Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 12, Number 36, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 March 1882 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, MARCH 4, 1882

VIDA CAROLAN;

or,

FATAL BEAUTY.

CHAPTER XI.

IN HERTFORD-STREET.

I told ber then, in that wild time, Tbe love I knew she lone bad seen: I Tbe accusing pain that burned like crime,

toire

V'

Lord Lytton.

"Mr. Devereux, you will favor us?" It was Vida who spoke, pausing in front of Devereux, wbo instantly rose, offering his

Ce&t.

"Thanks, no," said she. "This is not & good position from which to hear the piano. I want you to play, please." "With the greatest possible pleasure.— What shall I play "You must be very sure of your

reper­

to ask such a question," said Vida, wickedly. "Do you know Schubert's Fantasia in Of" "Do you ask for that, Miss Carolan, seriously, or because you think I do not know it

"Seriously." "Then it is cruel to wake such a demand. when not only you are present, but Herr Lehmann, a professional." "As to me, nonsense. I am sure you play better than I do, and Lehmann, though he is delightful in Liszt and Chopin, cannot play Schubert to my taste, nor, I should imagine, to yours. So no refusal." "A knight can only obey when a lady commands," said Devereux, bowing and he went forward and took his place at the piano.

His execution of the music called forth unanimous and enthusiastic applause lrat Devereux thought only of, cared only for, the approval of one person present. He rose and turned to meet Vida's smile. "Mr. Devereux, I knew you played well, but I had no idea it was so well! What a pity that you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth! You have robled the concert-room." "I am deeply flattered, Miss Carolan, by your good opinion "But you don't believe I think what I say the girl coolly interrupted. "You are mistaken. I don't think I have much of any kind of a conscience but a musical conscience, and that I have. I never flatter anyone in that respect." "Forgive my skepticism, I cannot deny it, and accept my best thanks for your approval."

Then, as they moved across the room, he bent down and added in a low voice: "If I only please you I care nothing for all fhese others." "Ah, now you are taking up the role I repudiated," said Vida lightly, though her heart beat fast. "You know 1 am not. You know I am speaking the truth."

Yes, slie knew it, and shrank from the knowledge. "Truth is not always wisdom," she said shortly, and almost abruptly. Devereux hit his lip and his blue eyes flashed, but he quietly took a place near Herr Lehmann's pretty wife, and no one whd heard bim talking to her would have supposed that his heart was on fire within him. Perhaps he had said, or rather implied, too much, for the words were far less than Villa was accustomed to hear every day of her life but once more he had endowed mere words of compliment with a deeper meaning, and Vida felt it. But the girl puzzled him. She was surely not capable of trifling. She was no ingenue, though so young, and could not bo wholly blind to the fact that she was more to him than a season's beauty. Yet she might imagine that he was trifling. Then, if so, she must not long remain under that impression. He set his teeth with that thought, arul at the moment Vida passed by, so close that her robe almost brushed his feet, and prido whispered with a sneer: "You a Devereux! She—who and what is she?" llis heart gavo back the answer quickly "She is more than all the world to me—my very life!" ile arose presently and contrived to leave the drawing-room unobserved, taking a scat near a window, and the curtain dipping behind him, hid his figure, which was what he wanted he must be alone for a time.

He tried to argue that Vida was, morally, not all that he wouia have wished to see her he was no blind lover, imagining )iis mistress all perfection. Still he loved her! Nothing could alter that.

He hardly noticed that there was a lull in the music, lmt his ear caught the rustle of a woman's dress outside the half-open door, and then a voice that made every pulse bonnd speaking in German. "Thankg. so much, mein Herr please leave me alone for a little—a few minutes. Let the trio go on. I would rather not have any gup left that would make my absence more noticed."

And thus speaking, Vida came Rlowly into the room, leaning on the aim of Herr Lehmann. who placed ber gently in a /oufrutA and then ]au '•Can I bring you a little water—anything T" he asked earnestly. "Nothing, thanks, only solitude I was foolish to be so affected by such an event, but I could not help it." "Fraulein, it shows your sensibility Ami Herr Lehmann bowed and retired.

