Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 8, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 August 1877 — Page 6

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II

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ME MAIL

TP

I'Aitu rem the People.

SOMEHOW OR OTHER.

Ufa ha* a burden for every one's abonlder None nmy ttcape from its troublwand ore Miss it In youth, sua 'twill oorae when we're

V!

older,

Amt 01 aj is eloce as tho garments we wear. Borrow comes into our home*uninvited.

Knbblng the heart of Its treasures of song, "Lover* grow cold, and our friendships are slighted.

Yet somehow or other we do get along. .'Midst the sweet blossoms that smile on our faces,

Grow the dank weeds that would poison and blight And e'en in the midst of earth 8 beautiful places,

There'* always a something that isn Yet© $Uftiom,arock we pluek gay flower

And drink from a spring in a desolate wante .... They came to the heart liko a heavenly dower,

A

..

And nought is so sweet to the eye or the taste. Everr-day toil is an every-lay blesMup,

Though poverty's cottage and crust we umyMuire Weak Is the back on which burcensare pr^SSi 13 $£«

But 8fnt Ik the heart which Js strengthen ed by prayer Somehow or ether the pathways grows brighter,

Jos: vhen we mourned there was none to befriend, Hope In the heart makes the burden seem lighter,

And somehow or other we get to the end!

The Discarded Wife.

A ROMANCE OF THE AFFECTIONS. BY H. ARTHUR GRATTAN.

Author of "Myra Graham," "Marion's Destiny"The Usurer's Daughter," etc.

CHAPTER VIII. 1NTHKMOONLIOHT.

Does it not often happen, when one expects to meet with some great difficulty that the path proves instead smooth and easy, and, vice versa, when all looks so smiling and sunshiny, thunder clouds are, unseen, gathering overhead, and a storm brewing, which will presently burst with violence about one's unsuspecting ears?

The Captain walked into the diningroom for all the world as though he were upon his way to execution, thinking what difficult and disagreeable task was awaiting him, and wondering how on earth bo could acquit himself thereof with any amount of credit.

But nothing of the kind was required. He took his place before his friend, to whom he explained briefly the sudden illnecs of his wife, and blundered out some incoherent sentences to the effect that Peroy Hardwicke must not upon any account allow this disagreeable incident to throw a shadow over the entertainment.

But Hardwicko scarcely heard half of what the Captain bad to say, when he interrupted bim by springing to his feet aul protesting that he must be off. •Off!'repeated Jerrold. .. '"of course, my dear fellowl' 'Why of course?' 'Simply, because I'm in tho way.' 'No, no!' replied the Captain, very iaintly, though. 'Yes, yes!' repeated Hardwicke heartily. 'Don't talk to me, for I won't listen to# sentence you have to say. I'm in the way, of course, and so I shall take the liberty of taking myself off. Now, not a word, old fellow. Surely, there ought to bo no-foolish eeremony between us two. Don't I owe you enough already—don't I owe you my life?'

He shook hands heartily with his host, and laughingly bade him good-by protesting that he would fare capitally at his Inn, and there was no necessity for apology.

The Captain looked after his retreating form, feeling a little bit ashamed of himself for having allowed his guest to go away quite so easily and with so little resistance.

But then he was so glad he was gone —So happy to get rid of him. Are not the most generous hosts at times glad to get rid of their dearest friends? Not because they never want to see them again, but because, lust at that time, they have had enough, and too much, of their company.

very well in the little scene I have deYes, the smiling gentleman at least 100 per

ry

scribed. had, of a vferity, risen .... cent, in the honest sailor's estimation.

There had been, sometimes, a trilling want of frankness and sincerity noticeable in some of Percy Hardwicke'salry talk, which rather jarred upon his friend's ear, but the open hearted style itf which those tew last words had been spoken lea a very favorable and lasting impression upon Jerrold'« mind, which was not easily eradicated although in time he came to know tho hypocrite in his real colors, and to vatue bias for what bowtti

Perhaps, though, if ho had been able tfi see the expression of his friend's face as he walked up the hill he would not have been quite so pleased. A black oloud crossed Percy's usually bland and manly countenance, and be savagely clenched his teeth as he muttered to himself. 'An ill-tempered boor,' he aald 'what could I expeot elle? And this fanciful woman, too! What does it •nftn, should like to know? There's more in it than meets the eye. that's certain^ and what is as certain, too, is that I will find the secret out. And then, mv lady, and then, tny boorish friend, I won't forget the grudge I owe you.'

