed the young wife, as she cast herself on her knees at her husband's feet. "I did it to save my brother!" "To save Frank! What has he done that necessitated his being saved by any one?" The story Mrs. Fairclough thereupon told may be summarized in a few sentences. Frank Denison was a clerk of several years' standing In a T..ondon bank. Some rash speculation on the stock exchange had resulted in saddling him with losses amounting in the aggregate to between 400 and "00. which he had no means whatever of meeting. It was a state of affairs which, had it come to the ears of his employers, would have involved his instant dismissal. In thi3 predicament he had appealed to his sister to allow him to raise a sufficient sum on her necklace to cover his losses. It was an appeal she found it impossible to resist, and the necklace was handed over to him. "It was your own to do as you liked with." said Fairclough. when his wife hid reached this oint of her confession. "But I still fail to understand why, when the genuine article was gone, it was thought requisite to put a sham one in its place." "Have you forgotten, dear, that my godfather, in his last letter, said that he should be in London some time In October, and that ne would not fail to look us up?" "I certainly had forgotten. So you had the sham necklace nv.ide in order to deceive the dear old boy?" "You did not let me finish." said Clara, with a shade of reproach in her voice. "It was Frank who had the sham necklace made without saying a word to me about it; and although he persuaded me to put It in the empty case and lock it up, and assured me my godfather would never detect the difference. I should never have attempted to palm it off on him as the real article. I had. in fact, long ag , made up my mind to tell him everything, should he ask. as he most likely would, to see the necklace." "You did not, however, think it worth while to take your husband into your confidence." "It is the first secret I have ever kept from you, and you will never know how many unhappy hours It has cost me. Many and many a time I was tempted to tell you. byt at the last moment my heart always failed me. You nave always set your face so sternly against gambling of every kind. I have so often heard you denounce it in the strongest possible terms, that J was afraid yiui would never forgive Frank for what he had done, and that you might even go so far as to forbid him the house, md insist upon my never speaking to him again." I'd gar Fairclough got up suddenly and crossed to the window, lie had his own confession still to make, and what a shameful one it was! He who with the recollection of his father's fate burned ineffaceably into his memory had, following his uncle's example, time and again Inveighed against gambling as against a juggling fiend whose one aim was the ruin of his victim, had himself fallen at the first touch of the tempter's fingers. How the thought made him loathe himself. Frank Denison's act of folly looked almost blameless by the side of his.' And he must confess everything to his wife; there was no getting out of that. Never could he be again in her eyes the preux chevalier she had hitherto believed him to be. He had lost caste. The Idol of gold had betrayed its feet of clay. Fairclough got through his confession somehow. There are episodes in the lives of most of us which we do not willingly dwell upon afterward, even in the privacy of our own thoughts, and of such was this with him. He spared himself In nothing, seeming, indeed, to take a sort of cynical pleasure in deepening the shadows of the picture more than was absolutely needful, ami wound up by saying that the only course left them was 'to sell their home and go Into some cheap lodging, where they would be unknown to every one. Clarr. had uttered no word while he was speaking; but when it became upparent that he had nothing more to say, she rose, and. corssing to where he stood by the window, put her arms alout his neck and drew his face down to hers. Let us thank Heaven, dearest, that It is no worst.-. It is 'only that our means will be straightened for a while, and that we shall have to give up a lot of things to which we have been used, but which we can really very well do without. Oh, there are many ways in which it might have been very much worse:" KaJrclough felt strangely comforted. His wife's optimism was infectious. He drew fresh courage from her fearless, straightforward way of confronting the future. He by no means underrated what they would have to go through; he recognized to the full the sharp trial that wm before them, and that for his wife leaving himself out of question there were slings and arrows In store of which as yet she knew nothing; but for all that, he was now able to look at the future with a steady eye. and to feel that he could meet Capt. Verschoyle with some degree of confidence. In the course of next day, which was Saturday, Fairclough arranged vth an expert In stich matters for an early appraisement of his goods and chattels. He and Clara spent a sad Sunday together. It would be, their last in the only home they had known since their marriage. Part of the day was passed

" Mothers Friend'

H.'i