The soft light of the wax candles fell on Vida's face as she sat it was always i«le just now it was deadly white. Dare Devereux would have gone and knelt at the girl's feet, and pleaded for the right to protect her from all sorrow, shelter her from all storms but she was in her own house, she believed herself alone. He was an unconscious intruder into her suffering: but he could not longer remain witness, ami perhaps eavesdropper.

He rose and stepped out into the light* and Vida started from her reclining posture, with a sudden crimson flush spreading from check to brow. "Mr. Devereux!" she said wonderingly, but not haughtily. "Miss Carolan, for^ive^ me!" He advanced a step, and laid his hand on tbe back of the chair. "I was sitting in the window, and the curtain hid me from view. 1 can only regret that I was an unconscious trespasser." "Please do not apologise," said the girl. "It is I who have intruded on you—not you on me. I could not think of driving YOU away if you wish to be alone. I shall fee quite myself again in a minute" "I hope," sakl Devereux. bending down a litlJe-—what would he uM have given to leud lower yet, k1 touch his lips just oaee to the white t?rowf-—"that nothing' serious has happened to distress you "Nothing that nse pcrronatiyj

but what heard brings back Tom She paused a second, then added more resolutely "Brings back to me a painful event in my own family. Did you notice a paragraph in a morning paper about a man—a young man of good family—having shot himself, and it was said that some love affair was the cause "I remember the paragraph. I did not know the name, and so was not especially struck by it." "Nor was I. Who would trouble their heads about every suicide recorded in the papers? But I have Just been told, by a man who knew this young man intimately, that the story of a love affair was only got up by the relations to cover the real cause. Young Latymer had lost heavily —lost everything at the gaming-table, and being ruined, did as many other cowards have done—blew out his brains. You wonder, perhaps, why I should care about the one cause of suicide more than the other! Simply because a near relation of my own killed himself for tbe same reason only last summer in Vienna, and the story was told me then, in tbe same sudden way, at a music-party. I suppose it jarred my musical nerves," she added, with a tone and manner that seemed almost like levity, but were evidently, to Devereux, assumed to cover deeper feeling. "Such a shock," he said gently, "might well move you, and I khow that in your last words yon wrong yourself." "Do yon? Do you imagine that I have the usual young lady horror of gambing?" i••I trust you have. "No, Mr. Devereux." Vida lifted herself, and for a second looked straight into feer companion's eyes. "Trust is just what you have not. How could you have? But if you have any hope, let me undeceive you. I really do not see any harm in play—even rather high play. Of course you are horrified "No I cannot believe you." "Pooh! Why not? You do not know any reason why I should not be speaking the truth." •'I do not want to believe you," said Devereux, turning aside for a moment.

She laughed souly and said: "Why not believe me? You men want perfection in women, without seeking to acquire it for yourselves, and I have not been brought up as some have. I do nob. allow high play in my house, because it is 'bad form,* as you say in England but where is the sin, where the je ne soai quoi of horror?" "Miss Carolan, you are not—cannot be speaking as you think?" "I ask again, why not How many men of fashion condemn gambling? And those that do are not actuated by the highest motive. Why, are there not hundreds of fashionable women who more or less openly gamble? Have I not seen sober dowagers as well as younger, more thoughtless women playing at these very tables—and at Monte Carlo? But you know the truth of all I am saying as well or better than I do. You have lived longer in the world, and you have not lived among the heathen." "I do not deny the existence of a vice, Miss Carolan," said Devereux, almost coldly. "I only grieve to hear you express sympathy with it." "Sympathy—no," said Vida, shrugging her shoulders "I merely say that I do not condemn it, that I have no horror of it but I do not play. I have no taste for gambling. I am not sufficiently acquisitive to find anything exciting in the chance of winning money." "Is that all Is there no nobler motive "What nobler motive? Gambling is not stealing. Why, Mr. Devereux, you are not surely coming out as a preacher of what our American friends call the higli-falutin!" "1 hope not but I hardly think a condemnation of gambling can rank under that head." "Perhaps not," said Vida, carelessly "yet why so strongfy condemn it? There are people who live by play." "There are people who live by robbery, Miss Carolan." "You put the two on a par!" "They are at the least first cousins, and people who keep salles do jeu are deliberately encouraging a ruinous vice." "How so? The men and women who stake their money are free agents." "All are not a young and inexperienced man is hardly a free agent when he is tempted strongly and led on, little by little, until the vice which of all is the most enthralling has completely mastered him."' "Is he not ready enough to bo tempted?" said Vida, in the samd manner. "Nay," returned Devereux, moving for a moment from his position, "you do but jest." "Oncc more you are mistaken. I am speaking my real thoughts." "I. cannot, will not believe it!" Devereux spoke in a quick, passionate tone then suddenly checked himself, bit his lip, and remained silent, but his band fell back to its old place.