The grudge he owed them! It was strange what grudge he could we this niln, who had saved his 1U*—who had offered him nothing but kmdnees from the fint moment he made his acquaintance and yet certain enoughi was iUhat thjpre was a deep-routed ill-wl.ltn Hardwicke's breast, which, growing and m£?m|nft bunk forth, at last, into open

Why was itiof 1 cannot help pausing agaOn to auk the question, although I nave no bops of finding an answer.

Why

did

the asp, in the

fifcbie, iutn

up­

on ana bite the soft hearted husbandman, who finding ft frown, brought It tiokne to warm it on the hearth?

Why do those whoborrow

our

philosophising

money

lute us, and thaas who cheat ua bear us uiore animosity than we ever bear them? But

ia dull

Work,

tho Captain is impatient to see

and

how

Cares

Hh young wil||MidS am afraid that as X* lam gettiitiftm butalowly with this v. whioh will in the end have,

per*

tee, some dark and terrible scenes in although, aa yet, the interest may to h«MS mostly to thai which la

apt mweu., room, nor, indeed, to gtvaany explanation of her motive ft* wMiIng Haiti*

a ~-V

wieke to be gone, except In souse sort of vague fashion to intimate that the was afraid ahe might grow worse, and then Mr. Hardwicke would have been uncomfortable had she staid under their roof.

No great explanation, however, was necessary, for Jerrold was only too happy to find that her i)ln««s was not more serious.

She would not leavo hf-f room again, and lay wrapped up warmly on a ooucb before the fire so that Jerrold, having swallowed a few monthfula of dinner, came up stairs to sit by her aide and read to her.

The time passed pleaaantly enough, and it was only upon one oooasion when she had had a relapse, and was speechless with pain.

This happened when they were talking together and,, in the course of conversation the Captain bad aaked her some question about the errand which bad takeu her but upon the previous evening.

The maiU-r tv as soon enough forgotten. though, for there was nothing In It to wake an impression upon his mind.

After this, though, she said that she felt very much worse, and wtuld like to goto bed.

Again he asked her whether be should summon medical assistance. •No, nil' she replied, with the same manifestation of eagerness that she bad previously shown. •I should be much easier in my mind.' 'No, no -there is no w-casfon.' 'If you are sure that it is nothing serious—' •I am certain of it!' •And can you ascribe no cause for the attack. •Oh, yes I think it is, perhaps, because I require change of air. I do not think that this valley agrees with ide very well. But never mind—' •Never mind!' cried the Captain, impetuously.

4But

we will mind! You

shall go away to-morrow. Why did you not say so before? Where shall we go? Where would you like to go? Tell me!'

Was it possible that the words she had spoken were spoken thoughtlessly, and that she, at the time, bad not entertained any idea of the possibility of a change of scene?

It is not easy to say, but it is certain that his reply startled her considerably. Instead of making any reply, she sat gaziug at the red embers in the grate with a strange intensity, as though she were rapidly turning over in her mind some elaborate scheme of actiou.

He paid no attention to her, and presently went down stairs to fetch a book from the dining-room but, when the door had closed upon hi j, and she bad sat a moment listening to his retreating footsteps, she sprung to her feet, as though an electric shock had vibrated through her frame.

She sprung to her feet, and clasped her bands across her burning brow. •Oh, Heaven help me!' she murmured, through her white lips. •Heaven guide my steps. How muf»t I act? Where cau I turu for safety? How can I escape?'

She seemed to struggle violently with herself, as though the would by main foi'ce govern her mind.

She seemed to strive desperately to concentrate her thoughts But in vain.

Then she paced slowly tj and fro the length of the room, muttering to herself as she went.

