Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 26, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 26 December 1874 — Page 6

-r

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

CHRISTMAS BAB Y. mr yfOACAmxtcm, Author of "Farm Ballads." fNrteome, little bonny bird, toaldnH ha, come ja*t when tw'aia

Teimes lire bad." -^Wd English BaUad.

«ooiS ye utile rascal ye ecane It Oil me this

Crowding V«Tself amoagat w* this blusterln' wlnwr%4iTi Knowin' that we already have three or ye. An* tryin* to nwk# ywidlout ChristniM iraent o* Heaven Teaofyehave we now, Ik- tbta worM AV Roblrtehehave no waistcoat, «*'Kellie •he have no shoe*, An.' ftamtnie hsve no shirt* to hi* sharae,) An' the one that was^ost before yewealal had time to mine! An'ail o' the banks be sniashiw', an'onus

An' ^wh^wh Utiee the wage* when work* wbe bid at all ... .... An* ltom ho have out hi* foot oftt *!i lies in awoful plight, An* all of ns wondcw at mornm as wbat we shall «st at night! An' bat for your tether an'Huniy a-ftndln' aornn what to tfo. An* bat for the preacher's woman, who often help1* o« through, An' butter your poo* dor mother a-uom h^r pwrt* YtV'aMMi US ail in heaven albreye was ready to Mart *. An* now yr have eoraeye rascal! so healthy

A-wetgbln' ru waifer' a dollar, the ft'il of a

X*e»

in fun.

YeUllke us when ye know us, although we're cur' us folks £ot We don't get much victual, an' hair our

Uvln'Is jokes!

f^hj, boy, did ye take me in earnest come, »tt upon my knee flltell y© a itecret, youngster—111 name ye after me, V© shall all havs yer brothers aa' sister* ,wlth ye to play, And ye shall have yer carriage and ride out everyday? Why, boy, do yo think yell suffer? J'm w'ttfn* a trifle old, Bat if *11 be many year* yet before I lose my

An' if i'should fall on the road, boy, still, them's ywbrother'H them. An* not a rogue of them would see ye harmed a hair! 4Sayl when ye come from heaven, my little Did ye. et, 'mongst tW little girls there, a fcce like this one here t•That was yer little sister—she died a year

An'alFctf us cried like babies when they laid her under the snow! Han^lt! If all the rieh men I ever see or

CVmo b*re with all their traps, boy, an' offered VM

for yon,

I'd show 'em to the door, Hir, so wiuick thfty'd think It odd, Before I'd sell my Christmas gift ^aQod

DID SHE DIE?

I°mu!rt

CHAPTER I FOWiOWINO UP THE CLUE.

Millv pressed her hands to her fore bead, and sat down to think, John Raytnoud leaning against the mantle-piece and with commendable forbearance, waiting patiently until she looked up and spoke to him once more. Perhaps tie felttbat she needed time to get over the shock bis revelation had given her.

Bat she was not as much surprised as be evidently expected that ahe would be, although she was conscious that this confirmation of her brother's former as«ertk»n that Olympia Errington still lived had given her a sharp pang, rancy pictured the long-standing mystery solved—tho estranged wife restored to the arms of her rejoicing husband and then Milly slopped to ask herself whether Mr. Errington would realiy be reioleed to leant that the wife whom he haul lost in the prime of her youth and beanty was returning to him, no longer beautiful, and with the gull of twenty years lived apart to He between them always. Would he turn to thto long-ab-aent one for advice or consolation in his hours of sorrow, awl clsap her in his arms, and call her bin dear little comforter, as he bad to Milly herself no* tn* since? WouldhebeMhapw wito Olympia now as he had learned to be

not dwell npon these things,"

aha said, suddenly. "1 must endeavor ao fee! tW whatever is right, and will iuBw to be for the bwU"

John Raymond did not ask her wl»t meant, but came nearer, and law lala hand on her shoulder.

