Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 50, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 9 June 1883 — Page 3

THE MAIL

^'*7 -V'-i

PAPER FOR THE PE6PLE.

MASKS AND FjuCES.

The stage was bright, the plaudits rang, Theplaj With hfti

lay was nearly o'er appy voice the player sang

"Love 1* forever more!" "She never sang or looked ao fair!" Tbe people whispered low But the real tale of the woman there

Nobody cares to know. V,y The circus crowd wan gay and glad, And load the whirling ring Huzza! the rider rode like mad,

As Jocund a* a king. Huzxa! to watch him laugh and leap, They cheered him high and low But the team that lay in his bottom deep

Nobody cares to know. And we are all plarer for our clay, On the stage of life we fare. Each with bis little part to play,

Each with his mask to wear. And what is real, 'tis vain to ask, And what is only sltow. For what lies bidden behind the mask

Only ourwlve* may know.

A Link in the Chain.

Mists Malvina Parkhurst sat besidetbe ltltcbeu window of the old farm bouse in Eaat Campton, reading a letter—an absorbing one, judging from berappearance—and this was wbxt she read "Keep watch on Miasd'Arlage while •lie remains uudei your roof. She deceive* you. fthe goes to Eaat Hampton (or a purpose you do not dream of. Do not /latter yourself that abe is so fond of her relatives as to make such exile agreeable. You know little of her past life, but look well into her future. You •re held responsible by one to whom her welfare is as dear aa it is to you."

There was no aignature and no clew to the writer. The envelope bore the New York post-mark. It was that baffling, tormenting thing, an anonymous letter.

Miia Parkhurat was sitting in tbe same place and in precisely tbe same attitude, when, half un hour later, Effied'iArlage came into the kitchen. "You look worried, Aunt Malvina.— Don't. 'Tisn't natural and 'tlsn't becoming. Tell me what the letter's about —or perhaps it's a secret," she added, with a little hesitation. "Have you any secrets. Effle Miss Park hurst asked, pointedly.

The quick blood rushed in a torrent over the young girl's face. She struck her hands together, while a frigbtoued look shot into her great eyes. "It is true, tben

Miss Parkbursffe face fell as she spoke tbe words reproachfully. She unfolded the letter with a sudden decision to show It to her niece.

There was a quick step on the piazza outside, aud a tali figure darkened the doorway. Miss Parkburst thrust the letter into her pocket as she rose to receive tbe newcomer. '•Why, Bert Blodgett! I'm glad to see you Come in, come in. My niece, Miss d'Arlaare— Mr. Blodgett. You've put up your uum, I suppose ,»

The young 1.1 »n nodded rather abtractedly. He wa» surprised by the dassling vision which confronted him in the dingy old farmhouse—a beautiful young woman standing straight and .still lust inside tbe kitchen door. "Pliny's down in the eaat meadow this afternoon, Bert. Have you seen him "Not yet." "He's decided to let you take all tbe newspapers that are stored in the corn barn, ft has got to be torn down before long.'' "Well, I shall be glad to get them. I've been two years, you know, trying to jive them up. There now, coming across tbe lots/' the man continued, with a glance

Krsuade

him to give them up.

Is now. coming across tbe lot

youn„ through thoopen door. "And supper's all ready, If my biscuits are done," Miss Parkburst remarked, making a hasty trip to the oven. I She fully understood, and partly svmI pathlxod with the gloom upon her broP, ther'n brow as be sat that night at the tea table. "Your uncle Pliny would rather serve outs term In the county jail than part with those old Tribunes.'* she said, as the two men left tbe kitchen after supper.—^"I really feel queer about it myself. They have been accumulating so many years—ever since 1 was a young girl, In fact—tnal it seems as if this disposal of them makes an era In tbe family history." "And who Is Mr. Blodgett, Aunt Malvina? He's a wonderfully handsome fellow, at any rste." "And one of the best, too, on tbe lace of the earth. A tln-peddler, Effle. One of my men-folk*, I cull him. I'm as food of hi tn—well, as fond as a woman of tav years ought to be.' and she gave a merrv little laugh. "He arranges bis tripe'so as to stay here over ulght as often as he can. Pliny and I like to have htm. and he mini to take solid comfort with us some way." "I'm going out to the barn to see them,

Aunt ftlalvlua." Tim young girl caught up her bat, never verv far off, as she announced her determination. Her aunt's question, fortuuately Interrupted by Bert Blodgett'a arrival, had alarmed her. She bad no desire tor a renewal of tbe subject *he would give her no opportunity tor It.