Vida first brokp the painful pause that followed. "I suppose," she said slowly, "it is natural that a man should wish a woman to be better than he is willing to be himself, or than men are, generally speaking, willing to lie but we must all be, to a great extent, the slaves of circumstances, and I have been always what is called Bohemian. It is my misfortune, not my fault, that I cannot come up to the regulation standard of feminine excellence."

Devereux had listened to ber with his head slightly averted. Now he turned suddenly, and bending down, his eyes met hers. Something in her look arrested the words that quivered on his lips he drew back a step. "Vida!"

The blood rushed to the girl's brow she sprang to her feet, trembling like a leaf, but iu a mtinent her face changed she laughed a low, bitter laugh. "Mr. Devereux, we are both forgetting that we shall be missed. I must return to my guests.** -Stay!" Devercux's hand was on her's now he spoke rapidly, passionately. "I must eeo you alone. Oh, forgive ne! Only Jet me see you "No, nor the girl interrupted in a kind ot terror. "To what end? It is useless. You misunderstand. Hash! no more now. I dare not remain keger."

She was terribly agitated—more than what had happened could possibly account for tbe crimson had died from her face, leaving it ghastly pale) her words fell in broken gmsps from livid lips she hardly seemed to Know what. she was saying, and now. as she turned towards tbe door* she staggered and caught at the back of tbe chair on which she had been sitting for support.

In an instant Dare Dever-eox's arm was around the slender form, wra to him, and for a moment Vi half conscious, or powerless to resist the beautiful head sank forward on her lover's breast.

1

trapping it close Via* was only

Was all forgotten—her mother's wrongs —ber own life purpose to avenge those

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAYS-EVENING

wrongs—the injustice she had so scathingly condemned? Surely, if fully conscious, she must have shrank from that close clasp—yet more from tbe kisses be pressed on brow and lips.

Surely it was all a dream to her yet when the power of thought and will returned to iier, when she strove to free herself, it was in pleading rather than anger, as one who feels her own weakness, who knows that she has suffti-ed ber heart to conquer her, and has lost the right to reproach. "Have pity," she whispered, "and release me. You are cruel to yourself—to me!", "To nay self," said Devereux, loosing ns embrace, but still keeping her bands in his. "Not if you love me." «But I she faltered. She could not utter the lie she bent her face down on the hands that held hers. "Spare me," she said in agony, "I cannpt say more now. Give me time come to me in three days and I will see you but now, if you —if you love me, spare me!" "Vida, my darling, forgive me!" He folded ber once more to his breast once more kis.*fil the quivering lips, and then released her.

She stood quite still, pressing ber hands

over her eyes, gathering all her forces of self-control. In two minutes she dropped her bands and turned to him, perfectly calm to all eyes but his. "Come," she said gently, "I am ready now—quite ready."

She placed her hand on his arm, and in silence be led her back to the drawit-g-room.

CDAPTBR XII. •*. 6ICN0R GHIBERTI.