That's nay brave little woman! Don flMnk «f anything jort now but what ought to be done eltbw to reunite thin strangely severed husband wd wife, or

ten's nednd is aflfecied, to placw ler in aafer keeptog than her own. She Isnoitrndl no—no! row Mtl^{y, with wtich vehemence, that her brothiVxelttimed, diwitly:

Then you hatro seen ber? When r—• «l ham »een her, If it i* possible for any dlag«ifln, any ravages of disssae, to *rans^ nw«dbeauty, whose mit*

'tatur* Mr. KrrlngtoP onoe showed nm, into such a plain, nomely and unpleasant looki iif Vorewi mM* one who nursed Mr. Durrani.'"

the

gpjSS"}.

!day

nrrtf^l

Mr. MlBllMf -^»r«Orr (nrtefonJttes*»«*yr

asswsisr

ail

MOW, S' that the W1 iSmUU t! ii

indifferent to^ach other as they appeared. It fc a sad case, Miliy, batoor duty is plain we mug* tell Mr.Srring^ft s|i we know and suspect. Do y« think Rupert I* with his mother?" 'Mtfhe la, she must haje deoeived him with seme false tale reflecting diMjedit on iLia.Jlstber. But surely she could not do anythiug so base as tlilaT

John Raymond pointeti to the note. «It is pretty clear that the mother and son had an interview on the evening in question, and that Rupert only returned to the bouaa to put a few clothes together and teare It again."

And his fiither, deserted by both, lie« broken fa Spirit as mtroh as in health, by the thought that his son has been tempted Into the crime of which I is neighbors are pointing to him aa the guilty doer."

John Raymond cogitated awhile,Milly anxiously watching hire. Axe you geingbaok to Leabanks tonight, little woman? Then go before it grows later, and leave me to find away out of the mase if I can." "If you can!" she cried, in tones of nUsmsy. "Oh, John! if you talk in such a hopeless strain I shall lose heart

|OQ

«Wff— ye,

With yer mother** *ye« era flesh an' baud. An* a good big mouth an* stomach all ready fo? to be filled

No,no! doot cry, my Ijaby hush up, my pretty one! Oont get my chaff in yer eye, boy—I only

VMJu«t

Milly spoke.,jf Wilfred with the warmest praise, and related his generous ohampionship on the day of Mr. Durrant's funersl.

Humph I I'll make bis acquaintance. He may be a useful assistant in the quest I must set on foot, especially if he is as trustworthy ss yop .describe him. Bu*, by Jove! that is (leorgie's step on the stairs, so off with you, if you don't wast to share the .wigging there is in store for them."

Milly gave him a hasty embrace, and avaitea herself of a Side door to escape before the entrance of her deeply-ofltend-ed sister-in-law. It was a dark, cold rids back to Lea banks: but she had been so greatly cheered by her conference with her brother—in whom her faith was unbounded—that she presented herself before the sisters with a brighter face than she had worn for sometime.

Katie, who refused to be considered an invalid, although her cheek had lost its oolor, and her eyes were dull and hollow, sat crouching over the fire, with a book on her knees, which she pretended to read but it was only to avoid being drawn into conversation by the more restless Maude, who had been wandering about the room ever since Wilfred's departure, unable to settle to anything.

She was oppressed with her joyful secret, bat could not find courage to reveal it until Milly drew her down beside her, as she seated herself opposite Katie. ..

Maude thanked her with a hug, and seeing that this demonstration excited a little surprise, she began to make confession. "Ah! Miss Raymond, I have been longing for you to return! You are so dear—so bind a friend, that I know you will feel interested in what I have to tcli you*" "At such a prelude, Milly looked still more astonished, and Katie raised her heavy eyes, to gaze at her sister's glowing cheeks and smiling mouth but Maude averted her face, and laughingly implored them to spare her blushes. "It is something about Rupert! Katie exclaimed, clasping ber hands together, and growing pale with agitation.

She has heard from him—he is coming back to her!" You are mistaken I wish I had news of Rupert to give you," Maude answered, more soberly, "though I cannot understand why you arc all so grave and troubled because he has taken it in his head to leave usswhile. What I have to tell you is about myself. Sorely you care to hear what concerns tho whole of my fature life

Katie sat in an attitude of eager expectation, but did not speak. It wss Milly, who, beginning to guess the young girl's secret, softly assured her that she would find attentive and sym-

Ethetic

listeners both in her sister and

1 did not mean to make all this frtss over my strange tidings, or great and joyful revelation, or whatever else you choose to tall it, ing at her own

P,»Wilfred

w|Mmt

tJon is too for

•ii,

tvu

t©©wim my And vet I turn toe aratw tver

IJ-

(a!

