Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1900 — Page 6

Twixt Life and Death

BY FRANK BARRETT

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) “Of course you’re squared. Everyone ..jknows it." said .the amiable Nicholas, but 5n such a tone that if he had told her that jnobody believed her protest it would (have been less objectionable. “Of course .you’re squared." “Well, I suppose they must have someone young and pretty for the business,” (said Itodmond. "One cannot expect london io go mad over a woman of 40.” "Oh, don’t, don’t, don't!” said the “How I do 'ate to hear two imarried people sneering at each other llike this!" ■ _ • "If Mr. Redmond wishes to insult "Nothing of the kind; 1 (nine to offer #Oll my sympathy.” “There you go again!” said Mr. Nichols. "Why will you do it?” “Do you think I want your sympathy?" asked Mrs. Redmond, growing livid (through the rouge. "Oh, I dare say you can do without it. Tm toid Nessa keeps you as if you were Sier own mother.” "Now, why should you take and repeat all the little things you hear?” rvnionjstrated Nichols. "Who says Nessa keeps inc?" asked pMtrw. Redmond, with difficulty lowering tier voice. “Why, everyone says so. It's self-evi-dent. You go on with the crowd at tive-and-twenty shillings a week,.and live up to about fifteen or twenty pounds a week. Stands to reason you must get that out rot Nessa’s- pocket.” “There's a mean way to put it!” protested Nichols. “Why should you say •Mrs, R. takes the money, when most likely Miss G. gives it of her own free will? Don’t everyone tell you that she’s so . jgi nerous and kind-hearted now?" "Oh, no one underrates the generosity of a girl who spends two'or three hundred pounds to pay bills that might have brought you into something worse than (the County Court.” "I didn't ask her to do it—the little fool!” "Of course you didn't,” said Mr. Nichols,tn that irritating, bland tone that always gave bis words the lie. "Of course you didn't, ask her to.” "You’ll’have to economize when Nessa drops you. You may as well begin now,” iittid Redmond. "But the young lady won't drop Mrs. R She wouldn't be so heartless,” said .Nichols. The innuendo scarcely stung her. Redmond took up the running. "Oh, won't, she?” he said, with a derisive laugh. “Look at those swells over [there. One of 'em’s got a title, and I heard him swear that he'd marry the girl to-morrow if she would have him. Well, one day one of those swells will marry her, and then do you think he’ll let his wife keep Mrs. Redmond as a permanent fixture? There's the workhouse; but 1 don’t think you’re fitted for that.” "Oh. lon't talk about the workhouse - a tine woman like Mrs. K." "What doyouwant,” the tortured woman cried out.

“There's my address," said Redmond, putting a piece of paper before bis wife. “Send me a five-pound note every Saturday, and I won't bother you. If you forget it, I’ll call for it." "There, that's very reasonable, I'm sure," said Mr. Nichols, laying his fat hand on Mrs. Redmond's arm. She jerked it away viciously. "Be ealm, my dear lady,” said Nichols, ■sweetly. “If you think I came here just for the sake of interfering between husband and wife, you mistake the nature of my business. Now you’re behaving very handsome in giving your husband five pounds a week, which will continue as long ns nothing happens to Mias Grahame; but if anything should happen to Miss Grahame, us matters stand at present, you would never get a penny of your money back again. That doesn't seem right and'fair. ami in business you ought always to be liberal.nnd generous. Now what I am going to propose is that -that, fi- Mr. Redtnond shares in your prosperitv while Miss Grahame lives, you should share, in his prosperity if anything happens to her. That’s nice and reasonable, ain’t it?" lie asked, turning to Redmond, who replied by a surly nod that showed < learly enough that the question had been decided beforehand.