Pliny Parkburst, sitting on an empty barrel, looked silently and disco neolate,v upon tbe vigorous labors of young filodgett, wbo was throwing down from a loft overhead piles of old,yellow new*paper*.

Miss—Malvina—Parkburst," The young man had paused an insUnt in his work—long enough to pick up a letter which had fallen out from among tbe papers, and read the eddies*. He turned it over in bis Land. "Never been opened 1" be added.— "That's queer! Looks fifty years old, too/1

He swung himself down from tbe loft and passed the letter to Mice d'Arlage, who Instinctively held out ber band lor it. It was different from modern letters a large sheet folded and secured with sealing-wax, and Bert Blodgett bed not exaggerated concerning its appearance of age. It was addressed in-a l*rg«, handsome hand, but tbe ink had so faded as to be scarcely legible. KfHe d'Arlage carried it Into the house with more eagerneas than she had lately manifested In anything. "Another letter for you. Aunt Malvina," die celled ont as she entered tbe kitchen "one with a strong flavor of antiquity even in Its seal. SemperJkteh*. Fidelity Is oat of fashion now-e-days, they say, but 1 don't believe It, I wonder if this one proved true "Where V* sbe began, with white lips, a strange pallor creeping over ber face.

Her niece anticipated the question. "Mr. Blodgett Ju*t found i^out in the corn-barn, snong the old papers. It's been there yean and years, 1 suppose.— lsn*t It queer Bot why don't

dont you

open It, Aunt Malvina Miss Parkhurst seemed like one •tunned. She passed her hand slowly

over ber eyee, and with one or two inarticulate words crossed the kitchen to

it's not more trouble !rt she thought, witb a little gasp. "I'm so tired of mis-

ei^be

went out again to tbe piazza, and, throwing herself listlessly into ber favorite beat—an immense rocking-chair— tried to amuse herself with a novel which sbe had left lviug there hours before. But twilight "was fast dying into darkness.—Sbe was forced to close the book, and she fell into a reverie concerning many things, includipg, at last, the young man who looked more like a ftrince than a peddler, tbe old letter aud te mysterious effect npon ber aunt, as well as ber aunt's mysterious question.

It was late when tbe two men returned from tbe corn-barn. Pliny Parkburst nMMtl on into tbe bouse, and bis companion was about to follow bim, when a movement on tbe part of Miss d'Arlage checked bis steps. She pushed toward bim with an unmistakable air of invitation a smaller rocker standing near ber own.

Within the last half hour she had grown most desperately lonesome. 8he must do something to keep herself from the tempest of tears which inevitably followed such a mood.

The young man seemed to hesitate for half a minute, as if trying to make sure that be had not misunderstood ber intention then, with a courteous "Thank you!" took tbe neat indicated. "My Uncle Pliny," sbe began, by way of opening a conversation, "seemB positively unhappy over this little business transaction.'' "Yes I'm sorry. He wonld have done better bad he disposed of all that rubbish before the mice made such havoc with it. Paper stock was worth a good deal in the market a year ago, but he's always had a peculiar attachment to old books and papers. Was Miss Parkhurst surprised Dy her letters "Yes, indeed, and more than surprised. She seemed greatly distressed went right to her own room, and has not left it since. I'm afraid it will prove a dull evening for you, Mr. Blodgett." "You are kind enoqgh to prevent that, Miss d'Arlage"—and be bowed courteously. "My visit this time seems to have produced most unfortunate results."

They talked together for more than an hour before it occurred to Miss Arlage that sbe had found tbe evening which she so dreaded a really enjoyable one.

Tbe young she more than once laughed heartily over his narration of unique experiences among the primitive inhabitants of East Campton and neighboring towns.

man was a fine talker, and

Tbe full moon uad risen while they talked, and the scene' about them was transfigured. The stillness was intense. Pliny Parkhurst bad fallen asleep on the kitchen lounge. His sister was still in ber own room. As the tall, old-fashion-ed clock struck nine, Miss d'Arlage rose, "I will speak to Aunt Malvina," she said.

