Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1899 — Page 6

CHAPTER XVIII. j The day and the hour arrived. Sir ♦Basil was to go with them as far as (Dover, and see them safely on board. They were all four to start by the mididay train from Arley to London. i Leah had measured her strength that jmorning, and found it rapidly failing. ! "I coulji not live through two more ♦days of it,” she said. “Thank heaven, it is almost over.” i She was passive, while her maid took jail the pains she could to hide the shrinking of the graceful figure, the pallor of ithe beautiful fate. She must keep up appearances while she was in England, among those who knew her; but, when •he was across the sea, she could give way, she could droop and. die as she ,would—but not here. She bade farewell to the grand old ihome where she had been so utterly, but ,falsely happy. She stood for some time on the terrace where the passion flowers (grew —the spot where she had seen her .lover first, and where her heart had gone out to him. She kissed the bare brown .branches. They would live again; they would be covered with green leaves and •tarry flowers when leaves and flowers should gladden her eyes' no more. She stretched out her hands with a great cry when she took her last look round the room where she had spent such happy 3>ours. All earth and air seemed burning fire. Oh, for rest, for change, for the coldness even of the grave! i Those who saw Miss Hatton’s face when she left Brentwood never forgot it. ’ It waa a strange journey to. Dover. Sir 'Arthur was the only one who talked. jHettie avoided either looking at or speaking to Sir Basil, and Leah could have 'laughed in bitter amusement at the •eene. Sir Arthur spoke of his nieces' return, of the marriage, of Glen, of Basil In Parliament, and saw nothing wrong. They stood together on deck at last, • blue sky above them, the sun shining on the white cliffs of Dover and on the sea, which was almost as smooth as a mirror. Sir Arthur took Hettie to the other •Me of the vessel. “They will have so much to say to each other; lovers always have. We will leave them alone, Hettie.” 80 they stood side by side, the deathly pallor of Leah’s face hidden by her veil. iA terrible calm had fallen over her. She loved Sir Basil still with her whole heart: •he could have knelt down there, and have covered his hands with burning kisses and burning tears. She held them for a moment in a close grasp, while she looked into his face for the last time. The solemn shadow of eternity lay over her. Then there came a shout from the sailora. All was in readiness; those who ♦were for shore must leave. The moments “were numbered; her eyes never left him, iher hand still held his. “I must go,” he said. “Good-by, Leah.” |He bent down and kissed her lips. He etarted to find them so cold. “Good-by,” he repeated. “A pleasant, prosperous Journey, Leah, and a happy return.” “Good-by, Basil; good-by, my love,” she •aid; and the next moment she was look,'ing over the waters alone. I 'He was gone. She felt that she would never see him again in this world. The >sky, the sea, the white cliffs were whirling round her. She was glad to raise her veil and let the sea breeze play upon her face. She was free now; she need no ,longer keep up appearances. She had looked her last upon him. The long strain, the long tension was ended. The calm plash of the waves seemed to cool the fever that had laid waste her life; all earth and air were no longer burning fire. The rest of the journey was like a dream to her, and she never woke from it until •rhe stood in the salon of the villa at Mentone, and saw the duchess regarding her with tearful eyes. “Great heaven,” she cried, "this is not Leah; this is a shadow! I thought it was Hettie who had been ill!” “So it was. I have not been ill," said • voice which the duchess scarcely recognised as Leah’s. “I am well; but my journey has tired me.” “What can be the matter? What has gone wrong in the girl's life?” thought the kindly woman. “The only thing that •he reminds me of is a flower broken by a tempest.” There was in Mentone a celebrated English physician, Dr. Evan Griffiths—a skillful, prosperous man, very popular among the invalids and the English at Mentone. He lived with his mother in a pretty little villa. Popular as he was, he had never married. It was said that he bad no time for wooing. One evening as Dr. Griffith sat alone in his study the servant announced a young lady. She had sent no card and had given no name, but looked very ill. At first the doctor felt annoyed. He had no liking for mysterious patients, and felt it hard that he could not have one eigar in peace. , “Show the lady in here,” he said impatiently.