“Now I think that if any tiling happens to Miss Grahame you ought, in con rideration of your generosity to your husband - yon ought to be made independent' and comfortable for the rest of your life. So here I am writing out an agreement which you can get stamped to-mor-row morning, making it as binding as any deed drawn up by a lawyer—an agreement on the part of your busband to pay you Sophia Redmond the sum of fifteen thousand pounds. You can't expect nuyihiug fairer than that, can you?" ’ The woman nodded impatiently, and made a gesture for him to continue. “Now, your husband is going to sign that,” he said, putting the paper and pencil into Redmond’s hand, "and I'm going to witness the signature all nice and regular." Redtnond signed the paper, pushed it forward with morose discontent in his face, rose, and went away without, a word, leaving his two partners together. "There yon are, my dear lady,” said Nichols, after writing his name to witness the signature. "Take care of it, for it's worth a fortune to you. Of course, ■while your husband bns got nothing, you can get nothing by that paper; but the moment he comes into his estate by anything happening to Miss Grahame, you just present that, and you won’t fijive to w orry about anything in the wide world.” She leaned over, and Sfwke with feverish eagerness: ‘Tn plain words, this is a security for . fifteen thousand pounds to be paid me If M • “Hush, hush! I can’t listen to anything that I couldn’t take my oath I fierar heard mentioned. But if I can help

you : n any way—and I think I can—l ■ shall be most happy. Now, what do you say to my dropping in like a friend tomorrow night, and having a little > hat about things in general?” “I shall be here as soon as my number is done.” “That’s right. Good-night, my dear lady. So glnd to have brought things round nice and pleasant.” He rose, and, joining Redmond at the bar. took him out, linking his arm in the manner of tin impulsive, good-natured friend. He said nothing. But, as their eyes met, the look of cunning satisfaction that p;issod- between them, contained, a whole volume of villainy. * * • * .♦ * ♦ The next evening Mrs. Redmond went to the Hippodrome with a queer, sinister glow in her face. There were half a-dozen compeptitora from the audience to-night. The races were run ns on the preceding night. The outsiders’ heat was won by an Italian woman; Nessa won in the “International Company” heat. When the two horses were brought in for the race between the two winners, Nessa gracefully offered the choice to her adversary. After taking in the animal’s "points’’ with a keen, shrewd glance, the Italian chose Caprice. Nessa won on the other by a length and a half. Nessa was <yiee more triumphant, and when she had trotted around the arena a line of bouquets marked her course. The chariots were brought in, and the challenge given to the women beyond the barrier,*. Mrs. Redmond was the last to offer. Her victory was a foregone conclusion—the race was a feeble one, and yet she won by no more than the length of her chariot. Nessa and Fergus knew that she was reserving her horse's strength for the single combat. Once more the herald came forward, challenging the crowd to compete with the charioteer. A note from Fergus slipped into her hand had prepared Nessa for her business. When the herald had given the challenge three times and no one from ’the crowd responded, Nessa rose,- upon which there was a tumult of applause from company and audience. She came down from the throne amidst the flowers that covered the steps, and put off her wreath and robes. Then I’Esperanee was led in. She patted the mare’s neck, looked round the house once more, and mounted. In dead silence Mrs. Redmond brought her chariot to the starting line on the inner course; then a length was measured, and Nessa brought her mare to the mark. Fergus whispered a word of encouragement as he passed her. and the next minute the signal to start was given. Before they bad gone half-way down the first lap, Nessa perceived that Mrs. Redmond was putting her horses to their utmost speed. She knew they never could keep up the pace, and so made up her mind to reserve her mare for the I final lap. In the second hip Mrs. Red- ‘ moud was far ahead; but Nessa and Feri gus both saw that her horses were almost spent with the tremendous effort exacted front them, and that there was yet a good chance of I'Espers nee getting in a winner.

“Now!” cried Fergus, as Nessa darted past, entering on the irtst lap. "Now, now!” cried Nessa. Up to this moment Mrs. Redmond had stuck close to the dais, taking all the advantage possible of the inner course, but now, with a cry of bravado, she drove away to the outer limits of the course, ns if in contempt to give her rival a chance. The maneuver was seen by the audience and raised some applause from those who ndmired the audacity; but, before the hands had ceased to clap, a wild scream rose from the whole audience. The chariot wheel had caught in the leg of a tripod at the lower end of the arena, and had swung the horses right round and flung them down across the outer course, and in the next instant Nessa’s mare, keptdose in to the standarils, and going at the very top of her speed, dashed into the floundering horses of tlie chariot. Ft had happened in such n brief space of time that few actually saw what occurred; but as (’Esperance limped across the arena with an empty saddle, it was known to al) that Blue and White had i come to grief at last. ; She lay motionless on the tan. The color was still on her face, but a thin I stream of blood flowed from the corners of her lips, and when Fergus raised her shoulders her head fell back and her half-closed eyes were already glazed. “Oh, heavens!" he exclaimed, "that demon has killed her!”