'mm CHILD BIRTH EHST. Colvtn- X& Dee. 2, 1888. My wif o used HOTHEB'S JTBIEND beforo her third confinement, and says aha would not b without it for hundreds of dollars. DOCK MILIi. Seat by express on receipt of price. 11.50 r.er bottle, book "To Mothers" mailed frw:. . BRADFIZLD REQULATOR CO., ATLANTA. QA. in selecting and setting aside sundry articles wedding presents and thcr things which they felt it would bo a desecration to allow to come under the auctioneer's hammer. Early on Monday they ret out to hrr.t for apartments. They had ulready cut out a number cf 'ikely advertisements from different newspaper?. Six o'clock saw them back home, tired out and, so far. unsuccessful in their pit-st. Any one whose fate it has le?n to go house or apartment hunting in London will not fail to accord them a meed of sympathy. Dinner nasesd off sadly enough. Clara had a headache, and neither she nor her husband was in a mewjd for conversation. The meal was at an end. and the servant had come In to clear away the things, when, without any preliminary notice, the dining-room door was flung wide and in marched a tall, gaunt elderly woman, with a long, sallow face and gray hair, and with something that was almost military in her gait and bearing. She was dressed plainly, but in execellent taste, and with no attempt to make herself look younger than her years. No one could take hr for anything but a gentlewoman. Clara sprang to her feet with a little cry. "Aunt Sarah, by all that's wonderful!" exclaimed Fairclough. "Clara has been longing all day to see you. and now you are here. A clear case of mental magnetism," he added, as he advanced and shook Mis TVimbush cordially by the hand. Clara's arms were already round her aunt's neck. "Well, my children, ar.d how are you both?" queried the rpinster as she glanced keenly froin one to the other. "You do not look overcheerful, neither of you. I must say." Then after a stare round the room, the walls of which had been denuded -of their etchings and the over-mantel of its china, she added quickly: "And, pray, what's the meaning of this "most admired disorder?' Don't tell me that you are about to flit." "That's just what we are about o. do. Aunt Sarah." replied Fairclough. "We have been out all day trying to find a place to suit us, and we are both of us dead boat," whimpered Clara. "Then I must say that you are a pair of nincompoops," . rejoined the spinster, with some asperity. "But some folks never know when they are well off." "And some folk cannot always help themselves," retorted Fairclough, a little grimly. "Eh! What's that? Cannot " Then as for the second time she keenly scanned the faces of the young couple, she added: "Evidently there's more here than meets the eye. Come and sit beside me, my dear, and tell me all about it for that you have something to tell me I feel sure." "Yes tell your aunt everything it Is the best thing you can do." said Fairclough, and with that he left the two laüies to themselves. Clara, having seated herself on the sofa by her aunt, incontinently burst into tears. Her nerves were overwrought, and physically she was tired out. Miss Wimbush, beneath whose somewhat repellant exterior beat one of the warmest of hearts, soothed .her niece and made much of her; and before long the latter was sufficiently composed to tell her tale. And yet it was by no means an easy one to tell.' Two - people, both dear to her. were each grievously to blame. It was no u?e trying to explain away the fact that her brother's difficulty had been brought about by reckless speculation on the stock exchange; nor did Clara attempt it. Aunt Sarah merely groaned and held tip her nands at the recital, as one who. although shocked, was not greatly surprised at the news. Truth to tell, Frank Penisoa had never been much of a favorite with his aunt. When, however, it came to her husband's case, Clara contrived to soften so far the particulars as to lead hei aunt to infer that Fairclough was far more sinned against than sinning. She frankly told her, however, that the gaming-table had been at the bottom of all the trouble. He had been lured and beguiled Into it by a man much richer ths.n himself one to whom all scruples of morality were unknown. Weak and too easily led away he "might have been, but not otherwise blameworthy. In any case, the lesson was one which there was no danger of his forgetting, and in so far It might prove beneficial to him. Clara then went on to tell her aunt how her husband and she had decided upon selling their furniture, going Into cheap lodgings, and living with the strictest economy till the sunt due to Capt. Verschoyle had been paid to the uttermost farthing. Miss Wimbush sat n silence for some; time after Clara had brought her narrative to an end. Then she said: "It will be a great come-down for you, my jHior dear, and you will feel it far more than you have any notion of at present. And your husband too but one can't feel any pity for him; indeed, if he alone were the sufferer, I for one should say, Serve him right. " Clara winced, but did not sioak. What her aunt would have said had she known the full extent of Edgar's delinquency, Clara durst not even surmise. "(iladly, would J help you." resumed the spinster, "were it in my power to do so; but, as you are aware, years ago I sank every shilling of my capital in an annuity, all of which I, somehow or other, manage to get through, so that I have really next to nothing put away." Clara knew that the whole of her aunt's Income was by no means spent on herself, but that a quarter of it at the very least was given away in charity. At this juncture Edgar re-entered the room, and as he did so Miss Wimbush rose to go. "Clara has told me everything," she said. "You have been a very