But his impatience died away when a tall, closely veiled woman came in and Stood silently before him. * She did not speak until the servant had closed the door; then she raised her veil so that he could see her face: and he was startled by its delicacy and wonderful beauty. • “I know that I am calling at an unusual , time," she said. “1 thank you much tor seeing me. I have a question to ask you—a question of life or death. WHI you answer it ? ' Ttf I can,” said the doctor. "Does it Coapern yourself?” , ’ *Jtes,” she replied. A|kd then he felt that death, and not life, would be the answer. If he could lodge Xrom her face. ! ' -y/- CHAPTER XIX. ;■ Dr. Griffiths placed a chair for his beautiful, young patient, and, standing * by the We, waited until she spoke. Do -people,” she said, abruptly,, “ever dtwu* 4B broken heart F’ “I have never known a ease," answerad tie doctor, “though I have heard and ■nd suciMinnring.”

BETWEEN TWO LOVES

BY CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

“Some month* since,” she said, looking at him with calm, grave eyes, “I was as strong as anyone could wish to be. I had splendid health and a perfect constitution. Now I have hardly, strength to live, and everyone thinks I am in danger.” “There must be a reason for It,” remarked the doctor, quietly. “There is a reason, which I will tell you, and I want you to judge if it will kill me. I have had within the last two months a trouble—a terrible trouble — one that I have had to bury Ln the depths of my heart. I could not speak of it. or hint it, or place confidence in any living creature concerning it. I have shut my secret in my heart, and it has been preying upon it. It has eaten my heart away. The constant repression, the desperate efforts I have made to seem as usual, have been too much for me; and now I feel sure that I have some affection of the heart which will soon put an end to my life.” He began to understand something of the case. “Do you want to live?” he asked briefly. • “No; I want to die,” she answered. Then came a string of questions, all »f which she answered candidly enough. The doctor knit his brows, and was silent for some time; then he listened to the action of the heart and grew graver still. “I think,” he said, “that you have always had a great tendency to heart disease; and now, l am sorry to say, it is a confirmed case.” Her face brightened, and shq murmured a few words to herself which he did not hear. “Tell me, doctor," she asked, “how long do you think I have to live?” “Not long,” was the grave reply. “In a great measure it lies' in your own hands. If you could get rid of this care; if you could prevent yourself from brooding over it; if you could rouse yourself, you might live a little longer.” “I could not,” she said; “the restraint has been too great and too persistent. Will you tell me what the end will be like?” “I wish you would not ask me,” he answered, looking pitifully at the fair face. “It will be the greatest service you can render me,” she said. “It matters so little to me. If I have some months to lave, I shall carry out an intention which I have formed; if not, I shall forego it. Tell me, doctor.” “You will not live for months,” he said —“the greater the pity.” “The greater the joy!" she cried. “Will it be weeks?” “Weeks in all probability,” he replied. “And the end?” she asked again. “The end will be sudden and peaceful,” he answered. “It may be at any time. Any sudden sorrow or joy might prove fatal. Calmness, peace, resignation, are your greatest helps. Poor child,” he said, in an outburst of sudden tender pity—"poor child! Life has been hard for you!” “Very hard,” she declared. “I wish,” he said, “that you would follow my advice. I could not save your life, but I might prolong it.” "No,” she replied. “I am staying here at Mentone; I shall die here, and, when I die they will lie sure to send for you. You will not say that you have seen me?” “I will not,” he promised. There followed two quiet, peaceful and happy weeks, of which Hettie liked to think afterward. It struck her at times that Ijeah looked weak and ill, but she made no complaint. Letters and newspapers came every day from England, giving them all the news of Glen and of Brentwood—above all of the election; Hettie enjoyed talking about it with the duchess, but Leah never uttered a word. She had made up her mind to the greatest sacrifice any woman could make—she would die and give no sign. News Game from England that Sir Basil had been returned member for the county. The Duke and Duchess were delighted. Hettie was pleased, and talked more about it than she talked about anything else. Leah said little, but ahe looked happier. The next day came a letter to say that, the election being over, Sir Basil and the general hoped to run over to Mentone, even if they were able to remain only a week. When Loafi read that letter, her face grew white. Leah went to her room; the sun shone bright and warm, and the air was full of the peYfume of flowers. She was tired with a peculiar feeling of longing for rest which was new to he?, and her senses had been suddenly sharpened. She could see further; she could hear with almost painful distinctness. She had a letter to write, but the feeling of fatigue was so strong upon her that she was hardly inclined to commence her task. “I will do' it at once, and then it will not trouble me,” she said to herself. She sat for some time with the pen in her hand. It was the one great temptation of her life. Should she tell him or not? When she came to die, should she feel any the happier that *she had left him with this sting in his breast, this memory which would always be to him one of bitter pain? It would be ample vengeance. If he knew that her unhappiness had killed her. he could never be happy again. He was honorable and sensitive; the chances were that if he knew the truth he would never marry Hettie. It was a great temptation. Her heart throbbed with it, her whole frame trembled; and then with a supreme effort she conquered it "■ Swiftly, suddenly, as had been foretold, death came to her, without pain, without bitterness, without agony. The pen dropped from the white fingers; her head fell upon the paper. She died with a smile on her lips. There was not even's spasm of pain, no faint murmur or cry. The broken heart had stopped at last. With the wind that chanted a requiem among the.great trees her xml rose to heaven and the body left