Dare Devereux might well have been pardoned if, during the three days of suspense imposed by Vida Carolan, he had cast aside all thoughts but those which were of necessity paramount. But Devereux did not lose sight of the great purpose which he hail pursued so unflaggingly for many years and his first step —to place beyond doubt the certainty of Mrs. Russell's identity with Hester Ransome—had to be decided upon. He must see Mrs. Russell himself, but how And, as a preliminary, it might help him to discover if it was the sakm in Duke-street that young Latymer was in the habit of frequenting.

Therefore, the very d&f after Vida's toiree, he put in an appearance at Rokeby Dan vers' chambers, and questioned that young man on the subject. Danvers had no certain knowledge. If Latymer went to Duke-street, he did so under another name he (Danvers) had never met there anyone of that name.

As Devereux turned from Danvers' chambers into Piccadilly, he encountered Gifford West who was just quitting a house at the corner of Dover-street. "Hello, Devereux well met!" exclaimed the surgeon heartily. "Jump into my carriage, and we can have a talk on the way, if you can spare the time I haven't seen you for an age." "I oan spare the time, West, and I have something to tell you since I Baw you."

They entered the carriage, and as it drove off Dare asked his friend where he was going. "To Camden-hill," returned West, looking out of the window "Lady Mansfield's." "I saw ber only yesterday she seemed very well." "Ob, it is the daughter, Beatrix she is not very strong, and she has been fagging herself, as the girls always do in the season. Nothing serious." "Glad to bear it, old fellow—for your sake!" said Devereux quietly.

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"For my sake!" repeated West, starting. "What the deuce "Don't excite yourself, West. I can see through a ladder but we will not enlarge on the subject, as you do not seem so disposed to do. Instead, I will give you my news. I believe that I have not only discovered Hester Ransom®, but another clue."

West listened eagerly while his friend related to him his discovery of the gambling talon in Duke-street, and his reasons for supposing Mrs. Russell and Madame Ransome to be one individual, and his comment was emphatic. "I have very little doubt that your surmise is correct the next thing, of course, is to see her. Though she is evidently disguised, I will wager it that you could see through her make-up. But what is the clue "This. Mrs. Russell has a French servant called Fanchette."

Gifford West gave a long significant "Whew!" '•Of course," continued Devereux, "the existence of some such person has been all along a self-evident necessity. I hear, in addition, that the middle-ageu domestic is very vain. Therefore it is a mere matter of time to place me in possession of everything she has to tell." "But, my dear Devereux, how can jrou obtain the entree there? I cannot imagine any disguise that you could assume passing muster at a close inspection. You deucedly handsome, well-mMe men have to pay the penalty of extra good looks whenever the question of an alien comes to the fore.'" "Leave my wits to contrive that r»rt of the bnsiness, West, when tbe time is ripe. I tbink I can manage a make-up that might deceive those who know me best. There is nothing for it but a disguise, and this is rather difficult, for I must not arouse any suspicion in the people who keep the house. Depend upon it, Fanchette keeps pretty well posted in what goes on in Duke-street, and understands a good deal of English, though she pretends, I hear, neither to understand -nor speak it.. However, in my lexicon, as in the bright lexicon of youth,' there is no such word as 'fail,' so this difficulty also will be surmounted." "Doubtless, my dear friend. I have the greatest possible faith in your resources."

Devereux smiled, and glancing from tbe window, observed: "I tbink you bad better drop me here. West. We are not far from Camden-hill. and I do not want to be seen, for they will expect me to come in, and I cannot spare so much time as that." "Very well," said West, pulling tbe check. "Let me see you as soon as you can. Good-bye

The carriage stopped, they 'shook hands, and Devereux sprang out, and hailing a passing hansom, was driven back to Garlton-gardens.

He sent for Ellis at once, and gave htm instructions, in accordance with which that invaluable valet betook binyeif once more to Duke-street, and proceeded to make some inquiries at the house immediately opposite to that in' which Mrs. Ru»ell lodged.

A dressmaker had the bouse. The first floor let, but the *°cond was not. Ellis fo 1 the rent high,'* and departed.