Bert Blodgett rose also divining her intention. "By no means, Miss d'Arlage. Iam going for a walk for half an hour or so. It is too per root a night to spend indoors. Good eveniug!"

The

young lady went into the house somewhat reluctantly.

was as still as

agrave. Sbe passed through tbe kitchen and across tbe hall

ber own room be

yond. Exchanging ber dress for a loose white wrapper, and removing the pins from ber abundant Jbair, she shook ft over ber shoulders, and, brush in hand, crossed the room to look out of the window.

She had already forgotten Bert Blod?ett. Her thoughts were miles away rem East Campton and every one the town contained. As sbe stood gazing upon the mountains, glorified in the moonlight, she saw two men emerge from tbe shadow of the old corn-barn across the road. One of them seemed talking in an excited manner, judging from his violent gestures/

The other, wbo bad no sign and apparently apoke no word, was the young peddler, sne felt sure. There was no mistaking his fine figure aud majestic height. They were walking slowly. In another minute they had passed into shadow agaiu and out or sight.

Miss d'Arlage felt her heart beat fast as she watched tbe little pantomime, and sbe was seized with an unaccountable terror. Before sbe bad time even to speculate on what she bad seen, there was an uncertain, staggering step on the piazza. She rushed into the kitchen.

and calling upon her unole Pliny as she went, flung tbe door^wideropen. ag

Bert Blodgett confron hastly in the moonlight, which struck

her, his face

ull upon it, and stained with blood flowing from a gash in his forehead. "Hush he said, holding up his band. "It'a only—fell—and—"

With a gasp he threw out his arms and sank down at her feet, his blood staining ber while drees.

Miss Parkhurst and ber brother, both roused by their niece's distressing cry, stood close beside ber.

He bad fallen somehow and hurt his head," she explained, though even as sbe spoke she felt sure that it was not so.

She but repeated his statement. It was no affkir of hers. Sbe would respect bis desire for concealment.

Plinky Parkhurst, with his sister's help, lifted tbe yonng man and laid him on the lounge. "Dr. Edison was called over the mountain to-night," be said hurriedly. "He has not had time to get back. What bad he better do?"

The lips of the young man moved slightly. Miss Parkhurat put her face close to his, and caught two or three words. "There's a doctor at the Bromleigh House," she Mid to ber brother, with an air of relief. "Bert came down from there this afternoon." "Pliny Parkhurst started off at once. It was the work of only a few minutes to harness one of the horses, and the road to the new hotel was not along one. "There's a doctor ben I'm told/' the old former said to the clerk, as he approach tbe office. "If so, I want him, and as Quick as possible."

The pnyaidan was summoned. Pliny Parkhsrst had not caught his name in the Indistinct utterance of the clerk. "Time's a yonng man at my bouse, badly hurt. Can yon

The words died on his lips. He took a step backward, gules at the doctor with dilated eyes. Evidently the two men recognised each other, and in no pleasant fashion. "I'd rather die like a dog, mywelf," Pllny Parkhurst said, at kit, as If the words drew blood from his heart, "than to have yon set foot over my threshold, Dave Bfancbard 1 But I can*t risk his life for my notion. TwouWnl be right. She wouldn't think so, neither." He turned areond to lend the way out. "TO be obliged to you if you'll come,* be aaid, shortly. I

There was no word spoken between tbe two men as they drove rapidly to the Parkhurat homestead, at the door of which PUnky Parkburst jumped out of the old bugjrr with the one "Wait!" andwent Into the boose.

...

rsyllable.

-,4

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

gitttog beside the in-

Mlss d'JKlage had just

Miwi Parkhurst pave a great start, then grew perfectly quiet. "It's all right, Pliny. He was right, too. There was a great blunder. I've just found it out, and was going ta tell you as soon as I could."

She made a little gesture to indicate tbathe was to be admitted. Butshedid not even look at the doctor's face as, with one keen glance at hers, he examined his patient and dressed the wound in hisnead. •. ,f. "Shall I come to-morrow

He spoke directly to Miss Parkhurst. She looked up at him, having grown calm enough to trust herself. "Please attend to him as long as he needs you," she answered. And some-time—to-morrow—I have something to say to yoy myself/'

The doctors second call was an early one. He found his patient doing well. The wound was not a serious one. He bad been faint from loss of blood. In a few days, according to indications, he would be about again.

