Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 7, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 August 1883 — Page 6

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

THE FADED VIOLET.

Yon gave it to me long years ago In the shadowy evening-time, Wlille tbe clonids stole around the mountaln-

And the belte rang out a chime. The blosKoms listenTd at oor feet, The

Trees

stoop'd from above 41!

Yoa said: "Thi* flower will say for me All that my heart says—'Love.'" Tia long ago but I have yet

That Utile faded violet.

And life was at its blithest then Tbe world ne'er seemed so bright, For the sweetest story ever toid p*.

I listened to tbat nigh

And often, often, when alone I've kissed my vio et blue, And said, "E'en as I keep my flower 8o will my love be true."

All, met I have it hidden yet, That little faded violet. ,»vrr-"

We parted, long months ago, With not a sign to tell That once In far-off happy days.

We two had loved #o well. We parted with a few cold wordsWe two who oft have said Wot all the world shou come between-

Ah, well the love was dead— The love was dead hat y?t, but yet, I kept my faded vol et.

Her Mother's Sin

BY THE AtXTHOR OP

"Dora Thome," "Lady Darner's Secret," "The (Shadow. a sin," "love for a Day,"etc.

CHAPTER X.

"i SHALL KBRPM* PLEDQB UNTIL I DIE." leaned out of the window^/1 smelt the white clover

Dark, dark

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the garden. I saw not tbe

Now j^Mhere be footsteps, b^omes, my one

Hiwhyiiightlngale, hush! O sweet nightingale, wait, Till 1 listen and hear

If a step drawoth near, F» my love he is late!

"The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and A cluster of stars hangs like fruit In the tree The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer—

To what art thou llst'ning, and what dost thou see Let the star-clusters glow.

Let the sweet wateis now, And crosw quickly to me.

Irene sang tbe words over rfba over again as she stood in the moonlight. Sir William ana Lady Darleig i, under cover of reading the newspapers alter, dinner, had retired to the drawing-room, and were enjoying a,comfortable DaiL They were sure the young people couia amuse each ether—and tbe youngs people were certainly not disinclined to agree with them.

They had fallen desperately in love -with each other and prudence had been cast to the winds. That he was poor and that she was even poorer mattered nothing that neither or them had anv prospects, that both were without influence, troubled them a little they loved each other. ,,

Arran had gone out with his cigar, and Irene had walked to tbe terrace to wait there for hims a faint breeze was stirring tbe leaves in the distance was tbe gleam of tbe river. Over and over again she sang the sweet words. She knew ibe way by which he would come to her—by the bank of the river and round by tbe chestnuts. ....

That night in the pale moonlight Arran told her that he loved her, and asked her to be hia wife. Her heart throbbed with ecstacy. Love is but a passing fancy with Bome people it was avital matter to her and from that moment until death Arran and she were never parted in heart or iu spirit.

They deliberated earnestly whether they ought to tell Sir William and Lady Darleigh of their engagement before ft was made known to Lady Ryeford. Irene said "No," and Arran was of her opinion. It would be better, he said, for him to go direct to Lady Ryeford and ask her consent.

After that the weefes passed as in a happy dream, till Lady Ryeford returned from Paris and sent Henrietta, her maid, to bring Irene home. The pain of parting seemed bitter as death but Arran said he should not remain long at Froude Abbey, and when be returned to London, he felt sure 'that he should win Lady Ryeford consent to their engagement. He should not always be a briefless barrister he hud been industrious all his life, and he would work as no man had ev6r worked to make his way in the world. So, although the parting as bitter, it ts not hopeless they would soon meet again,

Irene went home, and, keen a» Lady Jtveford was, she did not notice ths alteration In her—how tbe girl bad passed from childhood to womanhood.

As a matter of course, Arran called when she had been at home a few days. "Arran Darleigh?" she said, as she took the card from the footman. "I do not know him. Is he a nephew of Sir William Darleigh? I have never met

"Dear mamma,"said Irene gently, "I know him very well. I have not bad tiaie to tell you all about my visit yet: but Mr. Arran Darleigh was at Froude Abbey some p*rt of the time. He is a barrister, and very clever."

Ladv Ryeford, looking at her daughter's face, saw a bright flush on it, and a suspicion entered her mind. "I ought to have been told of this at the time," she said. "However we must not keep Mr. Darleigh waiting. Show him in."