Ts botuwloir identity ,or

n" too marwKwi*

ujv in.iul. (tv HiOTH CWlViSCfl

MM thai tl»ifichtly tosStfe 11. the y»r«

door af a« .wnfluMwlaef#*!

thP a on sntvsh

ttas swr.^»f|p» June

*,n', SM'i ii'** ?v.

'JpW *rfcl ho pnmIsSu. a jLa-:r.iiti shut sht mm mf* match, i*at Jmtm Itoytwml ih bawved 1 v«

.w^sr«srs

W"«£8a$lmy

Thii-k of poor Mr. Erring-

I am thinking of him. To clear his honor will be i»y first and greatest consideration."

Milly rose, and, with big tears streaming down her ikoe, kissed her brother, who slowly and thaughtfully proceeded

this ^i'e must find out whe set

fire to the cabinet this shall be my task. Youre must fcwto stay quietly at Leabanks, silencing the oensorious by giving oneering bulletins of Mr. Bitington's Mate, fixing a day for Rupert's return—we'll have him back before it arrives. trust me—and persuading the Misses Lesden to resume their ordinary habits but above all, remember to keep your eyes and ears open, and send me every scrap of news, good, bad, or indifferent, that teaches you. By the by, what sort of a fellow is that young Hayle with whom Rupert Errington basalways been so intimate?"

cried Maude, laughhesitation. "Why do

you not gness my riddle for me, and" put me out of my misery? Oh! yon disagreeable creatures to compel me to tell you outright that I have just done a very foolish or a very wise thing,I'm not snr« which, and promised to eschew flirting for ever, and marry the philoao-

Hayle! Impossible 1" her

sister exclaimed. "Solshould have said only y«*ter day." Maude answered, more composediy. "But sensible men eommlt rash aks sometimes, and I shall have to do my best to prevent poor Will from re-

MUly Raymond, when she had wroome her astonishment, biased and eongrstuJated the bride-efort with all the warmth of her nature,, and prognosti-

nstnllllng fntare for Mr with such a trood attd upright young man: but Katie «al so mute, that #t last ber slater turned to her with pMyful ujpbraldings.

What I not one word of efi her blame [. i.«• to bestow on me? Iio you beurud^ »»a my good fortune In winning brave a lover?"

I cannot und^nrtand it!" s«fiJR^%

bewildered than ever. Wilfred Itayle your deoland lover I always thought that Rnpeit-— Oh! Maude, «mn ym» have bnen cruel enough to Jilt

whatareyon dressing alwmt?

He and 1 hav» **m heen mom than

ill'the |»rwi-1 friends. Sntely y®tt k*xm that," ^Sn^MfSr«£S«^Mly ifyoa had nSt mtookifim will as min* by .vottr fiftlj

What have I done?1' Mauds

i!y«ttlovsd Mm,

li unworthy tb,' I believwlyotu I ha*» ished npori fcsr! thatyoa ho|w4 afid inteaded tolMhis ®**l'*?i ^balAerei a noaas*#! when I first mao to Lenbanka," Wmfa admitted: "bat I meant no harm. Dwr*

I est Kstki, you have hem sadly In fflffrer if mm him tmetod thsl I wasevtHTafitiariied to Rupstt. Bfm iran whom he liked, best frt»»

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

him. Do you not recollect how I attempted to play the mediator when yon first treated him with coldness, and how sharply yon tnrned upon and silenced me?" ....

Because I theaght it wss jealousy dictated your questions, and reaolved that I would never-never be the oause af any unhappinf ss to my sister.

Maude threw her arms around the

fenlt for coquetting and

jesting so thoughlessly but forgive me, dear, tor indeed I never meant to make ao much mischief! Ah! Katie, darUng, not even Wilfred's love will content me If I see you so sad, and know that it is through me."