Dr. Blanchard followed Miss Parkhurst into tbe little parlor. "You have something to say tome, Malvina "Yes. The your man who was hurt last night," she began very calmly, "found, in the most accidental way possible, an old letter of yours—unopened one I bad never seen, it was the last one you wrote to me. Possibly you may rem ft ber it, though it was written twenty-six years ago." "Remember it!" tbe doctor repeated, far less calmly than Miss Parkhurst bad spoken "Life is not long enough to forget some things. Malvina. And so you understand—at last! Cau you wonder that after that letter—bearing nothing from you—I could not writeagain?" "No, I cannot wonder," she said, simply. "I knew last night, wben I met your brother, that there had been some fatal misunderstanding," the doctor went on "but having waited all these years, 1 could still wait till—to-day. No, not waited," he corrected "I married—after a year of intolerable suspense, anger and resentment and my wife lived long enough to learn how cruelly I had wronged ber—bow little I had ever loved her. My son, Arthur, has beftn my sole ifon. We have spent (tost of the

companion. years abroad. I came to Easl Campton only two days ago, to leain something of you—of what your life had been. Ana I honestly believed that whatever it might have been, it could not possibly have held such misery as mine."

East

Miss Parkhurst made no reply. There was none needed. A duller man than David Blanchard would have understood the whole story. ,»"s* f-*

Miss d'Arlage rose late that' morning, and failing to find her aunt where she was usually busy at that hour, entered the parlor in quest of her.

She started back at the sight of a gentleman then sprang forward with an exclamation. "Dr. Blanchard! oh, Dr. Blanchard "Effle, uiy child, you here?

Miss Parkhurst looked from one to the other in speechless surprise. "Anu you know my Aunt Malvina "I knew bor, and "loved lier, Effle, years before you were born. If a letter of mine—tbe one found yesterday in tbe old corn-barn—bad ever reached her it would have made a difference in both our lives. Effle d'Arlage, tben, is the daughter of your sister Susan?"

Miss Parkhurst nodded. 1 he situation was not intelligible to ber. "Arthur is with me, Effle, at the Bromleigh House," the doctor resumed, in a significant tone.

Miss d'Arlage grew very pale. Her eyes fell. "He is distressed beyond measure at your silence and

She made a little gesture to check his words "It is my mother's wish," she said. "And yours, Effle?" "It is mine because it is hers," she answered proudly. ilanchard ParkhursU

Dr. Bl turned again to Miss "Your niece is as dear to my son Arthur as we—were—in the old days. They met abroad a year ago. Mrs. d'Arlage suddenly left Paris, and I'find ber daughter here. I have never seen your sister since "Oh, Aunt Malvlni!" Effle interruptedr"I was on no account to tellyotc/ Now I see! I uunderstand!"

Her face grew radiant. She turned towards the doctor, in whose countenance she saw tbe reflection of ber own thought. "Ob, Effle. it must be—it is—because be is my son I know I am right, because, it could be nothing else! And, Malvina, if your sister has felt through all these years as much bitterness towards me as Pliny

Miss Parkburst checked him with an expressive motion. How much reason they bad for that bitterness she alone knew. Tbey only had known what sbe bad Buffered. "And my mother will be here to-mor-row!" Effle announced, triumphantly. "I can see Arthur again, when—you have seen her!"

Later that day sbe sat for a few minutes beside young Blodgett, "Tbe doctors report la moat favorable," sbe began. "If It were not for your ghostly color and that suggestiveplaster— "Ob, I am all right!' he exclaimed, with some show of impatience. "Excuse me, Miss d'Arlage, oat I want you to know the truth of this matter while I can speak with you alone." "I do know it!" she replied, hastily. "1 saw you both last night."

He looked at ber in amassment. "Saw us!" he repeated. "Who, then, was tbe man who struck me?"