weak and foolish boy, to say the least of It; but it is to be hop-d the lesson won't be thrown away on you. However, I am not going to scold you; that would do no good whatever. What I say to you is: Don't take another step In this business till you see me again." She ended with three emphatic nods, a1; if to lend emphasis to her words. '"I shall look In upon you In the course to tomorrow." Edgar accompanied her down the lift, and saw her safely deioslted In a cab. "What can aunt possibly mean, dear, by asking us to do nothing till she sees us again?" burst out Clara the moment he returned. "She told me herself that she has only her annuity to live on, which I kne-.v before, and that she has nothing, saved up." if there be such a thing as comic annoyance, Falrolough's tare- was a. study of it at that moment. "You knowhow your aunt Fimetlmes drops Into the way of "Thinking aloud." he said. "Well, from a word or two I chanced to overhear when we were In the lift. I rather fancy it Is her Intention to dispose of the Burgomaster.' " "Oh, 1 hope not," exclaimed Clara. "It would almost break her heart to have to part with it." Fairclough gave vent to a bitter laugh. "It is of course awfully good of her to think she can get us out of our difficulty in the way she proposes; but the moment she endeavors t" get rid of the ,liurgimaster she will find that, instead of the 1.500 guineas she so persistently avers it to be worth, it will hardly fetch more than a many shillings. What did Plljoy. the great art critic, say about It? That most assuredly it was not the

genuine lost Rubens, but an indifferent copy by a quite modern hand, and that for his part he would not give It wall space. It will be a terrible disappointment for your aunt, who certainly is a little bit 'off as far as the r.urgornaster' is concerned: while, as for us. little one, we shall neither be better nor worse off than we are now."

Chnpler III. Miss Witnbush was a confirmed nomad. Since her father's death, when she was ouite a young woman, she had had no fixed home. Much of the continent was as well known to her as her own country; but of late years her peregrinations had been mostly confined within the limits of the United Kingdom. She was acquainted with numbers of people at alL of whose houses she was a welcome guest. Her visits among her friends were varied by pleasant litt V intervals of liohemlanism on her own account, when, accompanied by Mltcham, her maid, who had long ago arrived fit years of discretion, she would take tip her quarters for a brief while at this hotel or the Other boarding house, and revel in the luxury of making fresh acquaintances, and in studying the whims and humors of the heterogeneous mob of strangers with whom at such times she was brought into temporary contact. Put wherever Miss Wimbush went, on all her travels both at home and abroad, ahe was accompanied by one article which was altogether outside the scops of an ordinary . traveler's baggage. The article in question was a picture, presumably painted by none other than the great Peter Paul Rubens himself, seeing that it bore his monogram, with the date of 1620 in one corner of the canvas, and was said to be a portrait of the Burgomaster Van Troon. It was a wellascertained fact that Peter Paul painted two parotraits of the functionary in question, one of which was to be seen any day in a certain gallery at the Hague; while the other, which was said to be the superior of the two, had been lost sight "of for the last seventy or eighty years; neither had any of the numerous exhibitions of the last quarter of a century, consisting of pictures brought together from far and wide, sufficed to reveal its whereabouts. Consequently, could , it be proved that the picture Miss Wimbush carried about with her was really the missing "Rurgomaster," then did she possess a prize which she might well value and deem worthy of every jossible care. As we have learned, however, the verdict of Mr. Piljoy, the eminent art critic, was wholly opposed to . such a belief. Neither was he alone in his opinion, which had been backed up by other connoisseurs of repute who had been allowed as a great favor to examine the portrait. That It was a forgery, and of a comparatively modern date, they were all pretty well agreed. Meanwhile, Miss Wimbush went serenely on her way, wholly Indifferent to the opinions of Mr. Piljoy and his confreres. The "Rurgomaster" was one of several pictures bequeathed her by her father. The others she had promptly disposed of; but the supxosed Rubens she had made up her mind to keep. She knew thft her father had had a very special admiration for It. and had regarded it as the gem of his small but choice collection: and for his sake sh? determined never to part from it, unless some tinforseen necessity should one day compel her to do so. Therefore was It that wherever Miss Wimbush went the picture went with her. it being Mitcham's special and particular duty to look after its safety en route from one stopping place to another. It was enclosed in a mahogany case, the key of which the spinster never let out of her own possession. As a matter of course, her singular infatuation for what was commonly reported to be a worthless daub caused her to be laughed at behind her back; and Edgar Fairclough was by no means singular in thinking that, however sane and clear-headed Aunt Sarah might le in all other matters, she was undoubtedly "a little bit cracked" as far a.s the burgomaster's