The ikt1 ev^rrnr. wfc*- it was rt*«p dusk, a slL ".: an, *v th thick r- -»s^ tache, wearing spectacles, and spei 1. ng

English with'a'strong foreign" accent, called upon Miss 'Johnson, Court dress-' maker, and enquired about tbe second floor. He was an Italian he gave the name of Ghiberti he had come to London on business, and it was necessary that he should have headquarters in London, but he might be frequently absent froci the metropolis. He would, however, keep the rooms on, even during his absence. He did not demur to the rent, to which Miss Johnson made a liberal addition the moment" that she saw that her proposed lodger was a foi-eigner, and the bargain was concluded at once. Dtu-e Devereux bad gained the needful vantage point, but here he paused. In two days he should see Vida Carolan again, and then Aye, what then? To What had he committed himself?

Alas! how different from anything he had dreamed of would be Vida Carolan's answer to ber lover. Would his love still be proof against the harsh,.test that was so soon to try it?"

Three o'clock! That' was the deep voice of the great bell at Westminster that floated through the still morning air to Vida's ears but she gave no heed to the hour she had lost all count of time she had no power as yet even to think.— In the rich robes and flashing jewels she had worn that night she paced up and down her dressing-i-oom, with fevered cheek and burning eyes, and hands now clasped together, now clenched, now pressed over her heart, now—as for a moment she would pause—lifted above her head, seeking in gesture rather than thought that aid which, alasl she had never learned to look to. "What shall I do? Oh, God! what shall I do?" was the burden of the passionate cry that rang in her tortured heart, but never passed her lips. No use tb try and blind herself now the veil had been rudely torn from her eyes, and lay in fragments at her feet. She loved Dare Devereux, loved_him with all the strength of her passionate nature. Unjust and cruel he was (aye, was he) traitress she was—doubly false but love was stronger than bate—stronger than vengeance—and Vida Carolan was conquered. Only a few hours a^o Dare Devereux held her in his arms, his Ips pressed hers, and in that moment the girl's whole life went out to him she thought no more of vengeance, her mother's wrongs were forgotten. 3he was vanquished by the forces Bhe had ignorantly braved already she had been untrue to her purpose. She had ceased all attempt at self-deception oeased to repeat the pairot words, "I hate him." She loved him, she knew that miserable truth in all its fullness she would have died for him, suffered for him, lived for him. But ah! to live without him— scorned by him—an outcast forever from the love be laid at her feet! How could she have the strength for this sacrifice But if not, what then Deceive him "No man likes to be deceived, least of all by the being he loves best." What a terrible significance there was now in these words! "But love can generally pardon the sin that love prompted." Did he truly mean this? Could he so paudon? "If I tell him the truth he will hate me —worse, he will despise me and if I see hita I shall not have courage to tell the truth. No, he will conquer then, I know. There is a third course open—flight. Then the world will blacken mv name. Better so. He will be saved, ana I should care nothing. What is anything now to me but his love? and that I must put from me." "Would to God," she repeated again and again, "I had never looked on bis face! I was rash—mad! Oh, why must I crush out my very soul? I love him so! I lovehim truly, faithfully. I am not as some one whom he knows# But no woman wK ever love him as I do. He cannot be what my mother believes of him—he is too noble, too generous! There must be something hidden, or he is in error."

In two days more she had promised to see Dare Devereux. If she was to take refuge in flight she must act quickly. What could Devereux think of her abrupt flight? Either that she had fled with some other lover, or that, conscious of her own utter unworthiness, she had feared to meet him face to face, or dared not give herself to him lest truths should come out concerning her past and present career which would inevitably lead to her humiliation. And it was hard, oh, bitterly bard, to say: "Better so—better that he should think me unworthy of his love, unfit to guard his honor!"

To this passionate, undisciplined girl there seemed nothing specially monstrous in the idea of suddenly disappearing without reason or attempt at explanation from the world of which she was the most conspicuous ornament, and once ber strong will had conquered, she was not likely to draw back from her resolve.