The foot in.\o did as be was bidden, and a moment later Mr. Arran Darleigh entered the pretty drawing-room.

Irene and be bad parted with kisses and tear*, with tender words, with pledgee of fidelity that was to be eternal. They met again in silence and constraint, yet with delight too great for

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Rveford bv this time felt confi

dent as to whst bad happened. This briefless young barrister and her foolish, unworldly daughter had fallen in love. They must "falT out again" qoickly as possible, she meu tally decided and certainly it was the last time that Mr. Arran iWleigh ahould enter her house. 8he received him civilly, if not courteously, talking to him pleasantly enough about Sir William and Lady Darleigh, about Froude Abbey and the neighborhood. .. "I did not know you were there," she said, with a cold smile. "Irene did not tell me." "I did not write often, mamma," put in tbe girl, with tell-tale blush—"not so often as I should have done."

Not one moment did Lady Ryeford leave the unhappy lovers together. They bad no chance of saying a word to each other.

ing Lady Ryeford of the engagement. He asked to speak to her alone, and. she led him coldly enough to Sir Alton's study. She enjoyed his discomfort. She would not ask him to sit down, but stood erect, with her most dignified air. "What have you to say to me, Mr. Darleigh?' she asked, freeringly. "I have no wish to hurry you, but my time is precious."

It was bah) to open his heart in reply to such eold words, but honestly and eloquently be told her of his love, his ambition, bis plans in life. Lady Ryeford laughed him to scorn. His plans were not to be thought of for a single moment, and tbe sooner he gave up every idea of them tbe better lor himself. Sbeiutended her daughter to makes very dlflereut kind of marriage.

Stuug by her prideand her disdain, he hinted that it was just possible Miss Ryeford might like to cboose for herself. That was tbe most fatal speech be could have made. Lady Ryeford grew more indignant, declaring that Sii William and Lady Darleigh bad been guilty of a gross breach of trust, aud tbat. be himself bad played a dishonorable part.

They, were hard worda for oiie so proud as Arrau to brook but he could bear uiucb for Irene's sa*e. He tried to appease Lady Ryeford, to reason with .her pointing out how many men with even fewer opportunities than he had bad risen to tbe highest rank. But she locked contemptuous, and Simply replied that she refused to bear another word upon the matter. Neither entreaties nor prayers moved her.

You will break Irene's heart!'" cried the lpver,plino8t beside himself when he thought Of what she must suffer. "Better that than to see her in poverty, her life wasted iu struggles and dela-

', criel, £adyiRyford," he said bitterly. "I did not think it was in the heart of any woman to be so utter.y pitiless." ,, "The day wilt »me wHen'you will see things differeutly, Mr. Darleigh. I know that what/ I am doing is kindest aud beet," she returned— "best for her* and best for you."

We shall never think-so,* Lady Ryeford. You have refused your wysent to what would have been a happy marriage. I will never ask her to disobey you, but I shall never love nof'tuarry any other woman I shall remaiu true to ber as long as 1 live." '•Of course you can please yourself about tbat,' said Lady Ryeford "but you must not write her nor attempt to see her."

And tben, she thought to herself, the whole affair will come to nothing, But in thatshe was mistaken.

Arran asked but one favor—that he might see Irene aud tell her the result of the iuterview. "That.would indeed be foolish," said Lady Ryeford. "If you $4Wteach other, all would be undone. I will tell my daughter myself what my decision is, aud she shall write to you."

This was final, aud he left the house a sorely disappointed mail, longing in vain for a glimpse of his love.

Lady Ryeford summoned Irene to ber room. When she appeared, Henrietta was dismissed, and then the mother tygan ber task. "Sit down, ruv dear." she said ™I have a great deaf to say to you. 1 will not reproach you, Irene but you should not have kept this matter from me. "Do you mean with regard to Arran Darleigb, mamma? "Yes. You ought to have written to me to say that he was at Froude Abbey." "You must believe, mamma, tbat I never had the faintest thought of concealing our acquaintance. 1 did not tell you of it at first, because I did not think tbe matter would interest y6u. Believe, also, mamma, that when we found we liked each other, we agreed to tell you at once but we were coming back to town, and it seemed so much easier to speaK than to write." "Well, you must understand bne thing," said Lady Ryeford "I would sooner see you dead than contract such a marriage as thst."