CHAPTER XX. When Nessa opened her eyes again she awoke to iind herself lying in a strange bedroom. She could not make it out nt al). There were two windows facing the foot of her bed. The blinds were down, but the sun was bright upon them. Where was she? Clearly it was not her own room. It was much too neat nnd orderly for that. There were French hangings to the bed with a crisp, frilled edging. The window curtains were draped prettily—not nt all like her own, which were allowed to hang anyhow. She turned, with the resolution of waking up thoroughly nnd settling the questions that perplexed her; but at the first movement a dull pain in her side brought back a flood of recollections. Gradually her ideas grouped themselves into two distinct pictures —the arena, with the chariot sweeping round the course, and the ante-room, with its whitened walls and ceiling and flaring gas, and the circle of silent, awe-stricken men about her. She knew that ; her body was injured. She felt that it was encased in a rigid corset of some kind; and furtively she raised her arm, not without difficulty, to her face, with a horrible fear of finding that also crushed and disfigured. Slight as the movement was, it attracted the attention of her nurse, who sat near one ot the windows a little beyond Nessa’s

range of vision, reading. She cam* to the bedside—a young lady, not more than twenty-six, tall and thin, dressed with a simplicity that would have been severe on any one less gentle than she looked. Nessa felt like a little child— weak and powerless. She looked up gratefully into the kind face that was already fascinating her. They were dark, compassionate eyes—the beautiful feature in a face that had nothing else but its sweet expression to admire. “Where am I? Not in a hospital—no?” “No—you are in my rooms. And who am 1? you want to know; well, I am Grace Arnold.” “I don’t know you. I can’t remember your name in the program—Grace Arnold—there are so many of u».” “I am not in your company, dear/’ said Miss Arnold, laughing. “They wouldn’t have me. Look at me. Who would cojne to see me?” ’ She drew herself up. turning her face to the light that 'Nessa might see her. She was too thin, her teeth were irrsgular, her face was long, and her beauty, if she had any, not at all of the type found at the International; but Nessa thought she looked more lovable than anyone she had ever known. 1 “And if one is not very pretty,” continued Miss Arnold, “one must be clever, and I am neither. No, dear; I am nothing but Grace Arnold yet awhile," Something in the look of her face and the expression in those two last words seemed to indicate that she w.as ambitious of being something more. "Where is Mrs. Redmond? Why am I in your house?" Nessa asked, after a pause. “You needed attentive nursing—more than Mrs. Redmond could possibly give, and Mr. Fergus did not wish you to be taken to a hospital: so Mr. Meredith was good enough to bring you to me, knowing that I have nothing to do and that I am fond of nursing.’’ ■ “Who is Mr. Meredith?” Miss Arnold’s face flushed, and she seemed to find a difficulty in choosing words for her reply. "He is a doctor, dear —very wise and very kind and good and thoughtful. He was at the International when your accident happened, and happily he was able to be of great service to you. He knew what to do and what surgeon to send for, though I don't think anyone can be more clever than he, and I think you owe your life to him, dear.” “Am I—am I much injured?” Nessa asked, falteringly. “It was a very grave accident. A bone was crushed inward —there, at your side; And then you were taken with fever, and for many, many days you have been unconscious, lying like one in a troubled sleep. But he said you would wake to-day, and you have, and all the danger is passed, and you will get well again quickly if ” She stopped abruptly, for Nessa had caught sight of her own hand lying on the coverlet, and was now looking at it aghast as she held it up to the light. “Look! look!” said she, hardly above a whisper; “this is not my hand!” Miss Arnold cast a swift, scrutinizing glance at her face, fearing that the excitement of talking had produced a return of delirium. "Yes, dear, it is your own hand,” said Miss Arnold, taking it gently in her own. "You can feel mine, can't yau?” “But there is nothing of it. I could see my bones through the skin. Bring me a glass—bring me a glass’” cried Nessa, with terrible anxiety. Miss Arnold saw that the best thing she could do was to comply, and quickly brought a hand-glass, which she herself held before Nessa’s face. The girl looked in awe and wonder at her shrunken face, terrified by the wildness in her own eyeq, and then, pushing the glass away, burst into tears, covering her face with her emaciated hand. It was all over—her beauty was quite gone—-color and form, all gone! Nothing but two great eyes there, that stood out like some monstrous caricature. They would never take her back at the International. It was all over. She felt Miss Arnold’s soft fingers passing tenderly over her head, heard her sympathetic voice murmuring hopefully, but she could not take comfort. I't was too terrible to think that all the joy of life was lost, and she could think of nothing else. She fell asleep when her grief was exhausted. (To be continued.)