How to arrange for Mrs. Hargrave was a question that puzzled her. She shrank from being unjust to her companion, but knew not what to do for her. She dared not write to her, for Devereux might through that means discover her whereabouts. The only course was to leave her sufficient money for immediate needs, and the companion of the famous Miss Carolan was not likely to be long lacking a similar situation.

And meanwhile, with heart and bram on the rack, the day must be gone through like all other days—riding, driving, lunching, talking—the dismal round of fashion's amusements.

Vida had not for a moment forgotten her mother's threat that, if the daughter forgot the duty of revenge, the mother would not but the girl knew that, at present at any rate, Madame Ransome dared not discover herself to Devereux.— To float Vida into society had drained her resources to their utmost she was nov struggling to make money, and would be compelled, even though she for a time thereby delayed her schemes of revenge, to remain perdue, nor could she even venture on an anonymous communication, knowing that it was more than possible Deveteux's suspicions were already ApiraxS uiaqi usjaxl *ouo p»rapjo Jsruf svq j»|sts -qd{0(i pras ,/»[qvuoiqffvj djtnb s)vq aaqvAvs aqi £on[vra s{ aqg,, u'MOU

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to the stove-pipes but do*you remember tbe sensation la belle Bohemientus created when she appeared on the Row in a headgear of her own choosing "Aye but, of course, a beauty may do as she likes. 8he has already given her name to sundry articles of dress. Helen Leicester told my mother—with a toss of ber head—that she was shown at Swan and Edgar's the other day a 'Vida' cape and a'Carolan* jacket. Poor Helen!"

Tollemache laughed. "Yes, it was ban! on her. I don't fancy she exactly adores the beauty. Dare Devereux thinks too much of the Carolan, I fancy, for my Lady Helen to approve." "Do you think Devereux means anything, Tollemache?" said Carysfort. "Anything serious, do you mean? I can't tell, he is so deucedly reserved but Vida Carolan would turn anyone's head." "But Devereux is so proud and no one knows, after all, wbo the girl is." "Well, perhaps it Isn't ring and altar he means," suggested Tollemache.

Carysfort s^ook his head. ••No, no, Dolph. Devereux means marriage, or nothing, Say what anyone may, I don't believe Vida Carolan is really fast, and Devereux is the soul of honor." "Glad you have such faith in manhood," said Dolph composedly. He was twentythree. ,, "My dear fellow, it is almost as great a mistake to believe every man a sinner as to imagine all men saints—as school-girls and maiden-aunts are apt to do. Who is Miss Carolan with now?" "Major Ponsonby. I don't see Devereux to-day." "Somebody told me they met him riding out towards Richmond. By Jove!" said Carysfort, lifting his hat and bowing low, as Vida rode past again, "that girl is divine! No man could possibly think of birth or rank or anything when she came in question." '•Take care!" 6aid Dolph, laughing "don't lose your heart, Carysfort!"

Vida wheeled her horse and came back this time she drew rein, and bending down held out her hand. "How do you do, Sir Harry? Do you find it too hot for riding? Mr. Tollemache, I have just been having a gallop with your sister." "Dulcie doesn't want me, Miss Carolan, when Summers is by," said Dolph, shaking his head. "Sets the wind so?" Vida laughed. "Well, she Will have all the club news first hand, if that is any desiratum. Major Ponsonby, pardon, I must not keep you waiting any longer. Au revoir! she shook her riding-whip in farewell and was soon lost to the gaze oj^^th men amid the crowd of riders.

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revoir!" the very woitft, spoken

lightly, struck her with a shock, when would she look upon these m£n, or any ft those who now surrounded her, again? Would she ever after this evening De a unit in the moving phantasmagoria Was she looking her last on the scene# in which she had reigned more than a queen But all this would matter nothing it was not of the lost triumphs, the departed glories of an empire over the world of fashion that she was thinking ot as she rode iu the mellowed evening light, and talked the talk of the hour, "catching folly as it flies," and smiled and laughed often it was the lost empire over one man's heart the lost love of one noble nature. She would have given up all—all—all else, without a sigh, if by so doing she might stretch out her hands to that one man and sav: "Come to me. I love you. 1 am yours." "You will be at Lady Mansfield's tonight said Major Ponsonby, as he lifted the giri from her horse at her own door: but she shook her head. "No, major I am positively going to have a quiet evening at home. I feel fagged I want some rest." "You look a little fagged," said the major somewhat anxiously "not quite yourself."