The girl's face grew white and cold. "Mamma," she said, "surely you would not be unkind to me about this? I—I have not been very happy, although you have done your best to make me so. Do not ruin my hapijtaess now I love Arran Darleigh with aifiuyheart." "You are not much mora than sixteen —what can you know of lift) and love?" asked Lady Ryeford. '.'Be ruuonable. I should be a cruel mothef to you if 1 allowed you to marry a peabiljKgs barrister without a brief." sw "He will be rich some day, mamma, and famous. You do. not know what talent, what genius be has." "•I do not," said Lady Ryeford, dryly "nor does it matter. Even taking the rosiest of views, as you do, it must be many years before he can even offer you a home." "I am willing to wait, mamma." "But I am not willing. Are you to waste tbe best of your life, youth, and beauty, waiting for him?" "I should not^ call thenaffiwasted, wmma." 0% *'I should, worse than wasted. It would be almost acriaKito Allogr such a thing." 4 "Mamma," pleaded thtrfetrl, "I fear I have not always been a comfort to you. I have been imbaUentandVliscontented. Grant me tbe desire of my heart, and I will be the best of daughters la you, devoted aud submissive., Let tnete happy in my own fashion."

Lady Ryeford shook her heacPgravely "1 cannot," she replied. "As I said before, I would rather see yourtlfead than married to Arran Darleigh. You know, Irene, that you have the gift of exceptional beauty." "I know you think so, mamma," said the girl. "My dear, the world owns it. If I could ever persuade you to do as I wish, your success would be great." "Mamma, dear, this has' nothing to do with Arrau." "It has everything to do with him. Why should all year great gifts be thrown away upon a man in such a position? I have struggled to keep my place in society so that you might marry fcell —and indeed you ought to marry as well as any girl in Kngland." "So 1 shall, if you will let me marry the man I love. Mamma, you must know tbat brains are worth more than money, and tbat it is far better for a man to be horn clever than rich. Arran will be one of the first c.en in England before many years pass over his Dead. Sir William says so. "Sir William may be be an excellent judge of sheep, my love, but be is no Judge "f men,*' said her ladyship, blandly. rr ne, you can be a sensible girl when .-on like. Listen attentively to what 1 tn about to say. Suppose that I gave my consent to tbe marriage, what then? Ton would take a small boose in the eou try or rooms in town you wool*! %i, into a domestic drudge at eighth**. Better were it that you should die in u't the brightness of your youth and hiMiiy! 1 appeal to you, Irene— yon 1 uiy ambition. Sacrifice what met fly girl's fancy. There are several Hiaib men looking oat for a

Arran had made up his mind that be wife why try to captivate one of would not heave tbe house without tell- them?"

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WgMMMk

"A title has no attraction for me. mamma. I would rather marry Arran." Then Lady Ryeford rose, stately and wrathful. "Yoa will never marry Arran with my consent," she said. "While I live, he shall never enter my house, nor will 1 consent that you should ever see him."

Irene's face grew prouder and sterner. "Let us understand each other, mamma, Mid Irene. *'I am sorry that I can give you no promise of obedience. I fove Arran, and have promised to be bis wife, and I can no* break my promise. I will never stoop to anything claadestine but, if I meet him or see him anywhere, that is another matter. If he sends me a letter I shall aniwer it—you can always read both—and I shall keep my pledge to him until I die."

There the conversation ended, and from tbat hour a deadly struggle had been going on between mother and daughter. This was the love story told by Irene beautiful face, this was tbe "something" that had puzzled and interested the earl. Lady Ryeford bad continued rigidly inflexible Irene remained true to ner pledge.' The mother took her daughter to fashionable parties, to balls, to tbe opera but Irene bated the whole dreary round, and among all who disputed for the honor of a danoe, a word, a smile, there was not one who could say that he received the slightest mark pf favor from ber.