behind grew roM and beautiful in the embrace of death. CHAPTER XX. Bo they found her, dead. The duchess was almost frantic. She refused to believe that Leah was dead. It was utterly impossible, she declared. She called for brandy, wine, hot water—every possible restorative. She would not see the mark of death on the beautiful face. She sent for doctors, and one of the first who came was Dr. Evan Griffiths. He recognized her at once. This was the despairing girl who had come to him longing with her whole heart to die; and the longing had been granted. He was accustomed to many a sad sight, and scene, to every kind of sickness and distress; but he had seen nothing which touched him more than the dead face of this hapless girl. Tears came into his eyes. The duchess would not allow anything to be touched in the room until the general and Sir Basil came. They had telegraphed at once for them. Fast as steam could take them, they went to Mentone and found* the terrible news true that Leah was dead. All the calm, imperial beauty of her youth came back to her as she lay sleeping after her long fever and pain. There was no pain on the beautiful face; the thick, dark eyelashes lay like fringe on the white cheeks; there was a strange beauty on the marble brow, and the proud curves of the perfect lips were set in a smile; The duchess had covered the couch on which she lay with lovely white blossoms; and so Sir Basil, who had parted from her on board the steamer, saw her again. He kissed the pale lips that had murmured so many loving words to him, weeping like a child and regretting that he had not loved her more. Early the next morning he went out and procured some scarlet passion flowers. Sir Arthur Hked him all the better because he cried like a child when he placed them in the dead white hands. One could have fancied that a smile passed over the dead face. Her secret waa safe forever now, and no one knew why she had died. No suspicion of the truth came to any one of them. So they mourned her, and no sting of bitter memories increased their pain. Hettie and the general learned to love each other in the midst of their trouble more than they would ever have done in prosperity. They mourned long and sincerely for Leah. The general for a long time was quite unlike himself —he seemed unable to recover from the blow; and there were times when everyone thought that Hettie must follow her sister. There was a great outburst of sorrow in England when the papers told that Leah, the beloved niece of Gen. Sir Arthur Hatton, had died suddenly at Mentone, of heart disease.

English visitors go now to see her grave; none leave it without tears. They tell each other how soon she was to have been married to someone whom she loved dearly, and how she was writing to her lover when the summons came. Leah’s grave is the most beautiful in the cemetery. A tall white marble cross bears her name, and masse* of superb scarlet passion flowers creep up it and overhang the grave. Five years have passed since Leah’s death, but her memory lives bright and beautiful among those who loved het beat. Sir Basil and Hettie have been three years married and they live entirely at Brentwood. Sir Arthur implored them to let it be so. He could not bear to live alone again. So they had consented to make Brentwood their home, leaving it at times to go to Glen, when the general always accompanied them. He Loved Heit tie, and, as the years rolled on, he looked to her for all the comfort and brightness of his life. ’But those who knew him best said that she had never occupied the same place in -his heart which Leah had. There is no fear that Leah will be forgotten at Brentwood. The beautiful picture of her shown at the Royal Academy and called “The Passion-Flower,” hangs in the drawing room there. Every one who sees it stops and looks with wonder it the lovely face and dark eyes that leem to follow one. Lady Carlton has a fine handsome boy, whom she has named Arthur, who inherits her blue eyes and golden hair. She thinks that there is no boy in England like him, and Sir Basil is of the same opinion, though, perhaps, in hjs heart he loves best the baby girl called Leah, whose dark eyes and lovely face bring so vividly back to him the one buried forever from the sight of men. / One morning Lady Carlton, at play with her baby girl, caught her in her arms and held her up in front of the picture of “The Passion-Flower.” “See, Basil,” she cried, “little Leah will be the very image of her aunt.” Sir Basil crossed over to his wife. “She will resemble her,” he said quietly, “but I hope baby’s face will not have the shadow of melancholy that lies on this one.” “I hope not,” returned Hettie. “Leah always had that look; even when her face was most radiant, it was there. Oh, Basil, how young and beiutiful»she was to die!”

