Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 November 1900 — Page 6

'Twixt Life and Death

BY FRANK BARRETT

CHAPTER XXVll.—(Continued.) “She knows me—she knows that I could never love anyone but you, and gave me credit for more steadfastness .than you would allow me, though she has had less proof of my love than I have given you. You thought I could forget you, and ran away in the belief that afjter a little while I should cense to think iof you. ft is strange,” he added, after |i pause, ‘“that after thinking of you With such yearning tenderness all these past weary days, I should, tell you of 1 your faults when wo meet, I am like a mother recovering her lost child—the first instinct is to scold it for the pain It has given ” ‘T am glad to be scolded. I deserve punishment—scold me!”— ■ “I have done—that is the first impulse; the next,” he added; tenderly, ‘‘in to hag you to my breast and make you feel how 1 do love you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently. They were alone on the steps loading down into tlie garden. Nessa, at the touch of hist lips, felt that nidhing in the fworld was worth a thought beside such Hove as his, nnd, with that impulsive selfabandonment which was characteristic of her nature, impatient of self-restraint, (turned to him with a coo of delight, and, laying her cheek against his breast, looked up into his face as she murmured: “My own dear love! I, too, will keep before nil others that law which binds us Jieart to heart, nnd I will never, never leave you again!" That night Nessa burned her certificate carriage with fti 'hard Jchderwertr. as Ishe looked at the piece of paper before [putting it in the flames, she said to herpelf that virtually she was still free to (marry Sweyn—that the mere signing of her name could not make her the wife of that other man; and, to silence the objections of her whispering conscience, she repeated again and again Sweyn’s unconsidered words, “Which is wrong—to break man’s law or heaven’s?” And thus they were married a few days later, nnd ns a wedding present Robert Meredith, the groom’s brother, put into Nessa's hand a receipt from the trustees ■of a late eminent physician in Ormond gtreet for a check paid by him for the transfer to his brother Sweyn of the practice, together with the fine house and splendid furniture in Ormond street. CHAPTER XXVIII. One morning Johnson, the man servant, came to Nessa and said: "If.you please, mum, there’s a pusson svnnts to see you a female.” “What does she want?" asked Nessa, ever ready to take alarm, despite her resolution. “She says it’s private affairs, mum.” “Where is she?” “Well, mum, site's on the doorstep at present. Sue looks such a very shady pusson—if you’ll excuse me—that I didn’t think it safe to leave her in the hall with the humhorellas.” “Did she give any name?” “Redman—Mrs. Redman, I believe she tailed herself, mum.” Nessa had purposely turned to the table on which she was arranging flowers as she put the question, and it was well she did so, for her face Os she heard the reply would have furnished gossip for the kitchen had Johnson seen it. “Not at home, mum," the man suggested, as Nessa stood silently fingering the flower before her. With an effort Nessa forced herself to answer in a steady voice: “I will come down,” she said; "show her into the morning room." As the door closed behind the man, Nessa turned from the table, the flowers slipping from her fingers nnd scattering on the floor unnoticed by her. "At last— at last!" she gasped. “Oh, heaven, give me strength and guide me, for T am weak, and know not what to do!” The woman was inconceivably altered. Her dress, nnd the remnants of flashy finery upon her, were frayed, mud-stain ed, faded, and puckered with exposure to rain; her hair had returned to its natural hue and texture of dull tow; she had made no attempt to "make up” n face that bore a vindictive, sinister expression. "What do you want?" Nosua asked, with horror in her hushed voice. “I’ll tell you what I want directly. Give me your hand.” “No; keep away from me. You are my enemy; I know it. If yon come near me I will —” "You will have me put out of doors. That's what you meant to say, only you thought better of it. Yon daren’t do It. You’re afraid of ine, or you wouldn’t have let me In to your fine house. You could come to me fast enough when you needed help, but when I not'd a lift you can think about turning me out in the «treet. That’s your gratitude for all I’ve done. Look at me! T came out of the hospital yesterday. I’ve spent the night In the streets, and my last coppers went for a bite to keep body and soul together this morning. Don’t imngine I want your pity. I’d soouer be carried to the workhouse than ask you for charity. I come here to take what you owe me.” “What I owe you?" "That’s it. When I gave up my house and everything to help you. I gate you half I had. I saved your life. I saved you from beggary. I put you into the International, and was a willing atepping •tone to your present position. We sgreed to share whatever fortune came to ns. L have kept my part of the agreement; now you’ve got to keep yours." “Yon shall have half of my fortune whea it ia mine to give.” “Oh, that game’s up. I’ve been fool enough to play for those stakes while I thought I could play the game out, ljj| I'm not such a fool as to go on at it now. I shall be dead in six months. They me leas than that at the hoapital; I’ll lire six months with care sad fee aoaajr to buy what I kaaw wiU kaa»