No love story could have been more hopeless than Irene s, but both she and Arran had faith and hope. They met occasionally. Once or twice they had happened to be at the opera on tbe same evening, and Arran had left the stalls aHd gone to the box where his beautiful young love was sitting. Once they met in the park, and on several occasions in the streets. Tben they enjoyed a few moirents of perfect happiness, aud renewed the promise that was to bind them till death. Once, when Irene and Lady Ryeford were driving along Piccadilly iu an. open carriage belonging to "MrsJ Carhampton, they passed Arran. He bowed low, but Lady Ryeford affected not to see him, and after tbat his name was not mentioned in Park lane.

Arran was working hard, and hetww success in tbe future. When any piece ofi .good luck befell him, he wrote to Irene and told her. The girl lived on his letters. She bad not received any for some days before -the earls arrival, and that, perhaps, was why she had felt so desolate.

One thing was certain. This great love, which she held as tbe dearest thing in life, sept her pure aud spotless fiom the world. It brought to

!(I

all her

noblest qualities, aud into activity those powers, if she had been a perfectly happy woman, would have lain dormant -mi*w is» 'tfciiiiiittt- CHAPTER XI. j.-s "WHICH OF THE GIRLS SHALL BECOME

COUNTESS OP CRADOC?"

Irene asked herself whether she should confide her love story to the eari. The more she saw of him the more she liked blm. There was a noble simplicity about him, a belief in others, which touched her heart. He was so easily deceived he thought so well of every one be never suspected meanness or underhand dealings. Irene bad grown almost to love him, now that she thought so much of him, and he liked to sit and talk to her about bis boys. "1 think," he said to ber one day, "that you and Daphne Krlecote are the two dearest girls I -have ever met. If my boys bad lived, 1 should have liked one co marry you aud tbe other Daphne."

Irene laughed and shook her head, longing to tell him of the only man she ild evir love or marry. She did not seek to comfort him as Daphne had she

never talked to him of the day when the sea would give up its dead, or of tbe time when he would understand that what he thought a blow was but a blessing iu disguise but she sympathized cordially with his disappointment, his bitter, unavailing sorrow that his boys should have died in the spring-tide of youth.

Irene had not a taste of avarice iu ber nature of self-aggrandizement she never thought. She had no love of riches for their own sake she would have heeu well pleased if sbe had had a fortune to give Arran but she bad never dreamed tbat the earl bad anv intention of adopting ber, or of leaving ber any of his wealth. As for scheming to secure bis favor, sbe would sooner have thought of iorglug his name.

Now that the time was drawing near for tbe visit to Poole, Lady Ryeford talked of nothing* else. Sbe spent the happiest fortnight of ber life, perhaps, while tbe two hundred pounds lasted. She went from shop to shop, discovering bargains that weie perfectly astonishing. "We shall have a complete wardrobe to take with us to Poole,' sbe said to her daughter. "Though you are indiffeieut about dress, when you Bee wbat 1 have bought for you, you must be pleased. But, Irene, you do not seem to me to care about Poole." "Yes, I do, mamma. I like the earl, and I shall be pleased to see bis home and everything that interests him but I do not like leaving London.'

As Lady Ryeford understood tbe reason why, she said uo more. Neither Poo\e nor any other place could interest Irene when Arran Darleigb was not near.

Lord Cradoc, having doueall that was possible, bad gone back to Poole, there to make arrangements for the reception of his young visitors.

He had much to tell Lady Man ia Hyde, and, listening to him, sbe grew almost as bewildered as be was hitneelf. He talked to her of Daphne flowerlike face and golden head—of her happy, blithe disposition, ber love of flowers, poetry, pictures, her self-sacrificing nature, her cheerful, bright contentment under condiU^s tbat would have been intolerable uS TOost girls. He spone of ber light-hearted nees, ber serenity, while her father spent on bis Utopian scheme the money tbat should have been accumulating for her. "Do you mean to tell me," said Lady Marcia Hyde, with wide-ofien eyes, "tbat Mr. Erleoote will leave nothing for Jpaphne?' "I

do not see that sbe will have even fifty pounds to call ber own," rephed the earl. "Mr. Grlecote has spent his all on pictures for the 'ErlecoteGallery,' which be intends leaving to tbe town of Nortbfield. I do not think tbat it will occur to him to leave even the v«lue of a single picture to Daphne. Yet sbe is as happy as can be, When sbe smiles ber face is like\ seraph s.' "How you love ber!" cried Lady Marda. "Yes," Mid the earl, with unconscious warmth, "I do, indeed!' "He tun certainly settled everything in bis own mind,' Lady Marcia thought to herself. "Daphne Erlecote will be Countess of Cradoc."

