Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 42, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 13 April 1878 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TKRRE HAUTE, APRIL 13,1878

?V Written for The Mall.

'TWAS BETTER THAN WE EXPECTED.

?V*'Y «t fir J. fcHXIJA We've often planned oar future llveA» •ft providence rej.wted

Bat when we've murmured at our lot, %. Twaa better than we expected. vi'-S Oor plans seem never to mature

God ways we've not detected "Hi® way* were ways of pleasanm^gs, Twas better than we expected.

-'4

l«s ways,«o different from our own, We often have reflected

But when "His will," not ours, was done, Twas better tnan we expected.

Yes, His are ways of pleasantness, His paths with peace connected Oar paths were strewn with thorns and stones,

Twas better than wc expected. And all the time we've worked and planted, Oft failed: then felt dejected The reasonlls, He worked His will,

Twas better than we expected.

He sees, and knows, our deeds and thoughts, Our ways are close Inspected Yet If in them His will was done,

Twas better than we expected.

If we our lives to Him confide,

4 1

We shall be well protected Then truly say, when life Is done,

Twas better than weexpected. Youngstown, Ind., April 5,1878.

The Family Curse,

-?i" 11

A DOMESTIC STORt/

MHS KEBKCCA HAUDINQ DAVIS,

Author of "Llieln the Iron Mills," "Ballas Ualbralth," "John Andros," etc.

CHAPTER I. *»h

f* n''

'There is no family but has its demon, that follows it from generation to generation—' 'With a blessing—oftenest with a blessing, we'll hope, said the old gentleman hastily. 'I'll let down tbe bars, and we'll go through tbe potato field to tbe house. Allow me!'—holding out one of bis fat iittle hands to escort her but with a nod, abe stalked on through tbe muddy ruts, leaving him to pick his steps behind ber. 'We have a fine crop of mercers coming on,' be said, stopping to poke bis stick into the leafy hillocks with a prod of encouragement. •They'll all be rotten on your bands before spring. They're watery. Take my advice and never plant an eye of them.'

Tbe smile died out of bis face suddenly. 'But they're planted,'he said. The little clergyman kept silence for awhile after that. Demons and causeless curses were intangible horrors but what were they to do without potatoes? A dish of mealy fellows in their jackets, with a pitcher of buttermilk, made a royal dinner for him and Jacqueline many a time. They always contrived to have a bit of meat lor Nalbro.

The Bun was not warm that evening, but Mrs. Cortrell took out ber great handkerchief, with her name in halfInch letters on the oenter, and wiped her face vigorously, looking back with astonishment at the pursy little figure leiwurely coming up beh'ind her at the round, apple face and ruddy cheeks, to which tbe framing of white hair and whiskers, and black, shaggy eye-brows

ave an oddly cleau, enjoyable look, spite of his shabby black suit, he always seemed as if he was just fresh from tbe bath. •You're as cool as cool, Mr. Jaquett,' she said Indignantly. •Yes I don't think I ever knew an air of more delicious temper than tbat of to-day.' Thoy had reached a little plateau overlooking the river, and he stopped—a bare spaoe in tbe grass showed tbat he baited there every day. •What do you think of this, now?' waving his baud over the great landsoape, and turning to her triumphantly. •It's so-so,' good-humoredly, as if .dealing with a child. 'But if my advice was asked, that smoke yonder would all be consumed in the foundries. They'd

?galn

three per cent by it,' •Three per cent!' looking wistfully at the misty purple waves which settled into a plane or Inky darkness over the lar-off mill town. Blaok, vapory columns rose here and there through the distanoe, like tbe shadows of gathering

Said,

lants visible eveu in noonday ana bleak mountain ridges barred in the horizon beyond. 'Three per «ent 1 Yet we would lose something, I think,' mildly. He was wont to bring Jackey out at sunset to see this far off cloud landscape dyed with saffron aud blood red. •Soot's soot,' snuffed Mrs. Oortrell. But be called it bis Turner gallery. Now this hollow below here, this bend in tbe river was a quiet little Hunt. For the old gentleman had seen a few pictures in his youth, and their names were yet dally on his tongue.