All at once an idea flashed upon her. She ran to a small table, whereon were pens, ink and paper, aod sat down to writo.

But scarcely bad she written half a dozen words when she paused,and threw down the pen with a weary sigh. 'No, no!' she said, in her low tone and with an accent which was fraught with anguish unspeakable—'no, no!—-It will not do! He can not be bought off so. There is no hope for me—no hope— no hope!' 5

When Jerrold was on" his way to the dining-room, he met the servants on their way to bed, and questioned one of them respecting bis wife's illness. 'Your mistress will not allow me to send for the doctor, and thinks that her attack is not serious, and yet I cannot help feeling uneasy. I am afraid that we may not be applvlng the proper remedies. Pray, what did you do in her former attacks?' •Her former attacks!' the girl repeated, with an expression of surprise. 'Yes, when your mistress was taken ill before. She tells me that this is only one of several that she has had lately.' •Missus has not been ill before, sir, that I know of.' •Not ill before?' •No, sir.' •Not vory lately, perhaps but a week or two ago.' •Not since I have been here, sir.'

He asked no further questions, although the reply somewhat puzzled and dissatisfied him.

Somehow, be could obtain no satisfao torv explanation of the difficulty since be had been at home.

The thought bad never struck him until this moment but. once having struck him, he pondered upon it with growing uneasiness

He strod thinking for a while upon the tbnshold of .be dining-room, and then, the recollection of the errand that had brought him there recurring to him, be opened the door and entered.

But, by some accident, holding the candle carelessly, bo let it fall and extinguished it.

Tho servant# by thh» had gone up stairs, and he did not like to call for them for a light. Besides, he knew, or fancied he knew, where to put his band upon the object of which he had oome in search, and would be able to do so in the dark.

It, however, was not so dark, for the blinds had not been pulled down, and the moon was shining brightly without.

Ouenterlug the room, Jerrold glanced involuntarily in the direction of the windows, and saw In the garden without a tall, dark figure, standing motionless, looking up at the bouse.

Very still and motion leas it was so much* so, indeed, that at first Jerrold fancied that it could not be a human figure that he saw but a bosh, taking a form which had caused him to mistake It, at the first glance, tor a man.

But another look convinced him thai he had not been mistaken. There oertainly was a man in the garden, looking up at the lighted window of the bed room above.

What oould he his motive? No good errand could be be upon, that waa certain. Most probably he waa a thiet

At any rate, Jerrold was determined upon ascertaining the oauae of his visit, and with this intention be crossed the room as noiaslenly as possible, with the idea of opening the window, and suddenly confronting him.

But upon the way, wbeoabout a yard from the window, he tumbled over piece of furniture which he Seed, ami, the noise startlit er. he instantly turned and

oot no-

startling the intruded and fled.

Jerrold sprung to the window, and with some difficulty, for it waa bolted at the top and bottom, got it open.

Thla waa, however, the work of several momenta, and when, at length, be got into the gwdeo, he looked In vain for the ^fnthout hesitating. he rushed forward through the bushes, and, reaching an open spaoe which commanded an uninterrupted view of the whole garden, gased around.

But he oould see no one. •f He vaulted l'ghtly over the garden wall, and walked rapidly dowo the road, peering eagerly into every dark corner tbathepaased.

Yet without suooesa. The night waa very atill there was acarcely a breath of air stirring stronr enough to ruffls the slenderest blade

restless course In the deep shadow the tangled underwood that hid it from sight.

He was not to be beaten, though, yet and made the circuit of the bouse, looking every where in the expectation of seeing or bearing something of the Intruder,

Arriving at last, however, at the spot from which he had started, he entered the house, by no means pleased with tho result of his strange adventure.

For some time be waited silent and anxious in the dark dining-room, expecting that the person, whoever it was, that had been playing the spy upon his

fftemisesthe

might return to his post, think

ng tha coast was clear. But in this hope he was doomed to be Haffan honr passed without his mak ing his appearance, and then the Captain reluctantly gave up the idea of catching him.

All ho could do now waa to make a tour of inspection round the house, and make suro that the fastenings of the doors and windows were secure.