me alive. If you were to offer me the whole of ypur fortune —when you get it, and signed a paper to bind you to it, which is more—l wouldn’t change it for what T mean to get out of you now.” “I have nothing,” Nessa said, extending her hands in despair. “Nothing!” croaked the woman, choking with fury, for she had actually worked herself up to believe in her own false representations. "Nothing! You dare tell me that, with those rings on your fingers. Understand me —I’m not a fool, and hot to be cheated. You’ve caught this swell doctor, and I'm going to have my share of the plunder. We go halves —do you hear? halves! And now, we’ll begin the division. Give me one of those gem rings and that wedding-ring. You can replace that witli the other oue---yoit don't want two.’l Nessa shook her head in speechless dismay, clasping the rings Sweyn had given her, and which she would not part with for all the world. “Whnt! you stick at a trifle like that,” pursued Mrs. Redmond. “You must be pretty dense if you don’t understand me, for I speak plain enough. I tell you I’ll have half of everything you have. For convenience, I’ll take it in installments, but I won't leave this house till I've got stuff to make up for the weeks and months of misery I've been brought to through you.” Nessa saw no possibility of escape; she turned to the door in silence. Something in the look of her eyes alarmed Mrs. Redmond. “What are you going to do?” she asked, stepping forward bastil y And set Li uglier foot against the door. “I am not going to do„ what yon want me to do,” Nessa replied, without faltering; “that is impossible. What 1’ shall do,” she added with dreamy wonder—“what I shall do I know no more than you. But I shall know when Dr. Meredith returns.” “What! does'he know you’re Anderson’s wife?” asked the woman, in her turn dismayed. Nessa looked at her in silent scorn. "What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Redmond, impatiently. “I shall tell him all." Mrs. Redmond looked vexed. Delicate sensibilities were quite beyond her comprehension; but she had the sense to see that she had gone too far in her furious determination to extort blackmail, and that if she did not restore hope and confidence to Nessa, her own gain would be of an unpleasant kind. She had a pretty sound conception that Dr. Meredith would not content himself with merely turning her out of his house; he would more likely detain her until the police took her in charge for further examination.

“Come, come,” whined the woman, setting her head aside with abject entreaty in her unhealthy face, “don’t look at me like that. I know I’ye gone too far, and said things I didn’t mean; but you must make some allowance for my misery and need. You see what a poor, miserable wretch I am,” she pleaded, catching at the pity that dawned in the girl’s face. “Heaven knows I don’t want to upset you, and part you from this nice, kind doctor—why should I? My only hope of escaping from the workhouse and living a few months depends on my getting a little help from you. Why, I hung about the corner of the street over an hour, not to call on you till 1 saw the dqetor was well out of the way in his carriage. Look here, don’t you think of telling him, if it’s to put an end to yonr happiness and bring you to shame. Why should you? You were oftly half married to Anderson, nnd that half can’t be legal, as he was out of his miud. I take my oath I didn't know it then. Look at me—it's such misery as mine you plunge yourself into by giving way to this foolish impulse. You always were impulsive—you know you were—and repented It afterward. And if you are really fond of this doctor, you may think that it won’t be a very pleasant thing for him ” “I am thinking of him,” Nessa said. “Well, look how it would damage him in his profession—a scandal of this sort!” Nessa assented, but she was not think* ing -of the scundal or professional position, but of how he would sit alone In his room at night, and the grief that would wring his heart. Nessa received money for housekeeping; more than she needed. With pride she had shown Sweyn the surplus left after paying the week’s bills, and he had told her to put it by for a rainy day. Well, surely, she thought, he could not object, if he knew it, to her giving what she had to supply the needs of this woman. She put her hand In her pocket nnd produced the purse in'whicb she kept this surplus. “I think I may give you this; it is all I have.” Mrs. Redmond snatched it hastily. “At present—but you’ll have some more for me, won’t you?” she said, opening the purse. There was gold inside. "Don’t look frightened. 1 shan’t come again for n long lime, not till this is nil gone. And I shall take precious good care to come when It’s quite safe. That reminds mo that I’d better go before tho servants get curious. Yon can tell your husband in their hearing that I’m an old servant of yours. Now I'll be off.” And ns she opened the door, she croaked loud enough to tie heard by any listening servant, and with a wink at Nessa, “I’m deeply grateful for your kindness, Mrs. Meredith, ma’am. And if ever you should want anyone to help in the house, I shall be •nly too glad to come; you know I waa never above a bit of houest, hard work.” Round the corner of the street she Joined Cummings. He stood there waiting for her, seedy and down at heel, with his hands in his pockets and a hang dog look in his face. “Well, how did you get on—what have you got out of her?" he asked, falling In with her quick pace. “Four or five shillings—that’s all," she answered, gloomily.