RUINS OF ANCIENT OPHIR.

Claims that the Rich Mines of Olden Tinies Have Been Rediscovered, Carl Peters, who arrived in London the other day from Africa, has given some further details concerning his discovery of what he believes to be the ruins of the ancient Ophir. He said that he had been exploring the country between the Zambesi and the Pung we in Portuguese East Africa and eastern Mashonuland. Before he started from England he had information which led him to believe that Fura was near the eastern entrance of the Lupata gorge. There he found it. It was situated on the banks of the Mulra River, about fifteen miles south of the Zambesi and halfway between Sena and Tete. At the time of his discovery he had with him Mr. Fuzey and two mining engineers, Mr. Gramann and Mr. Napoteki. Film was the native corruption of the word Afur, by which name the Arabs of the sixteenth century knew Ophir. He had ample proof that the Fura which they discovered and explored last summer was the Ophir of the old testament. The natives call themselves Makalanga, which means people of the sun. They were to tills day sun and fire worshipers. They were quite unlike the ordinary African and had a distinct Jewish type of face. On arriving in the district he soon found that the natives had some idea of the existence of the ancient Ophir. In fact, they washed gold themselves after the rainy season, and after storing It in quills did a fairly large trade In It with Beira and Tete. A chief gave him valuable information regarding the position of ancient workings, which he at once „ investigated. Going to the spot Indicated, he found ruins of undoubtedly Semitic type. Fura itself he found to possess a formation of quartzltic alate and diorite, between which gold reefs were runnine. The workings which he found were not only surface workings, bat shafts and roads hewn Into the roofed

TwiXt L’fe and f)eatb | 5 1 j s B: by H| FRANK BARRETT j|| TUmiuuuuiuuiuuiummuihuuuhumuuuuuiuiuiiiffiK

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued.) A light murmur of voices at the bedside caused her to open her eyes. A gentleman was standing beside Miss Arnold, who seemed to be talking about her; At first Nessa thought that he must be Dr. Meredith, but this opinion was shaken by his appearance. He did not look like a doctor—certainly not like the wise, benevolent, white-haired, elderly gentleman shs had figured from Miss Arnold's words. This gentleman was young—not more than thirty or thirty-two, tall and straight, bro.ad shouldered and deepchested, with short, close, curling hair, a beard trimmed to a point, and a long, fair mustache. He wore a gray jacket and a flannel shirt with a turn-down collar that showed his sunburnt neck, and his silk handkerchief was tied carelessly in a loose knot. In one hand he held a pot of lilies-of-the-valley; the other hand rested on Miss Arnold’s shoulder, as he listened attentively to what she said. It was more probSble that he was her brother by his manner, and, like her, had no fixed occupation. Still listening, he turned his head toward the bed, and seeing Nessa awake, smiled and nodded cheerfully. Now Nessa decided that he could not be her brother, for his eyes were a clear blue, and his complexion good, and every feature regular, and wonderfully handsome, in Nessa’s opinion. Perhaps he was Miss Arnold’s lover, and if he were, Nessa thought that they were well matched, for both looked »o honest and good. “These are for you, dear,” said he, giving the pot of flowers to Miss Arnold; ■nd then he came close to the bed, and taking up Nessa’s hand he held her pulse lightly under his fingers while he fixed his eyes intently on her sac own taking an expression of gravity that won Nassa’s admiration and respect. “Are you Dr. Meredith?” she asked. He nodded, still holding her hand, and then a smile breaking over his face, he •aid: “You'll do now, Miss Dancaster. It has been no end of a tough contest this time, but you’ve won again. I shall have good news for your friends to-day.” “My friends,” said Nessa, faintly; “oh! they have all forgotten me.” “Forgotten you!" exclaimed the young doctor, with a laugh. “Hand me that thing off the table, Grace.” Miss Arnold brought an ornamental basket from the table. “Look at these,” he continued, taking up a handeni of cards and letting them Blip through his fingers back into the basket. “That will show if your friends have forgotten you. We’ve had to muffle the door-knocker; they came in such numbers. Look at them,” stirring the cards with bis finger. “My friends would not know me now, would they?” A “We will put them to the test soon, I hope.” “Soon; yes,” she replied, eagerly, “but not yet awhile —not till I look nice again. That will be soon.” He answered her appeal with a cheerful nod. “When shall I look well enough to be back again?” “You may look well enough before you are able to sit in the saddle.” “But! shall be able to ride again. Not at once, but some day. Oh, do tell me that. I could not live if I thought I should never-never be anything but this. I am not so much injured—see;” she moved, and then bit her lip to conceal the pang it gave her. “We must make her wish to live,” said Dr. Meredith to Miss Arnold. And meanwhile, with the assistance of the money lender, Nichols, Mrs. Redmond had made good her escape and was living with his wife's mother in Hamburg.