He refrained from saying anything to Eleanor on the subject when he returned up stairs, thinking that by so doing be would but alarm her unnecesssrily, yet the* matter did not very soon fade from bis mind, and more than once through the course of the long, and to him restless night be raised himself upon bis elbow to listen when any noise, real or imaginary, in the house below, msde him fancy that the thief had returned again

And did Eleanor slee any more

sep

soundly than her husband? Or did she lie long hours in the pitchy darkness with her eyes wide open, fixed upon vacancy* pondering vainly upon the question which bad so disturbed her awhile ago, and yet remained unanswered?

How to escape? How to escape? From what should sbefly? Wbatdanger encompassed bei?

What load t-f sin lay heavy on her breast? Was it possible that one so young and beautiful as she was cocld have committed some deadly sin, tbe terror of the discovery of which haunted her day and night?

But what more likely? It was certain enough that she bad some dark secret rankling in her heart.

It was certain, too, that her life .was one great living lie!

CHAPTER IX.

OATHEBINO EVIDENCE.

Lest the reader should be tempted to think worse of our smiling friend, Mr. Percy Hardwicke than ne absolutely deserves that we should do, I hasten to say a few words respecting bis antecedents. Indeed, this explanation should properly have been given at an earlier period of our story, had we not had to deal with other matters of more importance.

He was,

ce.

te was, then, a young gentleman o, although professing himself to be gain possession of, and some considerable sums squander money.

who, althe ..0.. verj poor, had, somehow or other, con trived to

He was a younger son of a very wealthy house, and, having good expec tations, found no great difficulty in obiblecs repay it when

taining' considerable cash, promising to he should come into his own.

As, however, he was along while arriving at this happy climax, there was, in the end, a sood deal more trouble in obtaining supplies than when first he started. He got on somehow, though, pretty well for all that and as, when he had reached the worst, he found a rich widow willing to bestow her hand and fortune upon bim, be was supposed by his friends to have brought bis career to a close in a very satisfactory manner.

His career, however, was not terminated by marriage. On tbe contrary, tbe rich widow having obligingly taken her departure for a better world, he began life in earnest.

With such earnestness and energy however, that he very soon ran through with all bis money, and was obliged to begin borrowing again harder than ®*®r*

At this point of his career, his profligate friends, particularly those who had eaten and drank most at hia expense, gave him up in disgust.

Indeed, there seemed no help for him now be most go rapidly down hill, and end his days In abject misery, as is tbe fate of the greatest part of spendthrifts todo.

But such a fate did not await our smll ing friend. Quite the contrary.

When he had reached his last shilling, and waa tossing it up aa a guide to him iu hia future course Of oonduot—to settle, in fact, whether he should turn his attention to felony or suicide—the post brought him a letter from England. He was at that time in the East India Ocfmpauy*s service and the letter set him to tbe top of the tree.

It waa to aay that hia elder brother, a stern, uncompromising relative, who. his life tbrougn, had obstinately refused to be swindled by the younger, had died auddenly, without a will, and he, Percy Hardwicke, waa the sole heir to all hia property. .In the ordinary course of events, the younger brother had not expected so find a windfall, aa it waa in tbe power of tbe elder brother to will away many of his belongings and, from hisaxperienoe of tbe state or feeling which his elder brother entertained toward him, lie thought It extremely improbable that he would receive any voluntary benefit from handa.

The elder had, through his life, Increased insteadofwastedhls patrimony Mid when the younger stepped into bk brother's sboee be found, fo Ms great satisfaction, a very large sum of money phiwj at hfe which he waa wjr ftr from expecting.

Aa be found theaodety of Calcutta to his taste, be did notfora long tlmeeotertaln any idea of changing hie quarters.

He lived therefor a year after he had received tbe Into, his brother's death but at laat, '~MnKhim.be nicked up a——

E^i^stiES^rtngtaSdr^ Upon the way the ahijp waa wrecked and all banda but tbe young officer poriabed.

Hardwicke was found In the laat stage ofexhaufttoo, ctlqglaglo a«par( and

drifting about at tbe merey of the water. He was reeeued by the Captain, and oame in hia ahip to England.