It was a raw spring day the Ohio, a yellow, rushing flood, cut the range of pale green hills, on one of which they stood one or two cows wandered along its pebbly bank at tbe right, set back on the uinkory woods, was the old square stouo Jaquett house, one wall bulging out, tbe shingled roof black and curled with age, but with its windows and hall door thrown heartily open to the sun, and wearing its clinging masses of trumpet creeper as nallantly as some worn old veteran the last gay trapping of his youth. On one side of the house, Jackey's garden aloped down the hill, the white Poland hens scratching drowsily through the shady bean rows and bonier# of pale hyacinths at the other was the apple orchard, with Its beehives, and Jackey herself, looking along tbe hedges for a chance ripe berry, and singing, in her shrill treble:

When I can read my title clear." Mrs. Cortrell looked down into this hollow between the hills, measuring the number of acre*. Mr. Jaquett looked down also. Tbe little scene was always new to him—always brought a sense of security with it, and peace and God's protection, which made his heart ache like pain «\iv lines have been east In pleasant places' be said gently. 'Pleasant enough, if tbe plats* belonged to you! But ymi'*e no interest in this property, Mr. Jaquett?' •No ownership—no, with a audden reserve of manner. •So I've heard. Yet it was in your famIly, oh?' 'William Jaquet was the owner—aay uncle. He died twenty years ago. I was to have the use or tw house and grounds, rent free, until the heir arrived al a certain age. Will yon come down now, Mr*. Oortrell The air Is growing raw. and the lira will be pleasant. Jackey will have supper ready too, no do jhl

Bat Mr*. Cortrell had sealed herself on a broken sycamore root. Her hand

being put to the plough, she never turn' ed back. 'When does this aforesaid heir become of age?' she said. •In about a year from now.' 'Hum! I asked your son Nalbro If you owned the property, and he knew nothing about it. Now that was so thoroughly like you Msrylanders! Fancy an Ohio boy, tiorn and raised on this ground, ana never troubling his wits to know who it belonged tol And yon have no mind either to talk about tbe matter. Father Jaquett, I see that plain enough!' with a shrewd nod.

The little clergyman replied at first with only sn uneasy, forced smile, but said nresently: •We are Marylanders, as yon say William Jaquett's will was recorded there. But Nalbro, as you know, was born here. He never saw nor heard of it.'

Mrs. Cortrell half shut her gray eyes as he spoke, sounding his answer with some mental plummet. Apparently, she brought up nothing. 'Well,' with a baffled jerk of her bead, 'I'd have been glad to think the land was yours. There is outcome In it. I hoped Nalbro was not dependent on his nddlo-faddle of sinithery. You know why I am interested in Nalbro, I suppose, Father Jaquett

He railed and blushed as a girl might have done. 'I think I understand. Jenny—' •Of course, Jenny. Not that there's any betrothal but a mother needs to keep her eyes open. So I rode over to talk to you about this matter—and others.'

An omlnons silence followed these last words. Mrs. Cortrell took off her gay bonnet, and trotted it up and down on ber knee, whle she stared thoughtfully at the smoky horizon, collecting ber forces. But Mr. Jaquett stood more at ease. He was somehow not half so much In dread of his inquisitor, now tbat the orange ribbons were off her head. She was a good woman, he told himself again and again, full of vital piety. He tried to rid himself of how lean she was, and how the sleazy green silk clung about her rawboned, angular limbs. She always represented but one idea to the mild little man (who was a century behind bis age)—that of the water cure. She was a sort of medical Undine to him. Her skin, her nose, eyes and lashes, were all of different shades of faded yellow. So was the wisp of dry hair knotted tightly up behind. He wondered, as he stood gently regarding her, if she bad not washed out all the strength and color in her eternal sitz baths and douches.

As for Mrs. Cortrell, she had very different ideas now in her hard pate from any trumpery fancies about form and color. She must put some sort of wrench on this silly man to get the information he wanted. She had lived neighbors with him for half a lifetime. Yet, weak and gingerly as she always called him, there was a certain barrier of reserve about him which she had never passed. It was ridiculous in an Episcopalian preacher to keep his affairs so closely to himself. As for their own minister, Dowie, she knew every penny that went In or was laid out of that house. It was ber duty. Didn't Cortrell pay two thirds of tbe salary, beside hams? She broke out suddenly •Well, Mr. Jaquett, what do you propose to do when the heir comes in? I'm willing to advise with you. What are your plans?' •Plans! I. have no plans,' he stammered. 'It is a year from now.' 'A year! What's a year? I would suppose Jackey weuld have some foresight she's a woman. Why sir,'—reasoning down as to a very small child— pou will be—be very hard pushed, ineed—not to use stronger language. I don't mean to wound you, Father Jaquett. I mean kindness, I'm sure.' •I'm sure you mean kindness. So, now that we've settled it,let us go down to supper.' 'How have we settled it?' testily. 'Let me see it is two years since you received anything from the missionary fund?' •Ob! yes, quite two years,' delighted at the accora, on one point, into which they were able to fall. 'And one person oould not live on tbe pittance which the few church people here pay you?' 'No, certainly not,' emphatically. Why, my dear madam'—with a fresh little gush of enthusiasm—'they haven't fKA nriAftnfl 'Then'—stroking down her glossy skirt,with tho air of an argument closed what are you going to do?'