CHAPTER XXL One day when Nessa had so far recovered that she could sit up in bpd with a little help, she awoke out of her afternoon sleep to find a stranger seated at her bedside in the place usually occupied by Miss Arnold. The stranger was a stout, motherly old lady, with a cap and French curls of white, silvery hair, a fresh complexion, a good-natured expression, and a pair of spectacles resting on the tip of her nose. She was knitting. A soft, white kerchief round her throat, fastened with an antique miniature brooch, set round with pearls, and a black silk dress, showed that she was by no means a common sort of person. “Good afternoon,” said Nessa. “Now I daresay you wonder who I am, and how I came here,” said the old lady, laying down her work. “Well, my name is Blount—and blunt’s my nature—and I’ve come here to take care of you while Miss Grace gets a little rest and exercise and fresh air. Now, would you like me to talk to yon?” j “If you could knit and talk at the same time,’’ suggested Nessa. “That’s a very sensible idea,” said she old lady. “Do you know, I’m most agree’bly surprised in you," she added. “You were a horse rider in a sukkus, for my dear boy. Mr. Sweyn, told me so, though I could hardly believe it when I •ee you asleep; and it’s still harder now I see your nice, honest eyes open, and hear your voice, and see how prettily you behave,yourself; and if they hadn't told me who never yet deceived me, even when I missed ’em as children—and children are little rogues, bless their hearts! •—there, I never could hive believed that ? r ou were anything but a regular young ady, born and bred.” “Don't you think a rider in a circus may be a lady?" “Well, they may, my dear; but in general I don’t think they are. I was nuss in a nobleman’s family for eighteen years, and nil my life I’ve lived in the very best society, but I never yet knew any young lady show herself off in short frockx. and jump through paper hoops, and carry on Meg's diversions of that kind.” “But I didn’t wear short frocks or jump through hoops.” -■