Did you invite Mr. Erlecote?" sbe Baked. I did but be declined. To him the color of a geranium leaf, the tint of a rosy cloud, tbe light and shade of a landscape, are of more importance than Poole and all that belongs to it. He cann help it, ]£arda. Hi* soul Is absorbed iq bis art. He i« interested in his daughter on aorountof ber exquisite coloring she Is a beautiful picture to

TERHE HAUTE SAT0M3AY EvS"ING- MAIL. -r-

him, nothing more.

Eortirait

paii ild 1

ler which 1 should like to

uy but no one dares mention such a tbin^to him as the purchase of a pic-

"Why he most be a madman!" cried Lady Marcia. "Heisagenius who has grown morbid, almost mad, over an idea. Yet Daphne's patience never fails ber. I do not see that she has any pleasure or enjoyment in life, except such as she derives from her great love of flowers." "She will find plenty of flowers here," said Lady Marcia complacently. "Yes, she will be as happy as the day is long. By-the-by, Marcia, it is a strange thing, but she has tbe Cradoc characteristics—blue eyes, fair and olden hair. There is something in Ler ace that reminds me of Alaric." "Ah, that being tbe case, she is sure to be Countess of Cradoc!" said Lady Marcia Hyde to herself. "Which suite of rooms shall.be prepared for her?" she asked. "Tbe sunny ones overlooking tbe flower-garden," replied the earl. "She will like those beBt, and they will suit her. And you will see that the rooms are made as pleasant as possible? Maicia, have plenty of flowers see that some good pictures are hung and let her have plenty of books. Dear Daphne! When you hear ber laugh, you will sav it is like a chime of sweet bells. If I gave her a name, it would'be 'Sunshine *she makes every place so bright." "He must havesoon decided," thought Lady Marcia. "I wonder if he gave the other girl any ohance

She. wisbea he.would speak to her on the point it would set her mind at rest. "Do you Chink I Shall love Daphne, Thane sbe asked. "I believe," he replied, "that every one who sees her loves her. All the people In Northfield worship her. It was* pleasant to mention her name, every face brightened so. There is no fear, Marcia the only thing is, you may love her too much." "No, I shall neVer do that,1' declared Lady Marcia Hyde. "I shall never again in' this world love any one as I loved your boys, Thane. I sball guard against that."

Tbe earl sighed. "Daphne will steal into your heart as she did into mine," be said. "Which rooms shall we prepare for Irene?" she asked. "I must think," he replied. "I do not imagine she will care for flowers as Daphne does let her have the suite of rooms that overlook the riv^r. aud the ruins. She will appreciate them. In my whole life," he continued, earnestly, "I have never met any one with so lofty a soul, so noble a mind, so fine a character." "That is high praise," said Lady Marcia, wonderingly. "I could never praise Irene highly enough," said the earl. "It is a thousand pities to find her energies so completely wasted as they are in the life that Lady Ryeford prefers. I have never met any one so capable. That girl could manage a kingdom. She has wondertul powers of administration and broad views of life." "Rather an unusual character?" quer ied Lady Marcia. "Yes. Aud she is truthful as truth it self sbe is one of those who would prefer death to dishonor. She is the very ideal of a noble woman-just, generous firm, ambitious in the right direction.' "And bow old?" asked Lady Marcia, "Between nineteen and twenty," he replied:

She must be a prodigy," said Lady Marcia. "She is one," replied the earl—"to my way of thinking, at least."

Lady Marcia looked with wonder at her biotber-in-law. "Thane," she

said,

slowly "you puzzle

me. Which do you consider the finer character of the two "I really do not know," ee answered. "Which do you like best?" she continued. "I cannot tell," he replied, hopelessly. "You do not know! You cannot tell! Why, 1 thought you had decided." "Certainly not," he answered. "How could I decide? When I first saw Daphne, I thought she must be my choice when I first saw Irene, I must own that I was not so charmed, but, after a time, I thought to myself tbat there was no one to compare with her." "How vexatious!" said Lady Marcia. "Had one been worthy and the other unworthy, your course would have been clear. What sball you do, Thaue?" "Heaven will help us," he replied. "I have full faith and firm hope that all will come right at last but as yet I cannot foresee which of the two girls will become Countess of Cradoc.

m- CHAPTER XII.