He scaroely waited for her to finish. Why, there's Nalbro,'he cried. 'You have forgotten Nalbro.'

The sun was down, and the sudden sooty twilight which belongs to the regions where bituminous coal is burned began to darken about them. Tbe river mist was damp and chilly.

There was an unwonted dignity dilating Mr. Jaquett's paunchy little person, and an anery twinkle in his eyes. 'Y»u are'an old friend, Mrs. Cortrell, and I have tbe more right to hold you to account,' he fald. 'You have known my son since the very day of his birth have you any right to suspect him? He's a rough, headlong dog, maybe but, though I am his father, I will say tbat I never knew sterner integrity in a man and as for thonghtfhlnesss for me, or deference to any woman, old or ugly, why he's far beyond Jackey for tbat far beyond.' 'Yea that is his mother. Tbe French blood of the Tembrokea.'

Whatever hidden significance Mrs. Oortrell intended ber words to convey was quite intelligible to her hearer. A constrained pause followed, in which be looked at her steadily, trying, as men wiil where women are concerned, to find the most charitable and pleaaantest

lnt in which to meet her. He never seen lees acrid conceit In her sallow face than now. It was sincere. Suppose It was gloomy? She was a mother, and had aright to be morbidly anxious for her daughter's happiness, and to exaggerate spectral dangers.

She folded her checkered shawl about her at last, and stood up. 'You cant find a word in praise of Nalbro to ubich I won't say "Amen" Father Jaquett,' she said emphatically. 'I always bad a Uking for the boy. Many's the day he's came to me for his breakfast, when be would be ont truant all night, trapping, over the Ridge, and afraid to come home. You held tight reins on tbe boy but not tight enough. If he had been mine,' with vehemence, 'he should never have been an hour or a minute alone. I would have given up every pursuit or duty or life to watch over ana to save him. How do you know when tbe curse may Ml?' 'I do not believe in corsee. God is good.' He walked and down tbe plateau. She was sorry to see him so hurt, but was perfectly willing to be the one who did ft. It often became ber painlbl daty to rip open the groves where people had buried their unwholesome corpses, but she never shirked her duty. She watched him, feeling like a cool nar«(«a wbeme patient to tinder the knife, •God is good.' He did not say It aloud now. He had stopped, leaning on the wormfeoce a film over his

did

notauswer.

TERRE HAUTE aAl RL AY EVEN 1JN AljL.

eyea so tbat he could dot fcee the wide, melancholy valley, out of which all the sunshine had died, or tbe red and yellow pillars of furnace-fire against the blaok northern horizon. It was the wife of his youth of whom be was thinking. It was as If Hester wss beside him, just as cemely, and wholesome, and light-hearted as when she used to sit with Nalbro at her breast by the fire. Since she died, whenever be was in trouble he saw her suddenly, just in tbat WHV» 'I do not believe tbat any onrse can come from Hester to her son,' he ssid, speaking slowly. 'I do not believe tbat ruin will come to him through tbe blood she gave him. and the milk with which she suckled him. I know how she loved him then God knew It, snd He had the care of us.' •Oh! If yod put it In tbat way'—disconcerted for words, but only for a moment —'dear Hester would have been loth to bring disaster on even her enemy—anybody knows tbat—much less on her boy butshewasaTembroke, and facts are facts. You know tbe fate of every male Tembroke for generations.' 'I know that Nalbro has lived no far a bealtby.heartylife.found in mind and body. This talk of curse upon a family la, tome, like the cheap hir ol tawdry novels.' •No,' calmly 'this is a real horror, because it is an everyday fact. When I read of wailing banshees or l. oodied ghosts rising, from time to time, predict ruin on a fated race, I wond'r that the sensation-mongers have not seized on the evil spirits that actually do dog every family from generation to generation—a disease of body or soul—consumption, or insanity, or theft, or worse passions. I was a teacher before I married Cortrell, and I used to have an odd hankering for the subject in books. Since tben,as I grew older, I've observed" it in families.' •A cheei ful study!' trying to laugh unconcernedly. 'Yes, it was very pleasant and curious. The Cortrell blood was quite clean, and so was mine. But I've watched these demons pass from father to son, from father to son I've seen them peek and peer into the light in the diff9rent faces where they belonged, and come out slowly, slowly, until the whole man was corrupt and fit for the grave then be was dragged down into it. I never knew tbemstory so marked as in the Tembroke family. You know what evil spirit hounded them down—none better than you.'