But Katie's heart was losing its oppressive load already. She had been so thoroughly imbued with the idea that her sister, beneath her gay,careless manner, concealed an affection for Rupert Errington equal to her own, that she had striven hard to banish his image assuring herself that it was her duty to avoid mm till he returned to his alle-

Cever

ce to Maude, and forgot that ao addressed words oflove to her-

The sisters were still clasped in each other's arms, all coldness—all reserve banished for ever, and Milly, half-smil-ing, yet a little sorrowful, was thoughtfully regarding them as tbey murmured their confidences to each other, when some one stepped into the room, and came slowly toward them.

Thev were so engrossed In the interesting subject of Wilfred Hayle's courtship, that supposlug it to be a servsnt with a message to Milly, neither Maude nor Katlelooked up until he was close beside them. ,,

Rupert! Waa it Indeed he Well might he look as much astonished as pleased at the tremulous delight with which he was welcomed but when Milly reproachfully asked why he hsd left them so long in suspense about his movements, his brow darkened, and his answer was a retort. "How could I think that any of you cared to know wbat had become of one who was de tropanio&gst you? I should not be here now if I bad not seen a report in the paper of my father's severe illness. Is it correct "Mr. Errington will soon recover when he learns that you have come, cried Milly, and ran away to carry the news to the grieving father.

What has my absence had to do with his condition?" questioned the wonder-

in"Iwirmo't

tttl," Maude made answer,

we have all been making mysteries and secrets to our own discomfort but we are beginning to clear the mistakes away, as Katie will tell you, if you will sit down and listen to her patiently." "Ah! do not leave me, Maude, her blushing sister faltered, clinging to her dress, as she would have left the lovers

t0^My

dear child, my own affairs will

cost me sufficient trouble, withoutmy having yours thrust upon me. Take her on my hands, will you, Ruport

Her arch glance and the bashful attitude of Katie made him spring forward with new hopes inspiring him and Maude, satisfied that all would now be well betwixt them, tripped out oi the room.

CHAPTER XXXII.

SSi FOR HIS SAKE. Rupert was soon summoned from Katie's side to visit his father in his chamber, for Mr. Errington was impatient to behold his son, and hear him explain the real cause of his flight but the young man had found time to extort from Katie a confession that she had loved him all along, and to hear her whisper a promise to be his whenever he chose to ctaim her.

He was dreadtully embarrassed when his father began to question him. It was no easy nor pleasant task, to confess the foolish as well as unjust suspicions he had entertained, but when he saw how sadlv anxiety had changed that dear, Indulgent parent, he made a clean breast of it, and told him all. i! had no motive for keeping you and your Katie apart, my boy," Mr. Errington sorrowfully observed, except my consciousness that it would be dishonorable to let her marry a man who was not her equal in fortune. This obstacle is now removed but I had rather we were still poor than made wealthy by an event that casts a slur upon our honor," and Mr. Errington repeated to his indignant son such portions of the Barford gossip as, despite Milly's vigilance, had reached him through his garrulous doctor. "Patience?' be said when, angry, Rupert began to storm. "If we cannot clear up the af&irof tho fire, we may still do our best to live down tho slander it has occasioned. When you have accounted to me for your perplexing conduct, I shall be bettor able to bear the rest. Nay, do not go away. Miss Raymond," he added, catching sight of Milly, who had looked in to entreat him not to talk too much. "We have nothing to say to each other that so faithful and sealons a friend may not hear. Rupert Is just going to toll us why ho went away so hastily.' "I went because an officious woman poured a tale into my eats which confirmed my worst fears,»' he answered, reddening with shame and vexation. "In ft*ct, I wont to leave you free to marry Katie, and because I could not content myself to stay and wltnoss the ceremony. ,'

But who told you this absurd raisehood The woman who was here acting as nurse to Mr. Durrant. By though, it might not havo been Katie she meant, when she said that you were meditating a marriage that must be

*"ird the young man Involuntarily glanced at MUlieent, But she met his gaw with tolerable composure, and prevented any more awkward spes«cbes by saying: "Oblige me by deferring all farther conversation till to-morrow. Mr. Krritigton Is beginning to look feverish 2t All sorry to get back to Katie, Rupert bade M* fetlier fH'd-nlght ana quitted the room but Milly, who followed him from It. iwt her arm through his, and impelled him towards

^fwUl nct detain you longer than I can help, but there are some questions I must ask son. Wd you leave LeatjanksofeiAer*

Rupert drew himself up. "This fs a at range query to put to me, Miss Raymond? However, I will utswer it. Yes 1 wss alone when Ileft

And the nurse, Jane Smith "Went ber way, I suppose, even a# I went mine* She angered ine, and I toft hw abruptly.*

"And yon know no more than tills foneernlng her Hhe did not confess to you who she realiy is?"