In a belt around hia body he carried a auffldency of money in noteeto laat blm well for some time to oome and aa he waa tolerably comfortable at tbe Inn, and had, moreover, love aflWr to occupy hia atttentlon, ho bad no idea of changing his quartera for a week or more.

Hia property all thia time bad been in tbe handa of bis brother's steward—a peraon in whom the elder Mr. Hardwicke had placed the most Implicit feith.

Thla good opinion, however, waa not shared to any great extent by the younger, who had no very great *iaitb in any thing that waa good—lu virtue of any kind.

He did not take any active steps, though, to look into his affairs. He was very comfortable at his inn, and meant to Btup there for a while— until he was tired, at any rate. •H» can't do a very great deal of mischief,' thought Hardwicke 'and, if he does, I can punish bim pretty severely. Most likely be is a knave, for who ia not? If he is, then, when he hears that I took passage on the Aurora, and that tbe Aurora, has gone down, he will suppose thst I have gone down also. What will then be tbe consequence?'

He asked himself this question at the ling fo the events which have just been recoi

breakfast table tbe

moral

following •ru­

ed in the preceding chapter. He smiled with his customary sweetness, as he thus reflected, breaking tbe while the shell of a new laid egg, and gazing placidly through tho open window on to tbe green fields and sweetly scented garden spreading out before bim. •What will then be the consequences?' be repeated. 'My friend, the honest steward, will suppose I am dead, and Will throw off the mask of sanctity, and

planat quencesof this highly ingenious proceeding? Let me see!'

He paused in his reflections until he bad satisfactorily disposed of tbe egg tben under discussion, and gazed out of the window with a patronizing smile, as though be would to the utmost to encourage Mother Nature for her recent effort. •In the first place,' he said, 'I shall turn up in tbe style of other long lost brothers dramatically represented and I shall be, to use the parlance of the vulgar, down upon him pretty considerably. Ha, ha! How very surprised he will be!'

Tbe notion of the steward's blank expression of countenance afforded him to laugh to himself for several moments so merrily that Mrs. Miles, passing by the window accidentally, and peeping in, was carried away by admiration of his handsome face, and conveyed to the kitchen her opinion that the gentleman in the parlor was the pleasantest, bestnaturea aud kindest hearted gentleman there bad ever been within tbe 'Blue Dragon's'wills since tbe •Blue Dragon' had gone in for a house of entertainment for travelers and their cattle.

Pretty Pbosbe listened tu this opinion of her mother's with a faint blush, though she offered no opinion of her own upon the subject.

What she thought, however, is quite another thing. What did she think? That the gentleman was very handsome, that is certain.

That he was a very fine gentleman, and a very rich gentleman, and that he loved her, oh! so—in fact, very much indeed.

She also thought what a very flne thing it would be to be a flne gentleman's fine ladj, and ride in a carriage of her own, draw*: by prancing grays.

She bad not been quite able, as yet, to makeup her mind whether gray or cream-colored horses would be the most effBctivo.

Poor, pretty little foolish head! All night long it bad tossed uneasily upon its pillow, too full of thought for sleep.

Over and over again, in imagination, had she arrayed herself in gorgeous apparel—had she driven through the village street,(leaving the awe struck villagers capias: through the du^tatihe last obtainable glimpse of her departing splendor. -There was one face among tbe others, though, wbich, even in the happiest scenes, would thrust itself forward somowbat unpleasantly—the face of the blacksmith, Jabez Rourke.

Phiabe was afraid of Jabez Rourke— very muoh afraid of him, since that little scene in the fields, when be bad shown his teeth.

She had, up to tben, treated him as a sort of loutish lover—a sort of Caliban— to be flirted with when it took her fancy' ao to do.

She had taken him up when it pleased her. and dropped him again with very little ceremony but now she began to be afraid tbat she had made a great mistake in tbe character of her plaything.

She had hitherto taken him to be a atupid lout but he was, withal, a dangerous lout—morose, savage, revengeful capable indeed of acta of violence which awhile ago she would not have believed to be possible.