Miss d'Arlage's astonishment seemed to equal bis own. "He was a foreigner, apparently, and he accused me- be seemed to believe that you—that I was your lover, Miss d'Arlage. I am telling you the truth tbis time. It was only for your sake 1 did not tell it before. He had watched us all the evening, be said. He was wild with passion. I am not sure that be was not a madman. I thought at first that be was. Sorely you must know him, Miss d'Arlage."

She bent her head slowly. It Laninsgs— wbo was with me at school two years ago. Tbe only regret of my life, Mr. Blodgett, tbe only wicked thing I ever deliberately did, was to encourage his attention to me—for 1 neve* eared for him, and he has alwavs known it. He Is furkmaly jealous. *He pursues and persecutes me. But I bellevea that I warn free from him at last and Here!" "That acwuuta, then, for

Yes, I knew him

Pedro Larrinaga, a Spaniard

He looked at her question!ngly. "Not wholly." she replied, with evident reluctance, "It is only right thai I aboekl tell yon that—yon see—11

took

left

His sister was jnred man. the kitchen to change her dress. "You're a good woman, Malvina—a brave woman/' ber brother said, as he laid his hand tenderly on her bf*»HL "But that doctor up to the hotel—* Dave Blanchard, Malvina—and heehaw come into tbis house to save anybody 'a life unless you say so."

The blood which had swept over her face as sbe made her first explanation burnt more hotly in her cheeks.

Bert Blodgett watched ber with his heart in his eyes. Already he would have been willing to lay down his life in her service, and already there was "some «.ne else."

There was no reason why Miss d'Arlage should not confide this episode to ber sunt, and she hastened to do so.

pocket.

out the anonymous letter. "I should have shown this to you yesterday if we had not been interrupted." reao it d'Arlage read it through—too for immediate words. ro wrote it," sbesaid at last, after a second reading. "He followed me across tbe ocean, as he has followed me here. 'He has seen Arthur—at a distance. He somehow learned of my mother's desire that I should give him up. Evidently he supposed that it was Arthur who was with me last night— that I bad come to East Campton to meet him—and deceive my mother. That would be perfectly characteristic of Pedro Larrinaga!"

Sbe threw the letter indignantly upon tbe table. Miss Parkburst quietly picked it up and laid it on the kitchen fire. "If yon had shown me this sooner— yesterday," Miss d'Arlage resumed, "I should have been on my guard. It might have prevented—but, then, if the accident had not happened—I mean had not brought Dr. Blanchard here?" So looked inquiringly at her aunt. "He would never have known," Miss Parkhurst said, with a slow shake of the head. "I supposed be bad forgotten me yearsago." "And Arthur and I—r"

Miss d'Arlage stopped suddenly and drew along breath, as she contemplated a very evident probability. "Ob, Aunt Malvania, for once Pedro Larrinaga has rendered me—both of us— a service. I forgive him everything, even tbe letter—and I am so sorry for Mr. Blodgett.

It was porhaps a lame and impotent conclusion, but none the less expressive and sincere

"There's been qnite a stir down at the village to-day," Pliny Parkhurst remarked that night at the tea-table. '-A man—a foreigner—a stranger in town— half-drunk—got into a quarrel with James—tbe depot-master, and knocked him dowu—quite an excitement for East Campton. He's locked up now, wbere'll he'll have a chance to sober down." "And tben what will be done with him, Uncle Pliny?" "Oh, he'll be put on the train and sent off, with orders never to show himself here again. James wasn't hurt a bit, but he was pretty mad.

A week from that day Bert Blodgett drove away from the Parkhurst farmhouse. Mrs. d'Arlage, who bad arrived in East Coinpton in due time, bade nim good by, with the remark: "Remember that you will always be just as welcome at the old Parkburst place as if Malvina were at home. Sbe will go abroad with Dr. Blanchard as soon aa they are married, and I shall stay here to keev bouse for Pliny."

As he drove slowly down the road be saw in afield at a little distance two figures, which, walking close together, were outlined against the sky—that of Arthur Blanchard and Effle d'Arlage. "So our lives separated," he thought, a little sadly, and with a strong, strange yearnlna in bis neart as be watched them. yVIt is better so—for me. Heaven bless hFJr! And I shall always be tbsnkful for the sccident that brought back such happiness to Effle d'Arlage.

/+.U0H MY BACK!"