She laughed. "I shall be all right in a day or two.— Thanks for your escort. Good-bye."

She went up to her room, and dressed for dinner, and Mrs. Hargrave noticed nothing unusual in her face or manner. Thev were alone to-night, and Vida talked in her brilliant manner, and a far shrewder woman than Mrs. Hargrave would not have dreamed what was in the girl's heart.

After dinner, when they adjourned to the drawing-room, Vida played a little, but presently rose and said, remaining by the piano while she s^oke: "Mrs, me for' have a number of letters to write, and tomorrow will be a very busy day." "My dear, don't consult me. I shall retire early myself, for the hot weather has made me feel languid. It does not agree with me as it does with yon."

ino while she spoke: 8. Hargrave, will you kindly excuse the remainder of the evening? I

Heat always suited Vida, and to-night every pulse was throbbing, burning. She came forward and knelt before Mrs. Hargrave, putting both her hands in those of the gentle lady. "Good-night," she said softly, "yon have been very kind to me—very kind. I shall never forget you. Try to think of me as well as you can—will you "My dear child exclaimed Mrs. Hargrave. who was very matter-of-fact, and though she had speedily made up her mind that Vida was incomprehensible, was altogether amazed by this new mood, "what can make you talk so? Why in the world should I think unkindly of youF "You know," said Vida, evasively, "that they say all sorts of things of me, and I should not like you tobeheve them. "But never mind me," she added with a halfsmile, "I am foolish this evening. I am always wayward. You know that already. Good-night." 8he lifted her beautiful face, and as Mrs. Hargrave kissed her, she noticed that the long lashes were wet with tears. She folded the slight form in her arms, and kissed tbe girl again more fondly than she bad ever done before, and Viaa returned the embrace in silence, but without any loss of self-control.

no power to command or win Vida's sympatny. Affection there mnrht be, hat no real confidence, and the girl rose to her fMtan^nied to the dow without even tbe passing wish to seek any external help in this crisis of her life. "Good-night," she said once more, and the door closed upon her. [TO BB OOSTISCBD.] i-f

MR. AMOS BRADLEY, Rochester, N. Y. says: "ASA sure cure for nervous debility and general decay of the human system, I can consciously recommend Brown's Iron Bitters as a medicine that will give prompt relief. I do this as a duty I owe my Mow-men, being myself restored to perfest health."

Swayne's "Swayuo's "Swayne's •'Swayne's 'swayne's ••swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's •Swayne's

Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment" Ointment'' Ointment'' Ointment"

Since the days ot Hippocrates no remedy has obtained so boundless confidence or conferred on mankind so estimable a blessing as Swayne's Ointment.

•Certainly the best remedy e\er in my practice." G. W. CoIton,M. D. of Vermont.

"Cures" "Cures" "Cures" "Cures" "Cures" "Cures" "Cures" "Cures"

It cUresTottus, Itch, 'Salt Rheum, Scald Head, Barbers Itch, 'Sores, Scaly, Crusty, I Itelis Skin Eruptions and that terrible malady, "Itching Piles."

The symptoms of -which are moisture like perspiration, intense itching—particularly at night after getting warm, whfoti

"Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles" "Itching Piles"

Js as if pin worms -were crawjing in and I about the lectum.

The private parts are -often aflectcd. For this or any skin disease Swayne's Olnt--ment is superior to any article in the the markets

"All" "All" "All"

"I have ''suffered 25 years from Itching Piles,consulted many I physicians nni used "j many remedies kut -found no permanent until I used Swayne's

"Skin Diseawis" "Skin Diseases" "Skin Diseases" "Skin Diseases" "Skin Diseases" "Skin Diseases" "Skin Diseases'* "Skin Diseases"

Ointment." Geo. Simpson, New HaI ven, Ct.