iortrait was concerned. On quitting Pendragon Square, after listening to hr niece's tale of woe, Aunt Sarah was driven to the boarding house where she was in the habit of takup her quarters when in town. In the sitting-room, busy with her needle, she found Mltcham, whom long years of faithful service had almost elevated into the position of companion. Miss Wimbush sat down on the nearest chair, and, although the evening was a chilly one, fanned herself for some seconds without shaking. Then all at once she said, in a voice which was not without a touch of tragic pathos: "Mitoham, the 'Rurgomaster' and I are going to part." If some one had fired off a pistol close by Mitcham's head, she could hardly have been more startled. She gave a half-jump off her chair and a great gasp. "L.aw! ma'am. I hope not, I'm sure." she said. "Whatever can have happened to make you think of such a thing? I always felt sure he would keep us company for the rest of our mortal lives." "I cannot tell you what it is that has happened; it is net altogether my own affair. Rut there is no other way none whatever." Her voice broke a little as she finished speaking. Save for a sympathetic sigh, Mltcham remained silent. She was one of those invaluable people who know when to speak and when to hold their tongue. Presently Miss Wimbush said: "I am tired, and shall retire at once." "About supper, ma'am ?"( ventured Mltcham. It was her mistress's favorite meal. "Pray, pray, don't talk to me about such things as suppers." quavered the poor lady. "I feel as if I should never want to eat another as long as I live." If her mistress could have seen Mitcham three mirutes later she would have opened her eyes very wide indeed. A broad smile of satisfaction lighted up the waiting-woman's usual impassive features. "So we shall get rid of you at last, shall we. you ugly, good-for-nothing old noosance." she said aloud. "And a precious riddance, too. for I've had a sickener of you, and no mistake." It was close upon noon next day when a cab stopped at the do jr of Mr. Henriques, a well-known picture dealer. From it alighted Miss Wimbush, to whom the precious "Rurgomaster" in, its case was then handed by Mltcham. The dealer and the spinster were already known to each other. It was to Mr. Henriques that the latter ha.l sold the pictures bequeathed her by her father that is to say. all save the so-called Rubens. "Clood-moining, Mr. Henriques," said Miss Wlnilmsh, as she marched into the line art emporium. "It is some years since we met. but It is possible that you have not quite forgotten me." "I have by no means forgotten you, madam," replied the dealer with a smile and a deferential bow. "The reminiscences of our last interview were of too agreeable a !cind to allow of my readily doing that." "Which means. I suppose, that you made a very agreeable profit out of your tianriction with me." "Ah. ha!" laughed the dealer softly, wilh the air of a person who has Just been told a good joke, and with that he drew forward a chair for his visitor. He was a little dried-up man. with a hook nose and very bright, beady eyes, and with something about him that rut peopte in mind -of an ancient bird of prey. i"t have at length made up my mind to dispose of my precious Rubens," went on the spinster: "that Is to say, of the portrait of the Rurgomaster Van Troon by that grext genius, with a view of which I favored you on the occasion, of our last meeting" The dealer rubbed his hands and bowed again. He was a man of many bows. "Hem I have not forgotten the work in question," he remarked with a dry smile. "I should think you have not. indeed," said Miss Wimhush with decisicn. "Well, here it Is." she added, as she proceeded to unlock the mahogany case. "Now examine it carefully, and then tell me how much that elnstc. article von call your conscience will allow you to offer me for it." With that she

planted the open case on an opposite chair, and sitting bolt upright, stared frcwnlngly at the little dealer. Apparently there was no need for Mr. Henriques to examine it carefully; he had done that in days gone by. All he did now was to satisfy himself that it was the same picture he had seen before. Then he turned to his visitor. "Really, madam, with all deference to you, you must permit me' to say that this is not a class of article such as I am In the habit of dealing in. My patrons want originals, not copies. Still, in consideration of the fact that madam and I have done business on a prior occasion, I do not mind offering a tenpound note for this this copy." He spoke deferentially, but firmly. "So you dare to call it a copy, do you?" snapped Miss Wimbush. The dealer bowed "And not a firstrate copy either, if madam will allow me to say so." "Well, Mr. Henriques. you are right. It is a copy and a daub into the bargain; and so 1 made sure that nobody would think it worth stealing. Be good enough to lift it out of its case, and then take the canvas out of the frame. I have a. special reason for asking this." Wondering somewhat, the dealer did as requested. "Now," said Miss Wimbush, "although you may not be aware of it, you hold two canvases in your hands. If you will carefully separate the upper one from the lower, you will see what you will see." With deft fingers Mr. Henriques proceeded to do t.s he wag bidden. On the upper canvas being removed there was disclosed to view the undoubted original, of which that had been merely an in ferior copy. And how immense was the