Bu»«tstuwedandittftlied. ___ Who should she he but the Mist#ws Jane Smith un called h^ir? But you look unusually serious*

MIM

H*y»

&oiHh Is mon iNnything extraordinary conrKK-twl with this very quesf wo-

IBM

aU Utai pstwd between

you, and I will try to answer yeur '"That is soon done. A boy handed me a note from Nurse Smith an hour or two after I had auppcaed her to be on her way back to London." "Entreating you to meet her? I have seen it you left it In your roomWell, you kejft the appointment Pray

"I kept it, and she maddened me with her warnings that my ffether was on the eve of marrying again but why she should insist that I must use all ray Influence to prevent his doing so, I cannot comprehend, now I know ithat St was not on Katie his choice he had fallen."

And yon cannot tell me whither she went "To town, I suppose. Where else should she go?"

Rupert, do you think as I do that it was her hand that aet fire to Mr, Durrant'a room "Good Heavens! why should she commit such a malicious act? What motive oould she haw for it? If 1 thought this were possible, I would follow and compel her to acknowledge the crime."

Even if it were committed for your sake, and to restore to you and your fether the inheritance, of which Mr. Durrant's unjust will deprived you

Rupert looked troubled and incredulous. .. Why should she do this She liked me, I believe but would she peril her own safety on tho mere chance of doing mo a service?"

What will not a mother do for her child?/ thought Milly but she only said that was merely a suggestion that had presented Itself to her mind, and, releasing her impatient companion, sat down to write to her brother the news of Rupert return, and his titter ignorance of the whereabouts of Mrs Jane Smith. ...

Two or three weeks elapsed, and Mr. Errington, with recovered health and spirits, had looked the doubting, sneering world in the feoe once more. He saw that many of his oldest aequaintances suspected him but while his more valued friends—such as Sir Marens and John Raymond—were unchanged, he could bear this. But not even for Rupert's interests could ho resolve to touch the money by which he was supposed to have come so unfairly. He was still young and strong, and to Rupert, on his marrying, he would resign Leabanks, which as a dwelling had become so thoroughly distasteful to him, that it would be no jjp®* Through a friend in office, he had but little doubt of obtaining some berth in the Colonies, to which, perhaps, he should not have to sail alone and be would have broached his wishes and intentions to his only confidante—MiKy Raymond—if she had not of late contrived to avoid all tete-a-telcs.

To her these weeks had been very anxious ones. Many a slight—many an impertinence, unnoticed oy Rupert or his father, stung her to the quick: much of the gossip still afloat reached her through various channels, and she yearned to see Mr. Errington'sfkir fame cleared in the sight of ail men. But the cause of tho fire was still unknown, and if John Raymond was making endeavors to search into the mystery he gave ne tokens of it. Twice Milly wrote, urging him not to let the matter drop but the only reply he vouchsafed, was comprised the one word "Patience."

Whether he had been in communication with Wilfred Hayle, she knew not, for the latter had gone to town on the very indefinite excuse of "business.'' Maude, however, seemed satisfied with it, and went to The Beeches every dav, to read and chat to Sir Marcus, with whom she had always been such a favorite, that any little disappointment be might have felt over his nephew's choice was quickly swallowed up in his enjoyment of the pretty bride-elect's society.

After so many days of suspense, the receipt of a telegram from Southampton put Milly in a fiutter of mingled hope and fear.

It was from ^.Qh|l Raymond, and merely said:— Come here directly, and bring R. E with you. Tell him I will answer all questions when I meet you at the station.

But to her very great relielf, Ruport did not tease the agitated Millv with any. As soon as ho heard her request

his escort to Southampton, and saw by her looks that all was not right, be conjectured that some family trouble had befallen her, and was as eager to set off as Bhe could be herself.