•Well, I came to remind you of it to day,Father Jaquett I thought .vou might have forgotten. To be sure, Nalbro is clear now, but God only knows bow long he may remain so. If my advice bad been asked, I would have pursued a different course with him. But there is Jackey signaling you to come to supper. Shall we go down?' •I'll follow you in a moment, Mrs. Cortrell. You'll excuse me if I allow you to go alone.' 'Nonsense no ceremony with me. You're not worrying about Nalbro now? You look peaked and pale about tbe jaws. If you're going to stay here and worry, I'll not go down a step. What's the use of complaining of evils you can't help? That's what I tell Cortrell. It wasn't through the Jaquetts the trouble came.' 'I am not oomplalning the trouble has not come,' with a feeble smile. 'I'm sure it is I who ought to be anxious. Suppose that Jane should marry him? But there! I did not mean to say a word more. It is necessary, or I would not speak at all, you know. I'll go down. Ihope Jackey has pancakes for Supper. I want to show her how to make them properly. She uses soda. Soda is ruin to tbe stomacb.'

AH she went down the path, ber firm, quick steps clicked off the time for a minute or two, and then the wide stretch of bills fell back into the evening melancholy and silence which usually drove tbe cheerful little parson indoors. But now he sat quite still, not even looking down into the little hollow, where the windows of the house began to glow red and warm, wbile outside, his Poland hens were stowing themselves away comfortably in tbe mulberry tree, and tbe brown heifer waited in tbe barn yard to be milked. This was generally his busiest time, for be was a fussv little man, and must fasten every lock himself at night, and, with his own eyes, see that even the pigs were properly foddered and under shelter.

But tbe house seemed to have been blotted out of tbe world for him now. It was an hour or more before he was roused by Nalbro shoutingfor him. He answered, and then got up and waited. 'Halloo, father! Why here you are. I've been clear to the mill for you. Here, I've got this just sit down, won't you?' He was out of breath with racing up the hill, and stood tugging to get a box full of iron and wood work out of his pocket.1 'There goes a darn tor Jackey. It's that infernal valve—I ben your pardon, sir,—but it's tbat valve—that wouldn't open, and so kept ua back.' •I know—certainly, Brother,certainly. Well, have you succeeded?' the usual light kindling in bis face again, sitting do wu

and

poking tbe bits of iron about

with his forefinger,as one who bad thom in wholesome awe. 'It's right as a trifet now,'triumphantly. 'Just hold this rod. I'll show you how it works. There's tbe great difficulty overoome. I started for home as soon as I had it soldered. I wanted to •how you how It worked.' They waited breathless a moment, bending over tbe slow moving model, and then Nalbro drew back, his face as red as a coal. 'Now sir, whatdo you think of that?' •It is a complete success, my son.'

Yss, it's a complete suooesa,' emphatically. *1 tell you, father,' lowering bis voice to a whisper, 'it's snch a success that I'll have my patent out by fall, and In a year they'll have my engine on every boat on tbe river. It will be something worth living for to see that day. But what's been the matter?' with a startled look at tbe old man's face. •Nothing* iny son. Yon—you're just the same as usual, Nalbro?' with a pitiful hesitancy and scrutiny of the younger man. 'You're quite well? You doirt feel any alteration, of late, in your tastes or—desires?' •I? I'm never 111.' with ponied amazement, putting his hand up to his tangled black whiskers. 'I need shaving, and tbat makes von think me haggard. Den't be anxious about me/ tapping him half tenderly on tbeaboulder. 'I'm tough as leather. When I was through with my baby diseases, I believe I waa warranted sound for a thousand years.' •Mrs. Oortrell was here,* said Mr. Jaquett? as he prepared to go. 'She la what one might call an alarmist, I think?'

Nalbro laughed and whistled •I left ber and Jackey hard at it down there. They bad their supper together. She's out of tbe way now, and we can go down in comfort. I think she means well, father. She was very fond of me when I was a boy.'