difference betwen the two! Now for the first time one seemed to know what sort of man the Rurgomaster Van Troon had really been. Such as Rubens had conceived him to be, there he was for all the world to become acquainted with. It was a fact to dwell In one's memory for years (with its peaked beard, its furred gown, and its gold chain and badge of office); plain to the verge of ugliness, if one merely had regard to the features: stem and severely composed, and yet informed through and through with a spirit of high resolve and determined majesty. It may have been that the artist discerned in the face of his sitter a force of latent possibilities such as circumstances had never brought fully into play, but which yet were there, awaiting an hour which perchance might never strike, although the man himself might only be dimly aware of that which was clear to the intuition of genius. Having placed the canvas on an easel, the dealer fell back a pace or two and diew a deep breath. He knew a masterpiece when he 'caw it no man better; and for a little while he remained lost in admiration. "Madam," he said at length, "we have here in verity the celebrated 'Rurgomaster' which has been lost to the world for so many years. I will not be so Impertinent as to ask by what happy chance it came Into your possession: it is enough to know that it is here. Am I to understand, madam, that it is your intention to honor me by placing this chef-d'oeuvre in my hands with a view to finding a purchaser?" What Mr. Henriques was presently given to understand was, that Miss Wimbush had no immediate Intention of disposing of the "Rurgomaster" out and out. What she wanted was an immediate advance of a thousand pounds on the security of the picture, with the proviso that should she not be in a position to repay the amount in full, with interest, by the end of a couple of years, the Rrbrns should in that case become the absolute property of the dealer. After a little demur, Mr. Henriques assented to the proposed terms. An agreement was thereupon drawn up, signed, and witnessed to be stamped an hour later at Somerset house and presently Miss Wimbush went her way taking with her a check made out to "bearer" for 1.000. Mltcham and the cab were in waiting, and from the dealer's they drove direct to the bank. The spinster's face was hidden in part by her veil, but the spasmodic twitching of her mouth did not pass unnoticed by the waiting-woman, nor the two large tears which, a few seconds later, dropped into her lap. At the bank Miss Wimbush changed her check for notes, and was driven thence to Pendragon square. Fairclough had left home an hour before. It would be a painful thing for Aunt Sarah to have to confess that the belief of years was irrevocably shattered, and that her cherished Rubens was condemned as an undoubted fraud, and he had no desire to be a witness of her humiliation. Resides, in his own more personal matters, he found room enough for bitter thoughts. That morning had brought him a note from Verschoyle asking him to dine with the captain at his dub on the morrow, which was equivalent to intimating that a settlement there and then between the two would be looked upon as a necessity. He was depressed and miserable. The morrow would see his home broken up; and th absolute need of coming to an understanding of some kind with Verschoyle a fewhours later weighed heavily upon him. The street lamps had been lighted a full hour when he got back home, by which time Aunt Sarah had come and gone. Of the joyful surprise which awaited him we have no siace here to tell. The sudden revulsion tried his manhood as it had rarely been tried before. Miss Wimbuh had left lehind her not only money enough to enable him to Fettle with Capt. Verschoyle, but enough to pay for the redemption of the necklace as well. It was November before Maj. Stainforth put In an appearance at Pendragon square; and when he did it was to ask his goddaughter to return hirii the diamond necklace and accept in lien of it a bank-note for l,ono. There had been a feud of many years' standing between himself and his sister, which had now been made up, and as a proof that It was so, he was desirous of presenting her with the necklace, which, as having at one time belonged to her mother, might almost be looked upon as hers by right. The note had not been more than twenty-four hours in Clara's possession before the "Rurgomaster" was redeemed and carried in triumph to Pendragon square, where for the future it found a home. Miss Wimbush, to the secret joy of Mitcham, having decided no longer to run the risk of losing, or being : robbed of, so precious a possession in the course of her many journeyings to and fro. Chamlers's Journal. ot Much Choice. First Uttle C.irl (haughtily) "My mamma never goes lookin' around for bargains. She always buys the highestpriced goods In market." Second Little t.Jiii (vindictively) "That's so; the stuff will do to make over for her chlldrens when she gets through with it. My dresses may come from Uirgaln sales, but they is new. so there-." Street & Smith's (ood News. l.itce from l.envf. Few people know that the beautiful lace known us Fayal lac? Is made from the ribers of leaves of the bitter aloe, a relative of the common century plant. This lace is manufactured by women, and the necessary skill is so rarely attained that there are but about twenty-five persons on the inlands the Azores who can make it. The art needs to te practiced from childhood.