Ask your druggist for it. w.Sdwfy

A CARD.

To all who are suffering .from tlio errors and indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness, early decay, loss of manhood, Ac., I will send a recipe that will cure you, FREE OP CHARGE. This great remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Send a self-addressed envelope to the Rev. Joseph Inm an, Station D. Now York City, n}-6m.

$1500 per year can be easily made at heme working for E. G. Rideout & Co., 10 Barclay Street, New York. Send for their catalogue and full particulars.

ilfWS

NEURALGIA

It has been ascertained that the most Inveterate cases of neuralgia are cured by Fellows' Syrup of Hypophosphltes. Not only is the principal disease eradicated, but the patient is made vlgoroiisnnd strong: the stomach the blood, the skin become healthy, and toe obtained a new lease of enjoyable life.

The only satisfactory treatment of neuralgia is by strengthening the nervous system. A person with strong nerves never suffers from this disease.

The virtues of Fellows' Compound Hyrup of Hypophosphitcs are such that other remedies are seldom required.

The demand for Hypophosphitcs and other Phosphorus preparations nt tlie proHent day, is largely owing to the good effects and success following the introduction of this article in the United States.

IMPORTANT.

Should the invalid have any diflieultv procniing the Compound Hyrup In his viei. ity, let him not ha put oil with any otln remedy, because this article has not its e'itial in the diseases for which it is recommended.

NOTE.—Be suspicious of persons who recommend any other article as "iust as good.'' The highest class medical men in every laruo citv, wnere it Is known, recommend It.

SOLD BY ALL DRUGGIST*.

HAS. LVOIA E. PIHKH1M, OF LVNH, MASS.,

LYDIA E. PINKHAM'9 VSOETASLE compound. IssPoslUreCure far *11 tk«M Cmnv!«I«U aa4 WmIobmh hmwhi ftmlt

It will cura entirely tb« wont form of Fraud* Con ptalat*, 11 ovtrfen troublM, Inflammation and Uleer Mob, railing aad DifpUcemenU, and tbe conatqu' Spinal Weakn«M, and 1* particular!/ adapted to Cliftsg* of IJ/«.

It will tfImoIt* sad trpel tamon from tb« ctern* aarly tttft of diTtlopiufBt, Tbe tendency to c* ceroua bsmoratbero to checked ireryipeedUr by ltt

It remove* Mstneee, flatulency, deetroynall cravl for •tlmalantc. asd rellereeweakneaa of tlie etonac it care* Bloating, tleadaebee, Kerr cm* Troetratle Oeneral DeUOlty, Decplewsew, Depreedon and Vat

That feaUac of baaing down, eatutaff peIn, well and baekacb*, la alwaya pennaaeatiy cured by It* It will at all ttoe* asd under all elrevmaUsce* act wit* tb* law* tbat govern tbe female *yiU for tbe eur* of Kidney Complaint* *f *tUi*r aes I)

VEGETABLE CO.'

ff0)IVi* pnpand at *0 and W Weetera Aveff Lyaa,Ka«. Pricefl- Mxbottlaefor*. Bentbyt la tb* form of pflle, ale* intbe form oflosencea, receipt ef prtee, P**lx,x

for

eHhee. Mr». Plakb.

fraalyaaewen all letter* of InqobT. *end for pam let. Addreai a* above. UenUoti thfa fttptr Xo family »boold ba without LYDIA E. hltklU' IXTBL PTIX3. Tbey rare ccwrtipfttloti, bl&osstt torpidity of the liver. cent* per box. tor Bold t'T *11 Ir«8gi*ta.

IUCRATIVE, EMPLOYEE®

for the winter in farrdins ci^n' '.arc retrr:.* for cotapanMirely iiuio lalf For fx.'.. T«ttlcu}ftrsaddjasjaedia HloKiMii 4CDD CO. Z51 limatwafi «-r\ Elegant GennlneChromo Cards no t)U alike, with name 10c.SNOW & CO. ldeu, Conn. dlO-Str