"Welt, what’s to Ik- done? I’ve ruined myself through this wretched affair.” “I’ll tell yon what must be done.' 1 We must go for the big stakes. Yon know—we must do what we were talking abont last night. Have you been round to the mansions?” “Yes:” “Weil?” “Hexham’s still thcrc.^ “And the madman?" “Yes.” “Then we must do it!" CHAPTER XXIX. When Sweyn returned from his round that afternoon Nessa met h!m in the hall, and leading him into his own room, said: “I want to tell you at once, love, something that has happened while you were away. The woman I lived with at the time of my accident ” “Mrs. ijerrivaie?” “Yes; she called upon me. She is very ill, very poor, and she has no friends or occupation. She wanted money, and I gave her all I had.” “And so you need some more to go on with, eh?” he suggested, cheerfully. “Oh, no, no, no! The money you let me have for the week is upstairs. I only had my purse with the savings T have made in my pocket. I gave her that.” “Well?” lie said, interrogatively. “That is all I can tell yon, love,” she answered, nervously, stroking his hand as she looked into his face with sad, serious ?yes. Ho laughed nnd hugged her to his side. "Why, you dear, mysterious little soul, that’s nothing. I thought yon had something terrible to relate; that solemn, grave, beautiful face tilled nte with all sorts of apprehensions. You don’t regret giving your savings, do you?” “No; but I felt that I must tell you all — all that I could tell you.” “Believe me, I want to know no more than that, dear wife. But we will not dismiss this subject without another word. I should think Mrs. Merrivale would call on you again. It’s natural she should, you know.” His eyg twinkled. “That sort of thing is liable to become tedious to you, and it must be uncomfortable to her whenever she calls to accept gifts. Now, don’t you think it would be more pleasant for all parties if we lent her a certain sum to invest in a small business.that, would give her occupation and restore a feeling of independence?” “Sweyn, Sweyn—dear, dear, generous Sweyn!” she sobbed, winding her arms round his neck, and with closed eyes drawing his face down to hers. She was exuberantly gay after this little scene. It seemed as if forgiving heaven were smiling upon her, and all the clouds rolling away over the horizon. Anderson, Hexham and Cummings all gone; Mrs. Itedmond settled and content as she must be with the liberal provision promised by Sweyn—what was there to fear? Nothing could trouble her peace; no shadow fall upon this happy future. Unfortunately, Mrs. Redmond did not know of the good fortune awaiting her. By ignoring the good policy of truth and candor she could not foresee the happy turn taken through Nessa’s departure from her counsel. Nessa was anxious to impart the good news to her—to make known her dear Sweyn’s generosity. A fortnight passed; Mrs. Redmond made no sign. Nessa took that ns a sign of the woman’s moderation and became more and more convinced that her peril was past—poor fool! She had a room of her own, but she preferred Sweyn’s study when she was not puzzling very hard over some self-impos-ed task. She was now forever striving to “improve” herself. l’n her husband’s study she eould feast her eyes on the evidence of his prodigious acquirements in the rows of scientific books he understood, and the curious eases of instruments on the shelf which at one time she shuddered to look at. She was seated in his chair one afternoon when Johnson came in by the door from the passage. “If you please, mum, there are two pnssons to see the doctor—males; and they wish to knotv how long it will be before he’s in.” (To be continued.)

NEED A CHECKING SYSTEM.