Yea. this ugly face, which forced iteelf unbidden upon her attention, caused her considerable uneasiness.

How must he be disposed off Of course, his threats bad been but empty air. 8he was certain of that. He would never dare lay a finger on her.

And yet, somehow, although abe was so positive upon this point, she did not feel at all comfortable.

Tbe 111 conditioned blacksmith had throughout the day been skulking around and about the 'Blue Dragon and when Percy Hardwicke, overnight, bad been amusing himself by playing a game of akittlee with some roysteriiig horse dealer stopping at the inn the

playing nmtenii

of skittles with some dealer si

stopping at the inn tt made himself very

blacksmith had made himself vegr

in picking up tbe pina, and 1 very thankful and obsequious for such stray halfpence aa were tnrown to him by the fine gentleman thus disportin* himself.

He waaa vary fine gentleman, indeed, in the estimation of such sa frequented the hostelry where be had taken up hia •bode. •Who is be?' 'Where doenhe eomefrom?* •What's be call himself?*

These were the questions which the admiring rustics aaked one another. There waa no very satfafcetory infornation obtainable upon any of these hlnta: and eren tho bait informed— the** are always araw persona who are mighty wiee In every email village, the wiaest in tho amallset, of muiaa were obliged to oonfeak when pxeaaed upon tho antyeet, thai ihey know nothing at all about it.

But what waa known waa thia j% •He*a a mighty UnonantlsMant'''" 'He mnatbesomebodyF •Oh, that* certain—eurs!' 'Anyoneeonldasethoc, withhilfan eye, ai the ftisa glauoe.' *iXe looks it!* •And be h* lots of braes!'

By this ti»oy meant money, of cou»se, riotlmpudenott though, for that matter, the newartivai had pteaty of the lattar,

He waa a great favorite before be bad remained there very long, because he waa very liberal, and willingly stood treat to all who would drink at hia expense aud yon maybe sme that he found very little trouble In gathering together a crowd of persons who were in that way of thinking.

There soon collected a number of bangers on, who eagerly watched for his oomlng, laid In wait for him, and sponged upon bim at every turn.

A body guard of meroenary vagabonds followed him about, and kept their eyes fixed upon him, ready to obey his wishes In the slightest particular.

He bad a somewhat imperioua atyle of address, which was not a little insulting but they bore with this very contentedly, and were willing to take his kioks in the hope of receiving a share of his halfpence.

He was greatly admired, too, by Mrs. Mil's, who was never weary or singing bis praise.

What were pretty Phoebe's sentiments respepting him we know already and Mr. Miles, who was a mild man, very muoh henpecked and humble, was in duty bound to admire what his good lady admired, and ask no questions, or form no opinion. of his own upon tbe subject.

Percy Hardwicke, then, having shown that be was a man of money, soon found tbe

(BlueDragon'

a very comfort­

able inn, and had Tittle to desire in a small way that was not soon provided for him.

He made up his mind to stop there for a time, anyhow, until be was weary of his flirtation witn the pretty Phoebe. •If I ran away with her,' he thought, •there would be a great bother about it, I suppose. But then, surely, she is worth a little trouble and vexation.'

He was thus reflecting when, having concluded his morning meal, he stood by the inn door, gazing idly down tbe quiet village street, wnich lay basking in the sun, very still ana drowsy looking.

Raising his eyes, he saw a gloomy visage Bcowling at him from the tap room mndow.

It was the face of the blacksmith, who, catching his eye, made a rough bow. 'Come here, Orson,' said Mr. Hardwicke, 'I want to speak to you.'

The man came slouching forth, and stood cringing before him, pulling bis forelock. •What an ill looking beggar you are,' said Hardwicke. candidly. 'Do you ever wash yourself?' 'When I have time,' replied the other. •That's riot often, I should think, by tbe look of you.' 3, •My trade's a dirty one, sir.' •Trade, eh? What may that be?' •I'm a blacksmith.' •Yes, yes, so I've heard but you never seem to be at work.' •Thereis not muoh work in- theee parts.' •Not much, I suppose. A deadly-live ly sort of hole.' •You're right there, master.' •Your native yillage, 1 presume?' •I don't know, I'm sure. It's the flrst place I recollect, anyhow.' •Parents live here?' •Know naught about 'em, master. The tramps lett me, I'm told, because, I suppose, I wasn't worth carrying any fartber.' •Most probably, my friend,' replied the smiling gentleman •only I'm surprised they don't come for you, now you've grown up so promising.'