They walked down the bill in silence, Father Jaquett leaning on his son's arm, and looking at bitti furtively, from time to time, with an increasing content and composure. 'I feel uneasy about the potatoea,' be

be, anxiously, stopping when tbey reached the stile. 'We aepend a great deal upon tbe potatoea. And the heifer—' 'Mrs. Cortrell has been among the mercers, eh?' giving the stile a twirl as he went through. 'She pressed me so hard the other night about our ways and means, tbat I felt premonitory twinges of starvation. I took it for

{ongasyou

[ranted you would bold this ground ss lived, sh?' Mr Jaquett was brushing some dust from bis clerical shovel-bat, and did not reply until be bad carefully adjusted it on bis head again. 'William Jaquett's will was peculiar,' he said, at last. 'The property was to remain unimproved uutil bis heir was of an age to i»berit,lu a year from now. 'Then you—' Nalbro stopped abruptly. Something in bis father's manner warned him that tbe subject was unwelcome. 'Well, no matter we'll have tbe patent then,' cheerfully but his face, into which all his thoughts lesked and lay open to the sight of every passer-by, turned uneasily to the fields and house. No money could pay for the loss of tbe old borne. There was no shifting or disloyalty in the attachments of the rough fellow. He kept yet, put away, the battered stock of bis first gun, and tbe cheap fiddle be scraped on when a boy not from any maudlin sentiment, but as hearty reminders of a hearty life. There was not a stump or a stone of tbe farm which did not belong to this life. But be said nothing of all tbi9. 'The mercers are aa dry as chaff,' stooping to root one out, and run his thumb-nail into the eye. 'Do yoa see, sir? I hope'—jerking it away—'I'll know tbe lucky fellow that takes this place. I'll give him a hint or two. I've studied ied out its capabilities thoroughly, I fancy. Tbat swamp should be drained first, and tbe hill tested for iron.' •You'd not touch the timber, Nalbro?' hastily. •Of course not. I hope it will never be cut while yeu or I are alive to see.'

One would nave thought, to hear them talk, tbat neither man was conscious of any worthy difference in their age. To all the country-side, the old clergy man's quiet gentleness and white hairs made him 'Father Jaquett but to his son, he was always a boy but little older than himself. It was only to Nalbro be would tell now those famous stories of the pioneering days, fuller of rollicking fun than any ever vou heard. No one but Nalbro knew the story of how he first met pretty Hester Tembroke at a fox hunt on the Chesapeake shore, or had seen the bundle of dingy letters, in a little, illegible scrawl, ill spelled, but so full of a woman's modest love that the blush rose to her son's cheeks as he read them. He kept step with Nalbro as with no one else, leaning but lightly on his arm as they walked together, and falling into almost a jaunty pace, in spito of tue rheumatic twinge in both of his legs.

Tbey stepped, as usual,at the kennels. The kennels were a feature in the Jaquett place, Nalbro had built them all himself. In a minute, his precious troop were all about him—tbe two mastiffs, the setters, the terriers, and Nicev, with her litter—wbile be chopped the meat tor their supper, and forked their straw witb grave solicitude. •Here's Blunder with tbe rest'— touching the head of a gigantic^ hound, and laughing significantly for it was a suro sign wtiep Blund©r was banished from tbe hearth-rug, tbat Jackey's temper bad gone up to a point beyond blood beat. Jackey herself, meanwhile, bad come down behind the gooseberry bushes, and, unnoticed, was looking over into the keunele, her pretty arms crossed on the fence. 'Which do you think is the strongest of Nicey's pups, sir? I want it for Yatigbao.' •Of course you want it forvaugyan," said Jackey, with tbe unnatural calmness which lorebodes tempests in the air of women. 'Or Vaugban wants it. Is there anything you have that Vaugban don't want, brother ?—your gun, or your dogs, or your clothes Some day it will be your body or your soul tbat he will need to serve bis purpose. He'll have them, too, if I donTt mistake.'

Young Jaquett stooped lower over tbe dogs, tbe blood rushing to his face. 'You're talking to my friend, Jackey,' a id re •You are intemperate my daughter,' Mr. Jaquett interposed hastily. •William Vaughat* is a singularly pure and amiable voung man. I tbink his friendship for" Brother is remarkable. They have been three years together now, in Kansas and Oregon, and in the workshop, without one word of jarring.' •Well, that's not been my fault' broke in Nalbro. 'Ive been rough with bim a dozen tiroes but you migbt as well box against a pillow of silk as try to fight with Will. I've tbe temper of one of these dogs, but his is a man's. Jackey don't understand men'—loftily. •Well, perhaps not,' she laughed, good naturedly. 'Nevertheless, you're a bateyed fellow. As for Vaugban'—turning to her father—'be always seemed to me like a blue eyed, fair-haired Mepbis topheles. When I see his handsome, shallow face over Nalbro's shoulder, coming in, I think it is some unclean spirit that is on bis track, aud will grip bim at last.' 'You read too many novels, Jacqueline. Mr. Vaugban is a most exemplary character. He has none of the vices of young men.'