“I often wonder,” said Sir Basil, “what would have happened had she lived. Hettie. I never like to think that our happiness—and we are happy, sweet wife—comes from Leah’s death.” Hettie looked at him thoughtfully. “It is not so, Basil,” she said. “If Leah had lived, you would have married her, but she never would have been happy. I think she wanted something more than one finds in this world. Her nature was noble and lofty; I do not think any human love would have satisfied her. Do you remember the restless longing on her beauteous face? See—it is tltere, even in this picture. She would never have been happy.” "Perhaps not,” allowed Sir Basil, “perhaps not, Hettie. I think you are right,” he said, as they moved slow!y away from the beautiful face.' That was how they judged her. “The heavy clouds may be raining, But with evening comes the light; Through the dark are low winds complaining, . Yet the sunrise gilds the height. And love has hidden treasure For the patient and the pure; And Time gives his fullest measure To the workers who endure; And the Word that no love has shaken Has the future pledge supplied; - - For we'know that when we ‘awaken* We shall be ‘satisfied;’ ” 4 (Ttmend.) •

Great Britain bays more than 20,000 horsestn the United States every year.

WOMANS REAIM

SHY GIRL USUALLY LIKED. OU are just beginning to go out; y 7 you are 20 years old, and you would like, as is perfectly natural, not only to have the love of women, but the genuine admiration of men. The admiration of all men is not worth having. You say that you are pleasant to look at, but that when you meet strangers you are abashed, the blood rushes to your face, and you don’t know what to say. Now, a little bit of that Is due to self-consciousness; more of it Is inexperience. When a man is presented to you you need not expect to go off into an easy conversation with him, as does the woman of 40, but you can get your thoughts away from yourself and answer him as Intelligently as possible. Make up your mind to be a little slow in your speech rather than to give a foolish answer, and after |you have resolved to do this you will not find it difficult to overcome that silly giggle so peculiar to young women, and which is very often the result of great nervousness and an effort to speak quickly, according to the Ladles’ Home Journal.

The girl in society who is a bit shy may envy that other girl who is boisterous and rough, who laughs very loudly, who tells and listens to things that are not quite nice, and who is particularly at ease In the society of men. The shy girl may w*ish for her eeoposure, but if the shy girl could look Into the hearts of the men who are about this girl she would realize that she has no kingdom, and that never for a minute has she been a queen except in her own imagination. Men, when they want comrades, seek other men. What they desire In a young Woman is a companion, and one who is totally different from themselves in her ideas and her manner of speech. What Marriage Means. I am afraid that a good many women marry when they can, for although women are more self-reliant than of old, marriage Is still the favorite career, though not the only one. It is also the most desirable one, for maternity, if not marriage, is the rounding and completing of life. That women marry now later than they used to is surely a gain. Women are not really developed in character earlier than men, though It has pleased men to’say so and fhlnk so. The average girl of 20 is more inexperienced and undeveloped than the boy of the same age; necessarily so, because she has led a narrower, more sheltered life. I do not think girls, as a rule, ought to marry under 25. Let them have a good time if they can, and if they cannot—and I think imaginative girls are often unhappy in early girlhood—then the little pangs they will have to endure will tend to the ripening and sweetening of their characters. Girls who marry young and have the cares of life thrown on them too early are often harassed and self-engrossed creatures of an arrested development of mind and heart. The woman who marries after she has come to maturity is more likely to realize her own happiness and that of her husband and children. Yet I believe that the happiness of marriage depends more on the wife than the husband, who as a rule is amenable if only his wife knows how to behave as a reasonable being.—Katherine Tynafi, in the American Queen.