More than once during their rapid journey, she felt a pang of compunction as she saw him so utterly unconscious of the shock that might, nay, must be awaiting liim: for was it likely that John Ravmond would have required his presence*, unless it were to bring him race to face with his mother

The first person they saw at South ampton was John himself, the next Wit fred Hayle and at the sight of his friend, Rupert's astonishment proclaim ed itself in the words: "You hereA Will? Where did you

8P^?lavembeon

to Prance, and have

since been detained here by the illness of a person who returned with me to England."

While Rupert was ruminating o\ or this not very explanatory reply, John Raymond drew his sister aside.

w8hs

here—JaneSmith,

rington, whichever you choose to call her. W ilfred Hayle, who has been w.y indefatigable coadjutor, found her at Bersk, to which place my emisaaries had traced her*^

Milly clung to her brother's arm, for she frit sick and chilly. ,v. Who shall tell Mr. Errington Oh! John, is riie worthy to be restored to him?" •«Mv dear, these questions are decided for us. She never will be him, for she Is dying. Nothing bul h. eagerness to behold her son once again bu enabled her to endure the fatigue of this journey*"

Miliv^rgot all else in pity for the lonely'woman. lake me to her, John, that Is. If she will let me help to nurse her. She has never liked toe."

COme to her if you choose, for the people lnthehc^l are^l^ i^ lndiilcrent, and she ^4 bevond all ft»lW» prefwlioes now. Bot what we principallv want with you, is to prepsreRnpert for the Interview. You will do it nwre tenderly than I can.

For a minute Milly looked IrrM^Juto, he task was such a t»inful one, that she shrank from undertaking it but when John whispered in her wr '-Mm. Errington expect* her son—there Is no time to lose! she could no longer bes-

^^Rdpert was stunned by thedellcatelyeonvcvwl tidiiip. lUs mother and asking to breathe her last in his

but informed int^mi^ «nliapt?y, and, aias he oould not

deceived

io| ttv, traitor to my

fether?" he agitatedly demanded «'8h8 is dying," urged Millv, "and you-ber son-have no right to Judge ber."

Rupert said no more, for he remembered the interview he bad once had with Mrs. Smith, when she spokes© passionately of her lost son, and he had listened, and pitied her, without knowing or dreaming that wss of himself she spoke. He signed to Milly to lead the way, and the next minute they* both stood beside the bed of Olympia Errington.

Tbefhlse gray hair flung off, and the skin no longer stained for the purpose of disguise, she bore, despite the ravages of disease, some feint resemblance to the portrait of the lovely foreigner, who had won the love of two men so utterly dissimilar as Mr. Durrant and William Errington. Her dark eyes perceived her son as he psssed on the threshold, and though a minute before she was too prostrate to move, she now sprang up, and kneeling on her couch in an sttitude of the deepest humility, extended her arms to him. ...

Come to me, oh! my Rupert!" she prayed, "I could not die till I had seen you once more! If I have sinned, I have been punished—crushed to the earth by my sorrow and remorse!"

My fether—my good, generous father," said the young man, still avoiding her embrace. "How can I forget that

Have I not wept tears of blood for my folly I was mad, Rupert—mad a villain had duped me, and I did not discover the extent of his treachery until it was too late for aught but repentance! Hear me—let me tell you the story olf my life, and you, too, shall hear it she, added, turning to Milly. "You, at all events, shall not think me guiltier than I really was!"

Before any reply oould be given, she was wildly pouring forth the history of the past. HGr early, happy days in her Southern home, were vividly described, her encontrc with Mr. Durrant, his endeavors to win her affectien, and desertion of her as soon as he wearied of the sport, ber subsequent marriage to Mr. Errington, and recognition of her felse lover in his kinsman. Then she stirred her listeners to indignation by recounting Mr. Durrant's wily endeavors to estrange her from her unsuspecting husband, and told her of her wild flight to London to fling herself into tho arms ot the man from whom she believed that she had been treacherously separated, and her discovery of the letter on nis desk, in which Mr. Durrant revealed his baseness.