Tbe grimy giant scowled at the speaker somewhat menacingly for a moment, as though he seemed to be upon the point of resenting the insulting manner in which be was addressed.

But he quickly enough swallowed his indignation, and grinned and Cringed as before. •You wouldn't be so sorry to leave this little village, I presume, my grimy friend?' •I shouldn't shed many tears, master!' •You don't like It, then?' •I bate it.' 'Ah! I suppose you thiak it very strange that I should stop here for pleasure?'

The lout male no reply, but scowled darkly at bim, an before. Perhaps he oould have given a very shrewd guess st the motive which prompted the fine gentleman to honor the little village with his presence, and yet be refrained from making any suggestions whatever upon the subject, for reasons of his own.

Meanwhile, Percy Harkwicke was thinking to himself though tbe subject of bis thoughts be did not now deem it necessary to communicate to bis companion. «If you wouldn't take offense, master,' said Rourke, tugging at bis forelock. •Offense at what?' 'I beg your pardon, maater but then if at any time you should chance upon

"•Well?' 'If you knew any one as wanted a servant, sir, to travel anywhere. I should not care how far!' •Ah! that's kind of you, too. Certain ly, you would pay for dressing in livery you would. I'll think of it, my unwashed aspirant, if I bear of any one in want of a pretty page and now I bavehad enough or your society, so go back to your forge, or stay* here's a shilling gc and fuddle yourself instead that will be better.'

The blacksmith eagerly took the proffered coin which the gentleman flung to him, as be might have flung a boneat a doe, and alouobed away toward tho taproom.

Hardwicke looked after him admir-

,D5!&M*

ever require the services of

any unprincipled eeoundrel, I ahall know where to

lay my

handa upon him/

he thought. 'If I do car** away ttiat pretty girl, my friend, tbe unwashed miecreant, will be the very man to assist me—the very man!'

Perhapa not! Percy Hardwicke had not the vaguest notion what were the lout's senMrnentoji^ott^thfa^ snbject^or

lents upon this subject,

perhaps he would nave felt rather

in his

e%*at»noS?u2t

SStoL

happily

he had found tbe

planning out his litUsvilisinias,

Sffai^gswesUytoWmaelf. He strolled down the yillagestroet, aod was sbesnt from ths inn about half an hour. On hia return, he tohte snnojanee, that Edward Jerrold bad celled almost directly after

te'£jnS2o2ykmi

In,' be thought,

would have saved me the trouble of go-

wifeofXls is getting on.'

the fields, but, 1 I'sbouseTbs

H:

when within stghfeof Jermot theGhptawi return-

raid's to tbe ... few words were exchanged, and Percy Hardwicke had made moo fwlite inquiries wspsetlng tbe health of thn ladyTwben Jenokl sstiL 'By the by,I was on my wsy to your inn with—with thislstter?

As ha moke. Hsidwkto pwalswdfor ths firstttmethet he bold MMc in his

,""p'

•For me?' asked Peroy. •No I cant say who It is for, I am sure some person at the inn. My wife wanted it delivered to. him.'' •Allow me to take it?' •No, no! You are coming home with me to have lunch.' •I am afraid I cannot do that, as I have made an- engagement for this afternoon.' 'What, found some friend?' •Ye—yes. Made an acquaintance, that Is.' 'I wish you oould have thrown it over,' said Jerrold, though it must be confessed that be did not persist very earnestly in tbe invitation.

Percy Hardwicke would not be persuaded, and, after a few brief sentences on either side, he turned part.

away to de-.