But be was silent as they walked tip to the bouse together. Her Idle words haunted and vexed him strangely. Nalbro fell behind in tue narrow path wiin bis aister. •All women do not agree with yon about Will,' he said, trying to speak indifferently. 'Jenny Cortrell, for instance.'

Jackey laughed. 'She! she ha* as much knowledge of human nature as tbat week-old cal in the paddock there— or knowledge of anything else. Jenny Cortrell! Well, *he% a friend of mine, but she's like that'—picking a fairy-like dandelion ball. 'Just aa white and soft but what does it amount to?' squeezing It into a miserable little wiap of fluff and brown seeds, and throwing It down contemptuously. •I thought you were fond of b«»r, Sis.' 'Didn't say she was a friend of mine But I can see ber faults.' 'Women's friendship is as wonderful a thing to me as women.' *1 sappoee It's living with ber mother, reflectively. 'That mill would grind tbe strength out of anything. Mrs. Cortrell told me to-night the pancakes were heavy, and there waa not enough

Jenny, matter what her mother aaya of the pupa. Sbe*s In there'—nodding to tbe bouse. •Who?' 'Jenny. The old lady's frona. I did not press her to stay. I bore the saltpetre bat that last speech about Nloejr was too much Cor me. I hate tbe ugly beast enough hot cobody shall say she's not pure olood.'

I* supper ready, my daughter?' YM, father. Your favorite Jenny is In fee boose. I suppose'—lowering her voice to Nalbro—'as abe la there, we can have no reading to-night.'

•No, she does not oare for it, you know'—hurrying past her up tbe stairs. 'Now he's gone to shave and dress 1' thought Jacqueline, as she went in and stood with her back to the dining room fire. Men were ail alike. Of course, Jenny did not care for reading. She was the very dumbest girl in the low clsss at scbool. Yet she was Father

low

Jaquett's favorite of all the young people who came to tbe bouse, and Nalbro would have let out his life's blood, drop by drop, for ber. Tbe angry tears came to Jackey^ eyes. She had petted Jenny herself uutil ber brother became infatuated. Now, she told him daily that there was nothing in tbe girl—nothing. If you counted a soft, pale cheek, and a droop of the eyfclltt, and a low voice, for a woman—then, indeed! Yet she could bear ber father chatting merrily in the parlor, making far more ettort than when tbe Bishop himself came to see him and as for iNalbro!

Now, Jackey was a hungry devourer of books and music, though her supply was ot the scantiest. She played he'r old half-dozen marches and opera airs on the jingling piano as carefully as though she bad been in training for an artist, and her volumes of Tennyson and Sartor Resartas were worn to rags at the edges. They were ber only glimpses of modern literature. Nalbro called them transcendental trasb. Scott's were tbe only books,which did not treat of bis trade tbat he would read. He wanted romance, to set bis blood on fire, when be bad done work. As for Thackeray and Dickens—must be go to books to learn every-day people and their ways He used to go roaring about the house, in his grand bass voice: "Roderlgh vlch Alpine! Dhu hoe! leroe."

In the evenings tuey had long talks usually Mr. Jaquett used to fall back upon the days of Addison and Steele. Then was the golden noon of letters, he said. Since then there bad been but a decline. At odd times, Nalbro would euliven the talk with some of bis stories of Kansas and Oregon where Vaughan had induced him to go and waste three years.

When Jenny was there, the evenings were different. If they read, she was sleepy, and whether tbey talked of Shakespeare or tbe Comanches, she replied with the same Madonna likestnile, which Jackey called an unmeaning simper. No wonder Jackey, who thought her own Intellect far better tban either her lather's or brother's, felt cheated and uuderrated when the two men allowed her to sit in silence to listen delighted to Jenny's innocent babble about her crochet work or ber muscovy ducks. To be sure, she used to look like a beautiful picture in tbe firelight, as she sat stroking Blunder's yellow hide. •Out of this Be off to your kennel, sir,' said Jackey, remembering it now, pushing him roughly off tbe rug, and going to summon them to supper. But Jenny, meeting bim at tbe door, brought him back in ber usual timid way, aud fed him from her own plate at Bupper, wbile Nalbro, like tbe great, stupid lout that he was, looked on with heart in his mouth. Miss Cortrell would not have fulfulled a city ideal of a white solt (airy of a woman. Country diet of salt meat and pie crust is unfavorable to milk and roses in the complexion. Jenny's skin was thick, and of one even, unhealthy tinge. But she was slight, delicately made and poised, and was graceful as alight willow branch. She had an abundance of soft, yellowish hair, large', pleading eyes, looking out of melancholy shadows, and full lips and breast. She wore her hair loosely knotted, and her dove oolored dresses long and flowing. Jackey called this slovenly and blowsy, but menjalwavs thought it artistic, witb vague notions or statue aud pictures tbat they had never seen.