Woman Superintendent. - Denver boasts a woman superintendent,of schools. Her name Is Emma M. Hery, and she has been a teacher in

MISS B. M. HERY.

writing, having taken prizes for her shdrt stories. When the bicycle craze first struck Colorado Miss Hery learned to ride, and she was so delighted with the experience that she wrote “a love story on wheels.” /"" Pleated Skirts. You are a wise woman if you can keep pace with the foibles of fashion, and can keep up with all the ways and little graces in gowning and deportment that mark a fashionable woman. The habit skirt was easily caught up in the center of the back, and it no longer trailed. It was a favorite with women for that one reason. It, too, induced carelessness, for it couldn’t drag, but how to manage the new plaited skirts? The correct way to hold the new skirt is to run the |humb of the left hand under the plait, with the firgens spread over the top, about four Inches from the waist line. The skirt is lifted a trifle, and the hand is turned over, so that the knuckles rest against the body. This does not show too much of the petticoat, which must tone In Trith the lining, when lining is put in the gown. Faulty Faultfinder*. Has it ever occurred to you that we criticise most severely the faults in others we possess ourselves? A merciless criticism is at times indulged in > by the people whose owl lives are' marked by the shortcomings they think so bad in others. The matter had best be met with a resolve to restrain all fault-finding opportunity to turn over a new leaf than here and now. Try the experiment of looking for the good and shutting your eyes to the evil In those among whom your lives *a » cast To

Denver schools. Miss Hery is 23 years old, of charming personality, being a fine talker and a delightful writer. She is an active member of the Denver Woman’s Press Club, and has done some fine

the woman who is mistress of a bouse this resolve is most necessary. There are people who act upon the belief that those under them will never do their best work unless subjected to constant fault-flndlng, and that the only way to keep work up to the mark is to point out every possible flaw. A little praise and encouragement when a thing is done well would do fifty times more good than a scolding for something which has beed neglected or forgotten. A most useful lesson to be learned by everyone Is, what to see, and what not to see; what to hear, and what not to hear. We might then be. able to give sympathy where others sneer, or encouragement where .others rebuke or condemn. Criminality of Women and Men, In an article on “Women and- the Emotions,” by Prof. Mantegazza, in the November Humanitarian, there are some interesting statistics showing that those modern sociologists who hold that women are men’s equals in the field of criminality are wrong. Here are some of them: Man bears false witness 100 times to a woman’s 17.

Man, for forgery and counterfeit coining, was convicted 100 times to a woman’s 11. In France, women are summoned before the tribunals four times less than men. In France, in 1880, women delinquents were 14 to 100 men. In Italy, in the same year, they were only 9 per cent. In Algeria we have 96 male delinquents and only four women. In England and Wales, between 1834 and 1842, there were 24 women to 100 men, all for the more serious offenses. In 1871, Dr. Nicholson found in the prisons in England 8,218 men and 1,217 women. In Bavaria, from 1862 to 1866, in a population consisting solely of peasants, the women who were condemned were, in proportion, 29 to 100 men. In the prisons of Turin, from 1871 to 1884, the women, in respect to men, are represented by a figure of 13.67 per cent. , Taking the whole of Europe, women are, the professor says, five times less guilty than men. Brother Wounded in Africa. Among the English officers seriously wounded at the battle of Elandslaagte is Lieutenant 'Barnes, whose sister is

VIOLET VANBRUGH.

family has had representatives on the stage, in the army, and in the church. Women as Dreamers. According to an Italian scientist, there is one thing in which women have the decided advantage of men—if “advantage” it can be called—afad that is the dreaming of dreams. Whether men are less imaginative or whether, to take a prosaic, view, they eat more and sleep more soundly; or, arguing by analogy, since ' Imbeciles seldom dream, their brains are not in such good order as those of the opposite sex, we are left to decide for ourselves. But the fact remains, as Signor de Sanctis says, that women can dream the heads off men. Not only are our dreams more frequent than theirs, but there is always more story in them, and—this is certainly not a commendable feature—they are better remembered.—Philadelphia Inquirer.