'If yon will kindly take this letter and it wiU not trouble you,' said the Captain did not know that my wife wanted to send any message, or, of course, I would have taken it when I went at first. But, as I was coming back, I met the girl carrying the letter, and asked where she was going. I suppose it is of vital importance,' be said, with a smile, •for she wrote it directly after I was gone, and sent it immediately.' •I am glad to hear that she was well enough to sit up and write,' said Hardwicke, to whom only a few momenta before Jerrold had been giving an acoount of bis wife's illness, wherein he represented that she oould not raise ber head from her pillow, so great her sufferings.

The worthy Captain, who, until then, had never noticed anything curious in these ratheroontradiotory circumstances felt rather oonfused, and looked even more so. •I dare say sbe had written it before,' he stammered and, twisting tbe letter over and over, continued, 'I wonder who she wants to write to at a public house. However, if you will be so kind

The smiling gentleman waa only too delighted, and he immediately departed. 'Poor fool!' he said to himself, as he glanced back at-the house. 'He lets her ao ju9t what sho likes. She seems to twist him round ber linger any way she ohooses. I don't know now it is, but, upon my word, I would willingly give a gooi round sum for the sake of getting up a little discord in that worthy household. And, if she was not a dreadful dowdy provincial, I should feel half inclined to venture on a mild flirtation. By the way, wonder what she is like? How was it I did not look at her portrait when I was there tbe other evening? I suppose there is one.'

The Captain, on his way back to the house, certainly did think more of tbe circumstance of tbe letter than be bad done hitherto.

It was rather odd that his wife sholild not have mentioned to him ber desire to send a letter when he was going to the inn.

The girl's manner, too, when he met ber, seemed to imply some sort of attempt at secrecy.

How, again, was it that bis wife should write to some one at a publio house? Aod what was it about?

It was altogether very odd, indeed and again did a feeling of gathering uneasiness creep over bim.

Of course, there were a hundred and one reasons why she should have uoted as she did but yet he felt somewhat uncomfortable, in spite ot his effort not to do so.

Somehow, during tbe last two or three days, so many odd circumstances had occurred, all of wbich might probably have been explained with the greatest ease, but yet were not explained, and left a rather unpleasant impression behind them.

Thoughts such as these I bave do* scribed ran through his brain, and puzzled and vexed him more than would be readily believed.

But he was doomed to a much greater vexation still, before the end of his walk.

Falling into conversation with an old laboring man, who, recognizing him, bade him good day, they began to talk about various matters connected with the sea, for tho laborer had atone time been a sailor. •You bave storms on lands, too, now and then,'said Jerrold •even down in such a sheltered nook as this.' 'A storm here, sir?' repeated the man, In surprise. 'Yes, you had a bad thunder storm, had you not, soir.e timo ago? Why, the lightning struck those great trees at the cornor of tbe garden!'

The man smiled incredulously.

4

'When, sir?' he asked. 'I don't know when, but it did occur, did it not?' 'Not aa I've beard of,' said tbe man, 'I was one that helped cut them down. They were as flne a piece of limber as you oould well wish to see, but they were not injured in the least,'

Jerrold 11 itened in amazement. Could he be dreaming? Did he heat aright?

He felt quite positive that Eleanor had told bim that tbe reason why tbe trees bad been felled was that they had been struck by lightning. lbe reader will recollect this circumstance and also that Jerrold was very much vexed at bearing of tbe circumstance, aa tbe trees bad been associated with many of bis earliest and happiest recollections.

It would, indeed, have been a cruei thing, to bave cut them down without/ soiii«» very preaeing necessity for so dot

Perils ps, after all though, tbe man wss mistaken. 'Are you quite positive?' he asked. •Positive of what, sir?' •That those trees were not struck by itningf' light. |Qulte, sir.'

ow, be quite sure, for I bave particular reason for wishing to know.' 'I would stake my life on it, sir.'

Jerrold turned away witbout another word. [to bk ooirrnrcsD.]

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TO CONSUMPTI VSIR^

a very simple vsgstsbls remedy for the speedy ana permanent cure of Cohsump-

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out

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who

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foil directions for successfully

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Mr, Dn. CharmmP. Maiishaix, No. 28 Niagara St., Buffido, a. Y.