I left the bouse instantly," she went on, "and wandered I know not whither, except that I avoidod as much as possible the eyes and -haunts of men, fori felt that my miserable credulity must be graven on my face. For this heartless wretch I had lost home, fame, the love of husband and child and yet I dared not die, for could I hope that Heaven would receive such a lost creare

But I never forgot the little child I had deserted. My longing to behold him grew with every passing year, and when I was asked to go to Leabanks to nurse a siek gentleman lying there, I eagerly consented. I did not Know until! arrived there that it was for Mr. Durrant.my services were needed nor that my jealous heart would nearly break when I found myself forgotten in the home that had been my own. Rupert, my son, I have expiated my folly —even you, who look at me so sternly, will not give it a worse name—by years of ceaseless sorrow let me hear you call me mother once before I die."

The young man gently raised ner head from Milly's arm to lay it on his own breast.

Why did I not know this sooner he sorrowfully exclaimed. "My pcor mother I shall take you to leabanks! You do not know my father's generous heart If you think he will refuse tore ceivo you

Itis too late—too late 1" she wailed, and the change that crept over her features as she spoke attested the truth of the words.

,fBut

I would not have it

otherwise, my Rupert. You will think of ine sometime*. 1 ask no

kindly more-' But my father—have you no desire to see him?"

No," she answered, firmly "and I adiure von never to undeceive him. Let me still be to him the pure

Sever

or Mrs. Kr

,unK wife whose image he cherishes, tell him that I lived to be the haggard, dlafigured creature whose watch beside our dying enemy he sometimes shared! Let me be to him ever and always the innocont Olympia whom un. invod with such devoted tenderness. I could not bear to see him now that I am wbat lam, and hi® nsart is given to another."

She wss too exhausted to say much more but she contrived to tell her son she had been to her native plaae, and convinced her whilom guardian of her wealth that should have been mine is now yoors," slie addedj"tmnsferred to an English ba«ker, who holds it in your name and the analc has been ao arranged that no one need ewr know that it Is from a mother you have received this gift. And now let me sleep, but do not leave me, my son!"

He pledged himself not to do so, and Milly, after

making

Will you kiss me before you go? I have been rude to you, b"t it was to keep my secret, and tho bitterness of

Millv kissed her cold lips tenderly, and lei her ^1^2 JK no further ttwn tlw stairs •haaat till a startled cry from Rupert drew her back to tho room. With her eves still fixed on the fee® of ber son,

wss only when the hand be held in hfTgrew Icy cold that ha knew all wss over.

friend was that Millicent Raymond went to nurse at Southampton, and whose remains she and Rupert staysd to see respectfully Interred. He was too much engrossed just then in looking up the Influential friends through whom he hoped to obtain a colonial appointment, and Milly's brief explanation that the dead woman was one who had suffered $ and sorrowed mueh, evoked no vulgar gf curiosity on his part but rather net fhim to avoid a subject that must be painful to her.

He was much surprised, but exoeedingly grateful, when a statement appearedin all the local papers, signed by Jane Smith, and witnessed by John Raymond and Wilfred Hayle. attesting that it was she who set fire to the cabinet her indignation having been ao strongly excited by Mr. Durrani's conduct during the time she was In attendance upon nim at Laabanks, that she had been tempted to commit an act of retaliation, for which aho had felt no compunctlon'uutil she learned that others had been suspected of the deed.

When the chilling winter and fickle Miring bad passed away, and the trees Leabanks were putting on the deep green of their summer verdure, Katie and Maude Lesden donned their bridal robes, and were led to the altar by Ru-

But

jrt Errington and his friend Wflfred. Mr. Enrington did not vacate Leabanks, after all. nor sail to either of the colonies, for the law sum ot money that came to Rupert from some anonymous friend, when sdded to tho fortune of his bride, rendered him comparatively wealthy without any assistance from his fether.

Mr. Errington never overcame his invincible repugnance to making use of his kinsman's property, art! after many consultations with Milly Raymond, who seemed to enter into his views better than anyone else, he devoted the greater

Bnrrantof

»rtion it to charitable purposes, the Alms-houses and Durrant Or-phan-houses, association for the first time the name of his kinsman with good works.