ELY'S CREAM BALM Catarrh I was surprised after using Ely's Cream Balm two months to find the rliht nostril, which was closed for 0 years, was open and free as the other. I feel very thankful. R. S. ClPM HEAD, p'dT VP Crei8?n?ham. -io kVjfcnwi Eighteenth 8;reet, Brooklyn. HAY-FEVER A particle Is applied Into each nostril and is agreeable. Price &0 cents at druggista or bv mail. ELY BROTHERS. 6ci Warren etrect. New Yor.

LniD

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Gentlemen: I have used your Heady Relief for more th.-.n 2". years with much satisfaction, have it for la grippe, pneumonia, pleurisy, and all sorts of aches and pains, and have found it unfailing everv time. Yours truly. P. YV. RAYOXD," 21 Cresccr.t-st., MidJletown. Conn. Jan. 18. 1SS4. J. W. BKKWER, Ashburn. Tik Co., Mo. "One bottle of Reedy Relief and one bottle of Radway's nils cured five of my family of that terrible complaint, la grippe or influenza." ASHVII,I,E. S. C This is to crtifr that in Feburary. ISaO, I had a severe attack of "la grippe." and cured myself in twenty-four hours e- the use of li;idway's Ready Relier anu Radway's Pills. I had another attack of th" same dre-H-ful disease In March. 1S91, and used the same remedy with the same rep-ilt. 1 do not know Radway & Co., the parties who manufacture th'-se medicines, and I have always put very little faith in ".ümanac certificates," Put if these few lines will only induce some suffering one use the above remedy I will feel amply repaid fur writing wh.it I have. respectfully. I-:. I,. BROWN. RADWAY'.1 RKAPY RULILT ail.'d by RADWAY'S PILI.S is the uukii.st and most effectual cure for THE "OH-II?." AT.T, IXTKRN'AIi PAINS. PAINS IN ROWKI.S OK STOMACH. CRAMPS. SOI 'R STOMACH. SPASMS. NAl'SKA. VOMITING. HKAUTnrnx. crvotsni-:ss. Sl,KRPId:sSNL:SS. SICK HKAhACHR. IMAURHOKA. C'Ol.lC. FLATII.KNCV. FAINTING SPEId-S. are relieve-l inprantly and quickly cured by taking: internally a half to a "tefispoonful of Ready Relief in half a tumbler of water. MALAHIA, FEVER AND AGUE. 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'; i k. brick dust deposits, or the water is thi cloiidv, mixed with substances like white of an etffi. or threads like white s or there is a morliid. d.;rk. biüoii appe ilK. i r - M.ir. and white bonediist deposit v.hen there is a Prickln;;, burning sen tlon when pussin water, and p.tiu In small of the tick and al-.ot; ti,e k, Sold by dnipcjsts. Ptiee. i:e Dollar. inL PILLS. ALWAYS RELIABLE, PURELY VE6ETAELE. Cause perfect I Hj.-es l ion . complete at, sorption and helahful regularity. Kor the cur of all disorders of th Stomach. Elver. Bowels. Kidneys. Bladder. Nervous Ins-eases-, Female lireiirlaritiris, LOSS OF APPETITE, SICK HEADACHE. INDIGESTION, DIZZY FEELINGS, BILIOUSNESS, CONSTIPATION, DYSPEPSIA. TKRFI'CT DIOKSTION will he nccAmplished bv taking Radway's P.lls. P.v their ANTI-BlidOt'S properties they stimulat the liver in the secretion of the l.ile and its dlscharp through the biliary ducts. The?e pills In dose of from two to foul will quieklv regulate the action of th liver and free the patient from these diorders. One or two of Kadway's Pill;, taken dailv bv those subject to hilinu pains and torpidity of the liver, will keep the ftystcm regular and secure healthy dicestlonF. price Sc per box. S:1 1 by all druggists. had waV & co., m:v vonic.