ABOUT THE BABY

There is one caution which ought continually to be dinned into mother’s ears —don’t let the brain be overworked. Some of you will smile at that, I know, but any physician will tell you that nerve trouble Is more common with children than with the elders. And it is all caused by overworked brains. Children cannot have too much fresh air—but proper attention must be given to the wearing apparel in very cold or unpleasant weather. Then, again, never let a child go out feeling cold, but on the contrary let him start with the fullest supply of animal warmth which will remain with him while he. is out A welt-filled stomach will help the warmtag process; in fact, .it is one of the first things to be considered. It Is an error to give too much meat to children under 10 years of age, because the digestive organs are not equal to it. A meat diet will cause a child to become Irritable, snappish and quarrelsome. The best foods for little ones are milk, custards, simple puddings, farinaceous food, fruit, vegetables and lightly boiled eggs. After the tenth birthday has been reached a child’s diet need not worry his mother—be can eat like the rest of the family. Three of the diplomas of the National Health Society, Mrs. Colby, Miss M. E.' Plggot, and Miss E. Stewart, have obtained appointments under the LondOn Schol Board as lecturers on health.

the well - known English actress, V i olet VanbrugK In private life Ml® Vanbrugh is Mrs. Arthur Bourchier, her husband being a prominent actor and th e a trical manager. She is the daughter of the late Rev. R. H. Barnes, so that the

TRICK PHOTOGRAPHS.

AU Sorts of Amusing Things Can Ba Done with Photographic Prints. One can do all sorts of things with photographic prints if one only knows how. .Look, for example, at the pictures of trick photographs taken from an article by Dorothy Forester in the Girls* Realm. This is what the author writes about her methods: “One'of the simplest and I find best methods to work upon is, in the first

“WE MUST GIVE THIS LADY A VEBT NICE BOW.”

place, to select a good title. By a good title I mean some well-known phrase or term where the play upon the words Is easy and the picture obvious. For instance, an old head on young shoulders, represented by the head of an old lady of 80 printed onto the body of a child of 6. This changing of heads is the simplest yet one of the most amusing of the effects that can be produced by composite photography and is obtained quite easily by marking the

MOT THE EFFECT THEY INTENDED TO PRODUCE.

plates in printing. * It may be as well to explain for the benefit of those who as yet know nothing of the mysteries of this branch of the photographic art what the marking process is. And I cannot, I think, do better than give a photograph as an illustration of this method. “Take, /or instance, the one I suggested, ‘an old head on young shoulders.* First print the figure of the child, carefully blocking out the head and the peck line by covering It with

A STARTLING GAMS. OF BALL.

paper of the exact shape. Then take the negative of the old lady and block out everything but her head, and put this upon the body of the child. Of course, this must be done with great care and the joining of the two photographs softened in order to leave no hard lines. You should also generally retouch the whole picture. After some practice in doing this you will find that with the exercise of a little thought and ingenuity almost any part of a photograph can be altered, pieces of it taken away and bits added here and there, until hardly anything of the original remains.” ■ ' ■

“Hamlet" by Candlelight.

Osmond Tearle had a curious experience while playing “Hamlet” at Durban, Natal, recently. Suddenly, during, Hamlet’s “nunnery scene” with Ophelia, the electric lights in the theater went out and it and the whole town was in darkness. Quick as thought Leonard Rayne, who was playing Polonlus, seized a candle, and coining down front, assured the audience that they had nothing to fear and that he hoped the light would be presently restored. As a matter of fact it was not until the end of the play that the light which had so suddenly gone out was suddenly switched on again. Candles, consequently, had to be resorted to for footlights—which quite intensified the “fqnerealism” of the graveyard scene.

Cleaning Iron Bedsteads

. The following paste is excellent for this purpose: Mix together one gill of -paraffin, half a gill of naphtha and enough tripoli powder to make a rather soft paste. Apply with a bit of felt, rub till all dirt ia removed, dust with dry tripoli powder and polish with a

How near you can come to getting a good thing, |nd not get itl