Out of fifty persods wbo are forced by pain to use this ejaculation, on an average forty-nine misapprehend the cause of their trouble. They lay it to a strain, a cold, an excess, a touch of lumbago or rheumatism, or something of the sort. All wrong. Such attacks mean that the kidneys are out of order. Perhaps tbey au Bright's Disease. Reader, you cannot cure your lame back too soon. Take Hunt's Remedy, the great kidney and liver medicine. It is a sovereign medicine and cures all kidney, bladder, liver, and urinary eamplaints magically. .-

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—...National

Walsh A Hmlth ,...«61 Main Aloneo freelaod ...Oor. 4th and Lafayette 0t Mra. Elisabeth McCutcheon. 1184 E. Poplar at

V. .Oole— W 8mitb H.8. tneheart A.C.l Mee. John '.Hanna J. K. Lei *do» T.M. Robertson A Co~.. FOder M. Marls Joseph Somes Chss. Lee Charles May M. Con noway Wm. Hnnt Andrew B. Cooper ........... A. N. Wo kman—.."l.~ W a Frank A. Gwin

....^.Paris, Ills ....MajntfialT, 1H» ^Sullivan Ind .....Clinton, la*'

^...Rockvllle, Ind wnMjlaitooB,ilk, Qreeccastls, Xnd _..Brarfl, Ind* .^....^AnnapoUs lad

KnigbtsvUlelnd

.......Charleston, 1U#«^aodford, lad Eugene, Ind .JtoDtMonft, Indv

Mtrom. Ind

^Scotland, 111* Kansas, Ills ^Carlisle, lad

„. C. Wilson Casey, Ills Charley Hutchinson Dana, Ind John Laverty ..—^^.........Cory.lnd John W. Mlnnick— .~~JSew Goshen. I ad Elmer Hitch Ferreli, Ills James BoswetL..~~.~ —Bloomingdale, Ind Jos. A. Wright -OaOln, lad Oiant Stiles —.jJtoblnscjp.Il^ H. A. Pratt Wareland, Ind W Bucber •—BnssSsle, Ind ,_Perryrr*ll]e,lua j. W. Borer _V«Tnillion, Ills Prank Bond_„ ^^«^_X)akUmn. Ind Johnnie Delaahmatt JBbelburne, 1*4 T. Jones ,...,Prairleton, Ind Wm. J. Pnree~ —Bridpstoe, lad Robert Bobannon~M.~.Bowllnc Green, Krnest Owen— J. H. Ramsay Wm Nlebele..~«~. iohn A. Clark 1. H. Bryan. Harvey Stab O.A.Bi ehanan. iL Mellroy.. B. C. irtcketson.JoeT. (feCoskey^ Henry Jackson-.. Oven Kiasner. K.Davia_.

HC Jackmaa. Mrs, Kate

TO MAI.

O DnvoS—— Wa Bennett Loots Galnev— ft Smith, P. aD Falls Harvey Adam OtUefievete— John Strong.

.BowUiyT Treen. tea ^.^IlWestfield, Il» .Martinsville,!!*

Denntsoo, lUr

^.^~.Iivlngrton.IIls eatervlile. Ind /Ariaasaa. lOr .Juason, Ind .Jfaxvllle, lad ^SeeiorvllJ^lad

Yoosicstown,

'ooxuestown, in ^.York, Ills Fairbanks, Jotf

Bla^lnd

—Darlington,lad

eCtint*ek_~,~—Hunter*. Ind

Hunter*-..—

OK Morrison .WortJ Uavld Middlemos. Palmer Howard—.— John Ira Long Fred Carpenter.

Pa*i"»« l°d

.-^.-Plmente, Ind ^jUoomfleid.lnd ,, Jl^everland, Ind -.

HatsonvlUe, Hie i, me .Newman. .Harmony, InA

To the Ladies and Children of -.-Ai* Terre Haote. Office aud Residence—S&i south SevtdDllfr 8treet.

Office hours from 1 to S p. m.

R. W. C. EICHELBfeRGER,

Ocnltat and Aurlat.

Room 13, Savings Bank Building. Torre Haute, Iud. Office hours,

9—12 a. m. 2— 5 p. in.

J. RICHARDSON.

K. W. VAX VALiAH

RICHARDSON VA» VALZAB

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