"BRAUiS ARE BETTER THAN MOKSf THE WORLD OVER."

Lady Ryeford had completed her preparations. There was just one more reception which she was anxious to attend, because tbe hostess had told ber that the young Earl of Studley would be there. It was almost a hopeless chance but Irene might be induced to listen to bim and tben—why, even the glories of Poole paled before Buch a prospect!

An event had happened just before which bad cheered Irene and given her hope. Arran Darleigh had made his name famous by bis defense of a man charged with murder. He had conducted the case so ably, bis speech for the defense bad been so clever, that the attention of the whole country was drawn to it. His briefless days were paat, his fortuoe was mad©. Nor was tbat ail. Not coBtent with giving bim more to do in a week than fie could get through in a month, the world opened iu arms to bim. He was invited to some of the best houses in town. Husbands, loosing over their wives' invitation list, said, "Do not forget to said a card to that rising young barrister, Arran Darleigb." And be accepted every invitation in tbe hope of meeting his beautiful young love.

When an invitation came from Lady Devon, bis heart beat high. She was tbe wife of an eminent judge, and ber husband, before whom tbe famous murder ease bad been tried, impressed upon ber not to foraet to invite "that young barrister to dinner." "A promising young man that, said he. "He will sit in my placesomeday, if he sticks steadily to work.-'

Tbe dinner party was to be followed by a dance. Lord Studley was invited, and Lady Ryeford bad promised to bring ber beautiful daughter.

Tbe widows race brightened with pleasure when sbe caught sight of tbe young peer. He bad beard that Miss Ryeford was to be present, and bis valet bad a bad quarter of an hour but toe result was satisfactory. He took a seat between mother and daughter, looking one moment ecstatically happy, tbe next absurdly miserable, for Irene's dark eyes glanced at him frigidly indeed, sbe all but ignored him. Tbat be should presume to admire ber seemed to ber almost an Insult for in her heart was enshrined a handsome powerful face, with eyes full of life and energy.

Sbe was absolutely startled when Arran Darleigb stood before ber she had not expected to see him. Lady Ryeford turned to her with stern facs.

"You did not tell me he was ooming," she whispered angrily. "I did not know," was the brief reply.

Lady Ryeford longed to forbid ber to spesk to him, or to acknowledge his presence but she dared not. lest she should sttract attention to that which she most wished to conceal. Arran bowed to the irate lady. There was an expression in her ey*es and about her mouth that he did not at all like. "A strong, coarse, common nature," he said to himself.

Still, as the mother of the girl he loved he was bound to pay all due respect to her.

It was delightful to see Irene's face as her lover came up to her. Tbe piide, tbe coldness, and tbe hauteur vanished like snow before tbe suu the glowing blushes, the tremulous happiness, the love-light in tbe glorious eyes, tbe smiles on tbe perfect lips, were beautiful to fee. No word passd between them when they met they only clasped each other's bands in silence but, as he gazed, his whole heart weit out to her, and he could have knelt at her feet. After a few seconds, he spoke. "I have been longing for this," he said. "You will find one half hour for me during the evening

Her face even more tbar her words told him how well pleased she would be to do so.

He lemained by ber side, talking to her, much to Lord (Studley's annoyance and Lady Ryeford wrath* until diuuer was served. Then he was compelled to give way, for Lady Devon asked the young earl to take Miss Ryeford down to dinner—a good-natured proceeding on the part of ner ladvship, as she knew quite well the story 6f his hapless and infatuated attachment to her.