British Railway! Behind Contemporaries in Transporting Luggage. A well-filled train drew Into Victoria station and the passengers crowded around the huge pile of luggage, pulling and hauling with the porters at trunks, lings and bundles of rugs, says the London Dally Mail. A tall, middle-aged gentleman picked up a black leather steamer trunk, holding it by one end. At the other end of the box was a lady, who said, “Kindly drop this box, it is mine.” “I beg your pardon, madam,” retorted the tall man, “I am sure it is mine.” They put down the box and examined it, but It bdre no distinguishing marks. Just then a third claimant picked it up nud proceeded to drag it away, and he in turn was stopped by a young man who protested loudly that the trunk was ills; and he proceeded to prove It by turning the box over and showing three intlal letters painted on the leather strap on the side. Even then the third claimant failed to show satisfaction, and the dispute nearly ended in fisticuffs. These scenes, which are not Infrequent, created much consternation and astonishment among the foreigners, who constituted the majority of the passengers. They were loud In their complaints of the manner In which British railways neglect their passengers’ luggage, never forgetting, however, to charge for carrying ,lt. The advent of the “Twopenny Tube,” with all its modern improvements, will probably have the effect of stimulating the other railway companies to better things, and the traveling public may some day be most agreeably surprised to leant that the simple system of luggage checking, which Is used even In Haiti, ha* been adopted in England.

Tread Lightly.

"Hush, not so loud! We’re having a conference of the power*. ’ “Eh! Who Is conferring?" "My wife, uiy mother-lu-law nnd tha cook.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. f.— ... _ A burglar stole fffOO from a resident of B\i. Paul, tftae next day ha returned that snm and S2DO to boot

Thanksgiving 1900

AN OLD-TIME THANKSGIVING.

WANT an old T hanksglvtng, when lire was well worth living, And we all went down to grandma’s on the dear old farm, you know; Pertiaps It might be blowl ng, perhaps It might be snowing, * But we never thought of weather on

Thanksgiving long ago.

Chare were uncles, annts and cousins, by the sixes and the dozens. There was such a groaning table, the entest roasted pig, There were puddings, pies end cherries, and apple tarts and berries. And doughnuts, cake and raisins, and turkeys ell so big. Aad they did not serve in courses, and postprandial discourses Were not so much hi fashion, but the stories hud their share Of the old-time pioneering, of the heartiness end cheering Of the sympathetic neighbor, and the Indian and the bear. And we found the apple cider and the old potato slicer, Ana the bins for all the apples, and preserves nnd pickled pears, And we ranged the gloomy garret; we were very brave to flare It, But the box of maple sugar and dried fruit were up the stairs. And sround the barn wo rollicked, and through the lofts we frolicked, And we ranged the turnip cellar, and we tumbled In the straw, And we heard the cattle munching, and the lowing and the crunching, And we climbed along the mangers where the horses fed, with awe. O that was a Thanksgiving that was worth * year of living, And hearts seemed so much truer and life so smooth In flow; Aad friends somehow were nearer, and gloved ones so much dearer, when we went down to grandma’s for Thanksgiving, long ago.

Dick’s Thanksgiving Dinner.

BY JOSEPHINE VOSS.

r» ATE on the day before ThnnksgivJLa * n * boys wore returning after y a day spent in the wood, and all were in high spirits. They had succeeded ia trapping a rabbit, which was now slang over Dick Morris’ shoulder in sportsmanlike fashion, for to him was lias most of the credit of capturing it, aad hs felt very proud. "What are you going to do with the rabbit, Dick?” Edward Whitt asked, gaming admiringly at It. "Yes, that's It,” exclaimed Archie Rhodes, “what will be done with it? Somebody tell.” "Why, cook it, of course,” said Dick, and then a happy thought struck him. “Oh, I’ll tell you what, fellows. We’ll Sava it for dinner to-morrow. What did wo catch It for if we diua't want to use k?” And glowing with pride, he gave all the boys a hearty Invitation to dinner at his home the next day. “It’s a go!” shouted Fred Miller; 'it’s a gol I’ll come early In the morning so's to be on time.” With a burst of pleasure hie companies! joined him in accepting the Invitation. and then all went homo to dream of Che morrow’s feast when they would partake of the spoils of the day’s adventao s e s s e s e “Did you bring anything from town for 9m Thanksgiving dinner?" Mrs. Morris

rooTBAU. PLAYER- | CAN SEE YOUR FINISH?** t WONDER WHAT MINE WILL BE.

was saying to her husband as Dick stepped in the door. Mr. Morris laughed. “Did I bring anything? Ha! ha! I brought a thirty-five pounder. I sold the colt this afternoon and turned all the money over to Pritchard and that just raised the mortgage on our home. I tell you, I was mighty thankful, and I thought we’d celebrate the occasion ’mong ourselves with the biggest turkey we could get. How’s that?” he said, holding the fowl at arm’s length. “Couldn’t we have a rabbit, too?” Dick suggested as he laid his bundle on the table. “Mercy sakes!” exclaimed his mother, “where did you get that?” With reluctance Dick told how in the spirit of fun he had trapped the rabbit

"OH I N W W A I L DO.”