Jackey's dining room was warm, the supper good ana prettily served. She was a notable housewife 'Bee' her father sometimes called ber. She was busy and neat aud black, too, compared to the lazy blonde beside her. And then Jackey had her sting she kept berself from using it to-night by hard effort. Mrs. Cortrell had left ber teeth self' against all mankind, and ber eyes more implacably opened to Nalbro's idiotic folly in trying to make a wire out of-a mere posturing doli. In vain Jenny gently praised the pancaKes, or scalded her swan like throat witb cup after cup of tea ber efforts were received with chilling politeness. •I'll come next spring, if you'll let me, dear Jacqueline, and learn how you spice these cherries,' cooed Jenny. •You'll be quite welcome, Jane. But your ruamma puts poor me to sbatne in my snydi housekeeping. Besides, we'll have no house to keep or live in by next spring, she tells me. I never bad beard of this musty old will. But Mrs. Cortrell is always so accurate and well informed.' •We will not go forward a year to borrow trouble, Sis,'said Nalbro. 'We'll go in and have some music.' Her words bad jarred on him like a coarse band shaking bim out of a delicious sleep. Why makttsucti a bother about musty wills and hou&es to live in Tbe warmth and light were soft and brilliant about bim—not tbe common coal fire which tbe others saw. Tbe lamps shone down aslant on Jenny's cbeek, showing a tinge of unusual color. He fancied his eyes bad brought it tbere he could see the pulse beuing in ber throat against tbe thin white ruffle. At Jackey's rough answer, ber ringed fingers had trembled and ber eyes bad fallen suadenly. Sun ly that was a tear under tbe light, curly lash!

H» got up hurriedtvand followed her. His lather spoke to Mm, but be did not bear. But, uutaide of the door, when the cold wind from without struck on him, be stopped.

Tbe uiusty will and tbe penniless future were fact*. 'If my engine fails, we'll be paupers,' be said to himself. 'I bave no right to—I'll not trust myself there.'

He went out, and in tbe dark walked np and d'Wu tne tan bark path to tbe bam.

Tbe fog was heavy rrom tbe river, and the chill grateful to bis heated blood. His ateps grew quieter after a while, and he began to whistle, bis constant habit when working oat a problem tL at vexed him.

He bad alwaye half consciously looked forward to making Jenny Oortrell bis wife they had played alone together before either of tbem could apeak plainly. In school, tbey bad kept apart from other children—just they two together he had never taken note of any other woman. She had never said she loved him—not even by a gianoe of tboee timid downcast eyes. Yet from tbe time wben a young man's fancy ann fueling begin to^beat bis blood, be bad planned how ne would bring ber home to the old parsonage,

bow

nappy and

loving a family It would be, and how his work and successes woold suffice to make tbe old plsee ftill of plenty and oomfort for tbem all.

He walked up and down for about half an hour, an then, seeing the dining room cleared and tbe tamp on tbe tablo, went In, first stopping to gianoe in at the kennels, and ahnt the latch of Nicey's door. He turned resolutely away from tbe open door of the room

SWl^-cl

where tbe girls were, through which the light streamed snd Jeunie's rippling murmur came, and going into the bare dining rcom. seated himself, his model on the table before bim. He never had noticed before how faded was the paper on tbe walls, how patched and ihin tbe carpet. Mr. Jaquett in bis easy chair, was reading tbe Recorder placidly, toasting bis slippered feet on tbe

fender.

He glanced at his son, took off his spectacles, and leaned over the t^ble. •What Is it, Nalbro?' •This will, father I've been such a tbougfejtless, inconsequent dog, and this is a back handed blow I did not expect —it staggers me.'

Mr. Jaquett did not reply at once •It interferes with some plans you bad made for tbe future •It will interfere with tbe future for all of us,' evasively. But no matter, father. There is the cure for all of our troubles,' rapping the table with his model, with a gay langb, as be looked over bis shoulder at the old man behind him.

Mr. Jaquett's heart gave a sudden proud throb. Stern fronted Job (who wss the favorite warricr of the meek little man) ccu'.d have had n~ nobler face than tbat of his boy, he thought, full as It was now of smothered pain and the gallant daring of youth. He drew back as Nalbro bent over his iron again, and stood on tbe rug measuring him critically. &

Nalbro Jaquetfwaa a masculine man there was something reassuring and heartening even In his broad, brawny back, to his father's eye. lie came round to*where be could look at.tbe strongly emphasized face, with its coalblack hair and whiskers—the lamplight full on it. He tried to see it as a stranger would do. It was a powerful face, stern, yet jolly too, and full of humor. A leader among men, and beloved of women, BrOUier Jaquett, as all the neighborhood called him with Jackey, belonged, as he had always done, altogether to every day life there was no tragedy foreboded in look or tone no demon peering out: no element of disaster which would drag the soul of the healthy, unimaginative, hard working machinist toward these nameless dark slopes into death, where men wrestle with unseen powers of evil, and sink at last in their bold into the illimitable years beyond the grave from which, call as we will, there never comes to us tidings nor answer.