Irene bore the anuoyauceas well asshe could. Fortuwatoly for her, tbe earl was somewhat of a gourmand. a good diuner being to bim an attraction second only to that of a beautiful face—and Lady Devon always gave good dinners— consequently she was not compelled to say muchjto him. He interspersed running comments on the wines and dishes with compliments to herself, and she was able to give her thoughts free course. How distinguished aud handsome her lover lo'oKea, with his eloqueut eyes, his tall, strong, well-built figure 1 How well he spoke-^with what animation and intelligence! As the dinner proceeded, she saw that he

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the'guest of the even

ing. Giadually everybody became interested in him the judge deferred to him the most brilliant men present enjoyed a "tilt" with him. He was what Lady Devon called "a social light,' and Irene was proud of him. "Howcan mamma be so blind?".she said to herself. "Brains are better than money all the world over. That dread-ful-look ing little earl has—I forget how many thousauds a year, and Arran has nothing but what he earns yet could any one hesitate for a moment between tbem? My Arran is one of nature's gentleman, a king among men the other—well, he might illustrate Darwin's theory of the descent of man." "That lawyer-fellow talks well," remarked the earl and then he wondered why the dark eyes flashed firo into his.

Later qp in the evening Lady Devon proposed whist, and Lady Ryeford, who was a good player and generally a winner, could not resist the temptation. She was afraid that, if she left Irene, Arran might at onoe seek her, yet she wis unable to resist the prospect of winning a little acceptable ready money.

But there could not be much barm done in a room full of people there could be no love-making. Lord Studley, too, was present, and he would be careful not to allow anyone to monopolize Irene's society. Lady Reyford sat down almost contentedly to her whist.

Now was the opportunity and Arran hastened to avail himself of it. He went up to Irene. "You have promised me half an hour, my darling." he said. "Will you give it to me now

Thev crossed the room together, Lord Studley following them with lealous eyes. He did not approve of this lawyer, who had so suddenly sprung into notice, engrossing the time end attention of the most beautiful woman in the room—one, too, who had been asked especially to meet bim. They were standing in the deep recess of tbe baywindow, talking quietly but earnestly. But such a state of things should not last long be would interrupt them. Lady Devon ought to manage things better than this. So the little lord fretted and fumed, while the two persons over whom be made himself so miserable were supremely happy. "I

can

of yours, Irene, and I cannot kiss your sweet lips," said Arran "but my heart has been aching to tell you once mere how dearly I love you." "It is weary waiting," siWTeturned with a smile and a half sigh. "But wbat good news for us, Arran 1 I bear that every one is talkingof you, and tbat you are tbe man of tbe day." "I shall claim you soon, my darling, and I sball have tbe noblest, dearest wife in tbe whole wide world. But it is of you I wish tospea»c, not of myself. Is it true that you are going to Poole with Lady Ryeford "Yes,"sbe replied "we are going on the day after to-morrow." "Shall you be long away, Irene "I am afraid we shall remain until Christmas." "Doyou like going "I do not like leaving y«n,"said Irene frankly. "I am happiestin London, because, although I do not see you often, there is alwsys a possibility that I may meet you. I wake every morning with that hope in my heart. We breathe the same air, hear tbe same sounds, see the

same

sights we are near one another— and that is always a comfort to me to remember. At Poole I sball be far away from yon." "Do you know wbat the "world says, Irene, my darling he asked slowly. "Nothing worth hearing, Arran. Tell me of yourself, not of tbe world. I do not like the world." "But ibis concerns you, my beautiful Irene. Tbe world says that Lord Cradoc will probably make you a wealthy hci r688.^ "Tbe world is wrong," sbe said, with a bright glad smile. "Why, tbat would be perfectly teirible, Arran! Things are baa enough as it is: but tbat 1 should become a wealthy heiress would be tbe most unfortunate thing that could bappen to us." "It would indeed." agreed Arran. "I have been miserable ever since I beard it." "Yon need not be so I shall always be trnetoyou." "My darling," be cried, "do not look at me witb such eyes! Hide tbem from me tbey make me desperate. Wssever a man so tormented One of tbe nobleest, loveliest women in tbe whole world is to be my wife, yet I can never see ber, speak to ber, kiss ber "Be eareful, Arran. Lord Studley la looking," said Irene. "If be enmes here, I shall open tbe window and drop bim out!" died Armo.

And Ireae bad to soothe bim as the alone knew now. QuObmed on 8evtnik Page. tJL

"M "i

PLAIN TRUTHS

The blood is the foundation of .g: Jife, it circulates through every part 'of the body, and unless it is pure

V'and rich, good health is impossible. If disease has entered the system

mj,the

only sure and quick way to drive it out is to purify and enrich the 1lood. T# These simple facts are wdt

Tuaown, and the highest medical authorities agree that nothing bat

r*iron

will restore the blood to its natural condition and also that .all the iron preparations hitherto ^made blacken the teeth, cause headache, and are otherwise injurious.