and how Fred Miller’s father had skinned and dressed it for him, and how he had invited all the boys to dinner. “Well,” said his father, “I don’t mind havin’ the boys come, but plain, everyday turkey’s all they’ll get and that’s good enough for anybody. There won’t be any frills on our dinner. And look ahere," he added sternly, “I don’t 'prove of your trappin’ rabbits for fun.” Dick was deeply disappointed and soon went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep, and in the dead of night be stoic out of his room. “This is a nice fix,” he said. If he hadn’t invited the boys, he wouldn't have cored. How would he tell them of the change in the menu of the expected feast? He simply couldn’t do It, that was all. By the light of the moon that came in the window he saw on the table before him the nimble,little animal that he had captured lying by the aide of the big turkey, which had been mode ready for the oven and was fairly bursting with delicious dressing. "Oh, I know what I’ll do! There!” he said, ns he unfastened the stout cord that bound the bulging aides of the turkey, scooped out the dressing, stuffed the rabbit in the ample cavity and fastened the cord again. “We’ll have the rabbit anyhow, but nobody will know till It’s cooked.” Then he went back to his room. When he awoke In the morning the first thought that struck him was that his mischievous prank might spoil tbs whole dinner. Yes, he was sure it would. He had never heard of sach articles of food being cooked together and he became badly frightened. He hastened to undo his work of the night, but It was too late. The turkey, with Its strange consort, was already roasting to a nice brown in the oven. He felt very sorry and when ths boys came he took them aside and told them everything.

“Say, that’s the jolliest kind of fun,” Archie laughed. “I’m glad T came!” “So am I,” put In Edward. “What’» the matter, Dick? You don’t seem to enjoy this.” Dick thought only of the spoiled dinner and what hi* parents would say when they discovered his trick. Soon dinner was ready, and the guest* were seated. Then came the vital moment Sir. Morris took his place at the head of the table and was about to cut the turkey. “I wonder what he’ll say when he pull* the rabbit out,” Fred whispered to Archie Rhodes. “Guess he’ll wonder what the turkey swallowed,” was the humorous answer, and then both laughed. “Cut that turkey, Sam,” Mrs. Morri* said to her hnsband; “what are you waiting for?” Mr. Morris looked around at the smiling faces of his guests, then dug the knife deep into the savory fowl and suddenly stopped. “Sairy!” addressing his wife, “you ” The boys burst into a fit of laughter. Dick turned & deep crimson and stood up: "She didn't do it; I did it,” he confessed. “Sairy,” Mr. Morris repeated, ignoring his son, “you burned the gravy. I smell it.” “No, I didn't. There! Pass the dressing around.” With a spoon he scooped the delectable filling of bread crumbs and chopped sausage nnd chestnuts out of the breast of the fowl, piled it on the plates, which were then passed around Each boy stared in astonishment ns he received his plate, and the meal began in silence. “And now, boys," Dick’s father said with a smile, “when you’re finished with that we’lt fetch in the rabbit." And sure enough, it was brought in, covered with rich brfown gravy and slice* of lemon. “Won’t we have a feast, though!” he exclaimed, looking at Dick. But this was too much of a surprise for Dick, nnd he hardly knew what to say. When the dinner was fairly started hi* father arose to make a speech while Mrs. Morris tried to repress a smile. “As this is a day of thanksgiving," he began, “we’ll all give thanks. First, ’cause the mortgage is all paid now, and second 'cause by a lucky streak the rabbit got cooked alone. It was discovered. Just in time. When two strange Wet are found sticking out of a turkey where it ain’t held together, 'tain’t hard to gues* what's happened, especially when all the dressin's left In a bowl right beside it and everythin’, generally, looks aa If it had been done in the dark. But seeln’ ’at you'd captured the poor little thing and wanted it so bad, we just thought we’d fix It op and serTe it to-day, hopin' that in the future yaou’ll never trap any * more.” All laughed heartily as Mr. Morris concluded. For the first time that day Dick’s mind was relieved of its great burden nnd he Joined in the merry laughter. He never heard the end of hit trick, but a* his parents had taken it so kindly be respected their wishes and never again Indulged in the sport of trapping rabbit*.

Chestnut Stuffing.

Get two quarts of large French chestnuts. Shell and boil them until the skins are softened. Then drain off the water and remove the skins. 801 l three pints of the chestnuts again until soft. Then press through a colander. Season with one and a half tablespoonfuls of butter, on* and s half tesspoonfnls of salt and a quarter of a teaspoonful of pepper. If moist staffing Is desired, add three tablr spoonfuls of'eream.