The kindly little preaobcr migbt thrust these, tbe darkest problems of life, away out of his sight—there was no danger for bis boy.

He leaned on Nalbro's shoulder for an instant. By some quick instinct, the young man felt the oaress In the careless touch, and looked up, thrusting aside tbe tool9. •No, I do not want you now. I am going to tbe study. Come to me in half an hour. There is something 1 wish to tell you.'

He waited to stir tbe fire, that he might watch bim a moment longer with fond, gratified eyes. There was no d«*nger—none.

CHAPTER II.

Jackey helped old aunt Sally to dear tbe supper table. Tbe old woman was very feeble she had been a slave of Mr. Jaquetjt's lather. Running here and tbere to save her a few steps, pat Jackey into a better humor. She came in her swarthy cheeks red, and ber eves bright. She found ker friend leaning pensively over tbe fire. Her heart smote ber for ber rough uess. •You're not hurt with me. Jane?' in ber sharp, headlong tone. 'You girls used to call me a porcupine at school, and tbe quills were unfortunately far out to-day.'

Jenny's lovely eyes widened and lightened, and she put up her rosebud moutb to be kissed. Jackey pocked at it. 'Oh! yes.' So much amiability caused her a slight nausea. 'You ought to be In a book, Jane—violet e^es, golden hair, honeyed sweetness and all. You migbt have been lifted bodily out of any romance. Sit down.' 'Come on the sofa beside me, dear,' said Miss Cortrell, gently, ai she drew her cloud of white, flossy netting from its bag, but Jackey perched herself on a low, straight backed chair, before a great basket of clothes fresh froin the wash, snipping, turning, darning swiftly, ber bead set implacably on one side, as if tbe shirts and stockings were human beings out of whom she clipped bits of depravity. She sbot a shrewd gianoe at Jenny from time to time, snd thinking ber own thoughts, while tbey .gossiped of tbe last meeting of tbe Mite Society or tbe new fashion for summer bats.

One could not help loviog tbe stupid pretty thing, after all, she was so weak and clinging and if she were as characterless as so much wax or pulp, why Noll could mould her to suit himself. Nalbro might be a fool but the deed was done. Done. He loved the woman and he was not a man who ever would love another.

But what if Jenny married Vaugban? Jackey looked at ber with tbe same fierce, jealous contraction at ber heart which bis disappointment might have caused to Nalbro bimself. It was a hot,

Sackey'e

uiok beating heart that throbbed in broad little cbest, and it belonged as yet altogether to Father Jaquett and this good natured, black-a-vised brother of hers. His wrongs were ber wrongs.

But, pabaw! As if any one Oould be preferred to Noll Jaquett! Then she looked at Jenny again. That oorner of tbe fireside seemed to belong to ber. She would be bright and sweet in the old bouse, simpleton ss she was, if she had energy enough to even sew a button on a shirt. But tben the old bome would not be theirs. They would be paupers but for Nalbro. •You did not help witb the spring cleaning last week, Jane?' abruptly breaking the silence. •Ob! I never do. Why, Jackey dear?' •You'd not make a good wife for a poor man, then,'with a vicious snip of her scissors. 'No?'Jenny's sweet little ripple of laughter followed, and the violet eyes went mildly up to Jackey's face. They rested there.

The girls talked of half a dosen other subject* bat still tbey rested tbere steadily, perhaps because tbey were too indolent to move away. Tbey wandered leisurely to tbe fire at last. 'William Vaugban & tomiag,' said Jepny, In her soft monotone.

Jacqueline turned to tbe window and threw up the sash. Tbe fog was thick and tbe n%ht silent. 'There Is nobody,' she said. •I tbink he is coming.'

was

some minutes before alight,

soft footfall was heard far up the road. Jenny tonched her obeli like ears, with a amUe. 'They never deceived me yet,' she said, and fell back into her usual lazy watching of tbe flash and fall of the parti colored flamerf.

Jackey waited until Mr. angban wss In the room. She welcomed bim with sn effusion of cbeerfelness and hospital-

[Continued en Third Paf*.]