“Then I’m heartily glad to hear it, for I can’t think it.becoming to young persons at your time of life. My gracious! I think it would kill me to see my dear Miss Grace a-sthnding on one foot!” The idea of Miss Arnold in this condition almost frightened Nessa. “Ah, she’s an angel, she is,” pursued the old lady, with a shake of the head over her knitting; “and I suppose we ought to be grateful she is such; but I can't help wishing at times that she would go a-pleasurin’, like other young ladies, and take a’little more care of herself than she does of others. Has she told you of th'is now scheme of hers, my dear?” dropping her voice to a discreet undertone. “Not yet,” Nessa said. “No more she has me. She's one of those who don’t like to be praised, or even to let people know of the good they do. It's something to do with nussing. It means that she's going to give her time and her’fortune'to doing good to others. Well, she can't spend her money better, I suppose, than in such work; but I do hope she won't sacrifice health and happiness as well. A dearer gal never lived —nor a sweeter, nor a prettier, to my mjnd; and it do seem a pity—though I suppose I ought not to say so—that she can't be content to marry, and have a nice large family, and servants, and gardens, and all the pleasures of life. How is she to keep her husband comfortable, and look after her dear little children when they come, and enjoy herkelf going to operas, and Crystal Palaces,, and waxworks. and the south of France in the winter if she's got all these horrid hospitals and things on her mind?” “Miss Arnold is engaged to Dr. Meredith, is she not?” Nessa asked, “Yes. my dear,” she said in a confidential whisper; “you may say they've been engaged ever since they off pinafores. They’re bound to marry; and it’s high time they were, for my boy, Mr. Sweyn— I call him my boy because I missed him when he was quite a babe; and so I did my dear Miss Grace likewise, the families being related, you understand—well Sweyn is thirty-two, and Grace is seven-and-twenty come May; and so, as 1 say, it’s high time they married. But, you see, she is very rich, and he is very poor, his practice bringing him in next to nothing. and I suppose he would like to feel a little easier before he marries. For he's a rare manly fellow, as you must have seen; and I think it would fret him to keep up a position suitable to his wife’s bringing up, that he would have to pay for with some of her money.” - “I fear Miss Arnold has been sacrificing herself for me,” said Nessa, after a pause. “She has, my dear,” replied Mrs. Blount, with a most decided nod. “She's knocked herself out for your sake. I warrant you.’ve never found her away from your side when you've needed her. No. Night and day she has watched over you; and she wouldn’t have gone away this afternoon if I hadn’t come; and not then if you had been in any danger.” “Why?” asked Nessa, wondering. “She did not know me. She doesn’t know me now. I might be the most undeserving creature in the world.” “That wouldn't make a pin of difference to her; except that I believe she would care more tenderly for yon If she thought all the world despised you—bless her dear heart!” The old lady’s voice trembled, and laying down her knitting she raised her glasses and wiped away a tear. "It isn’t a craze with her. She’s not one of those poor miserable creatures in an everlasting fidget about their souls —like a neighbor of mine, with about sixpenn'worth of furniture in his house, who can’t rest o’ nights for fear of being burned out —who do right because it’s a duty. Her goodness comes natural, and is owing to nothing but the loving kindness of her heart; and there’s not a bit of fear or selfishness in it—that there ain’t. And now, as I look nt you with that sadness in your face, 1 shouldn't wonder if you're pining for some handsome young gentleman that you haven't seen all these weeks.”

. “No,” said Nessa, quietly. “Sure-ly you’ve got a sweetheart, dearie. 1 mean one that you like better than all the rest.” “No. There is not one that I care for more than another. No one that 1' care for at all in that way—as Miss Arnold cares for Dr. Meredith, for example.” “Then you ought to have, my dear,”’ said Mrs. Blount, emphatically. “Why, every young woman of your age ought to have a sweetheart. What have you been thinking about?’’ “Why, I suppose I have been thinking very much about something else,” Nessa answered, with a smile, thinking of the passionate delight she found in the arena. But the smile died away quickly, aud a heavy load seemed to press upon her heart. “I must not think of that," she said to herself, attributing the depression to a before-felt premonition that she should never return to the International. Still that weight lay upon her heart when she turned her thoughts to her friends, Grace Arnold and Sweyn Meredith, and pictured them together in the sunshine, happy in their mutual love.

CHAPTER XXH. One morning when Sweyn came to see Nessa, he held her wasted hand in his after tbeir customary greeting, and a look of trouble and anxiety came into his eyes as he looked down into her thin face. There was nothing of her, poor little thing! She was not getting on at all. She must be fretting about something, he said to himself. He seated himself, still holding the slight, soft fingers that seemed to cling to his broad palm in mute appeal for help to recover strength. “Do you sleep well?” he asked in a tone mellowed by sympathy. “Yes. It seems to me that is all that I can do now,” she replied, feebly. "At first I thought I could not live unless I went back to the arena, but now I think I may live, and yet not wish to run an-