After the double wedding, Milly, quitted Leabanks in order to pay along visit to ber brother Maurice and his young wife, who stood in especial need just tnen of her attentions and Mrs. John Raymond openly expressed her hopes that when ber husband's very «e* centric sister went to service asaln, she would show a little more consideration for the femily dignity, and take a situation at a greater distance from Barford.

But when Maurice and his Emma,and the new baby could quite spare Aunt Milly, she went back to Leabanks, to be tho sober and quietly-happy spouse of Mr. Errington. And no one, not even the supercilious Georgie, could blame him for his choice, for it had been made wisely and well. Millicent was the promoter of all his many plans for the benefit of those around him, the prudent, affectionate friend of Maude, who still dearly loved to torment her grave spcuse, and of Katie, who was the sweetest of little wives to her Rupert. And yet more—in all the change of life she was still the fair, serene matron, to whom everyone hurried for sympathy in their troubles—a good, gentle woman to whom regret for an error or the dotermination to do right never came, as it has come to many besides Olympia, when, as far as this world is oonoerned, it was Too

Mr. Errington—ah why did you not return to him, and confess all in his arms?" murmured Milly, who was now kneeling on the bed, tenderly supporting the gasping, moaning Olympia. "I could not do that. I had not courage he bad always been too good to me and I had deserted him for a villain. How could I go and ask him to restore to me the blessings I had so recklessly flung away 1 And yet I went back to the neighborhood ot Leabanks, and hid there, while the poor demented creature with whom I had exchanged clothes was buried in my stead—ay, and so narrowly escaped detection, that I find once more to London, where in a miserable lodging I caught the disease that despoiled me of my beauty. They took me to a hospital, where good Samaritans nursed me back to health. But my brain was dullei with the agony I had endured, and seeing this they kept me there, until I became so useful at nursing others, that I was contented to remain altogether. What else could I do but accept tho only work that presented itself? ....

LATK!

[TUB KWD.]

A 'Wrong Castom ComcM. It is quite generally' the custom to take strung liver stimulants for the curs of liver complaint, and both the mineral and vegetable kingdom* have been diligently oearched to procure the most draotic and poisonou* purgatives, in order to produce a powerful cffect upon the liver, and arouse the lagging and enfeebled organ. This system of treatment is on the satne principle as that of giving a weak and debilitated man lasge portions of brandy to enable him to ao a certain amount ol work. When the stiinuleut-is withheld, the organ, like the syeten, gradually relapses into a more torpid ar sluggish and weakened condition than before. What !hen is wanted? Medicines, which, while they cause the bile to flow freely from the liver, as that organ is toned into action, will net overwork and thus debilitate i', bat will, when their use is discontinued, leave the liver strengthened and healthy. Such remedies are found in Dr Pierce's Oolden Medical Discovery and Purgative Pellets.

A CURE

Dr.

lorn

all the arrange

ments she coiini for the dying woman, was stealing noiselessly away, when Olympia recalled her.

I unjust: a good

vet forgive me. Ah! you are woman I can see it now andyou will make him happier than I di&^The blessing of Heaven be upon you both.

Mr. Errington never knew wh^ the

LIVER DISEASE.

RUSK,

Texas, May 10th, 1873.

R. V. PIERCE, BLAMO,N. Y.:

Dear Sir—My wife last year at this time was confined to her bed with Chronic Liver Diseawe. I had one of the best doctors to see her, and he gave her up to die, when I came upon some of your medicine. I bought one bottle and commenced giving it. She then weighed 82 lbs. new she weighs 140 and is robust and hearty. She has taken eight bottles in all, so you see I ae an advocate for your Medicines.

WILLIAM MEASEL.

FROM THE NOTED SCOUT, "BUFFALO BILL," HOLLAKD

HOUSE,

Rockford, III., April

20,1874.—Dr. R. V.

PIERCR,

Buffalo, N.

Sir—I hare now taken four bottles of your Oolden Medical Discovery in con-s nection with your Pellets, and must say that nothing I have ever taker, for my liver has done me as much good. I feel' like a new man. Thanks to your wonderful medice.

W. F. CODY, ("Buffalo Bill.")

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Saturday Evening Mail'! PaiCE«SMM

A YEAK,

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