other race. I can think of that Me atf good-by forever, now, without pain. He looked at her in silence, unable to understand this assertion, for her voice, her eyes, her lips belied Lt by their signs of suffering. “I have lost heart because I have lost strength—that is all,” she continued, add'ing, with deeper dejection, “I am only an ordinary girl.” “Only an ordinary girl,” he repeated to himself. “There’s pot such another in the world." Then after a pause he said aloud: “It would be an extraordinary creature who didn’t lose her courage with her strength—something more than hu l man’.” “No; not more than human,” she an-' swered. “If I had lived for others and not for myself—if I had some greater object in my life than the mere gratification of vanity—l should not lose heart. Miss Arnold would never lose courage; it is only we ordinary girls who give in like this.” "If you were only an ordinary girl you wouldn’t say such a thing as that.” Involuntarily his hand closed upon her fingers, and its warmth seemed to be imparted to her and send a thrill through her heart. "If you have anything on your mind, it’s always best to have it out with a friend, isn’t it? Grace could give you a lot of practical advice. I can only lay down the saw in a general way, you know. Talk to her as you have talked to me." But this was exactly what Nessa could not do. Physical prostration made her take an exaggerated view of her own moral weakness and Miss Arnold's strength, and while she considered herself nothing more than a frivolous, pleas-, ure-loving child, she exalted Grace to a position quite beyond that of even the best of women. A great gulf lay between them which, it appeared, could not be crossed without presumption on her part. It was not entirely Nessa’s fault that they stood apart. There was an instinctive repulsion on both sides. With the most earnest endeavor to efface herself and exercise charity in its broadest meaning, Grace eould not overcome certain antipathies due to her birth and the training of early life. She conscientiously sought to beat down the barrier of conventional prejudices which separated the refined and’sensitive lady from the public favorite of a vulgar exhibition. She neglected no opportunity of putting herself on the same level with Nessa and treating her as if they were equal iu all respects. Her intentions were sincere, but her kindest words lacked warmth of expression. Her most generous actions showed thought and care rather than the spontaneity which wins love. It grieved her deeply that thus was so, and that she could not love Nessa as Nessa deserved to bo loved, that her heart would not expand to her will, but, like a zoophyte, contracted the more when she tried to open it. It needed a slighter power of observation than hers to perceive that Sweyn and Nessa were more at their ease when she left them.. It was a relief also to herself to escape, and so the distance grew greater between them, but by such imperceptible degrees that neither Sweyn nor Nessa noticed it particularly. They might have seen a change in her had they been less happy in themselves. All three were blind in a certain sense. There was one person in the house, though, who saw what was going on clearly enough, and with growing dissatisfaction. and that person was Mrs. Blount. She lost a good deal of her natural good temper by not being able to speak her mind on the subject. She went about with her lips pursed tightly up, as if she feared to open them, lest the truth might come out. Whenever she found anything she might find fault with, she let off her displeasure on that. She grumbled at West Kensington, but she refused to go back to Brixton, though Grace assured her there was no longer any n<>ed of her, as Nessa could now almost do without help. "She’s not the only one who needs looking after,” said Mrs. Blount. "And I only hope I may not be wanted to miss you. gmile as you like —and I wish it was a happier smile—you are not right. You’re thinner than ever, and more serious and sad, and,” with pronounced decision, “you don’t laugh natural." (To be continued.)

THE AUDITORY SENSE.

Pedro de I‘once, a Benedictine monk of Spain, established a school for the deaf in 1570. The ears of the cuttle fish or octopus are located In the creature’s body, near to the base of the feelers. The hairs In the ear of a cat are so sensitive that If touched, as with a pencil, the animal shudders. Sea slugs not only hear, but a repaid by naturalists to emit sounds somewhat resembling the ticking of a clock. In 1870 the first deaf-mute clergyman was ordained. He was an Episcopalian, and the ordination took place in Philadelphia. Many deaf persons can hear music distinctly by placing one end of a cane upon the piano and holding the other to the teeth. Among many tribes of Africans the bored holes in the ears are so large that a stick an Inch in diameter can b* thrust through. Switzerland, to the million Inhabit- ‘ ants, has 2,620 deaf mutes, the greatest proportion of any country; next come, Austria with 980; then Germany with 770. Frogs and toads have remarkably acute hearing. The slightest noise la the vicinity of a pond will at once attract the attention of the frogs and put them on their guard. The vibrations collected by the external ear are passed by means of the tympanum through three small bones on to the Interior ear, where they are distributed to the nervous centers. / Tests of oil as fuel, made in the navy, have not so far proven satisfactory. Patent fuel, made of oil dust and tar, was found to yield nearly as good results as coal. A bicycle that In five minutes can be taken apart and packed In a bag 24x16 inches has been invented by an ingenious Frenchman. *