BROWN'S IRON BITTERS will thors^oughly and quickly assimilate with the blood, purifying and strengthening it, and thus dnve disease from 1 'any part of the system, and it will not blacken the teeth, cause headache or constipation, and is positively not injunous.

»«r

Saved his Child.

17 N. Eutaw St, Baltimore, Md. Feb. is, iB&v Gent*:—Upon the recommend** tlon of a friend I tried BROWN'S IRON BITTEXS a tonic and restorative for my daughter, whoa I waa thoroughly convinced wai wasting away with Consumption. Having lost three daughters by the terrible disease, under the care of eminent physicians, I was loth to believe that aoMinc could arrest the progress of roe disease, but, to my neat surprise, before my daughter had taken one bottle of BROWN'S IRON Btrraaa. she began to mend and now is quite restored to former health. A fifth daughter began to show signs of Consumption, and when the physician was consulted lie quickly said "Tonics were required and when informed that the elder sister was taking BROWN'S IRON Birrms, responded "that Is a good tonic, take it."

ADORAM PHRLPS.

BROWN'S IRON BITTERS effectually cures Dyspepsia, Indigestion and Weakness, and renders the greatest relief and benefit to persons suffering from such wasting diseases as Consumption, Kidney Complaints, etc.

Yilal Questions!

Ask the most eminent physician Of any achool, what is tbe boat thing in the world for quieting and allaying all irritation of the nerves and curing all forms of nervous complaint,

''Some form of Hop*! CHAPTER

Hend for circulars.

giving

natural, childlike refreshing sleep always? And they will tell

you

unhesitatingly

Ask auy or nil of tho most eminent physician a: "What is the best and only remedy tbat can be relied on to cure all diaeaaes of tbe idneya and urinary organ* auch as Bright'a diaeaae, diabetes, retention or inability to retain urine, and all the diseases and ailmernts peculiar to Women"— "And they will tell yon expllclty and cmphattcu ly ••Buchu."

Ask ihe wihie physicians •'What is the nu»t reliable and surrst cure for all llvt*r diseases or dyspepsia constipation, Indigestion bllllousness, malarial fever, ague die.," and they will ell you:

Mandrake or Dandelion I" Hence, when thene remedies are combined with others equally valuable

And compound Into Hop Bitters, such a [Concluded next week.)

OUNTAIN HOUSE, CKBSON

Caiiit

not clasp tbat sweet white band

HPK1NGS,

/oiiibrla county, Pa. Opens June 23d, close? October 1,1883. Keduced rules. Unsurpassed accommodations. On main line of Pennsylvania Railroad, 2.200 feel above sea level, situated in park of one hundred acrea, amid the matchless scenery of the AlU-Kbon-les, Its accessibility, pure air, and freedom from malaria, flies and moMjuitocs render It the moat desirable roaort In iheHtaic. Mpeclal mte round trip tickets on sale at all principal points.

During 1881 a new hotel -was erected—flretclaas in all Its appoliitin'-nis, and capable (with all ita cottages) of accommodating nearly 1,000 gues s. Cottages may be rented by those desiring the quiet and seclusion of home.

For descriptive circulars, diagram and terms, address W: D. TYLEll. Hup I. The ce eb: ated Logan House, Altoona, Pa., Is also under Mr. Tyler's management.

MILLERS HOTEL,

Nos. 37,88. & 41, West Twenty-Sixth Street,

NEW YOltK 11 V,

Between Broadway and Hlxth Avenue, near 4- is, Madison Park.

qulet^beaUby location, convenient by stages, home cars, k'-ft the elevated roads to all parts of the city.

In thecenter of retail t.-'de.plac sof amusements, and the principal motels and churches PERMANENT OR TRANSIENT GUESTS

RATES:—#2.50 to $4M per d«y $10.00 to 126.00 per week, according to size arid location of rooms. .Special rates for/amlift* or by tbe year. :m-t

I,-* t.

Ynr&Wii, *orasti Bnttai Connected with the hotel at reduced rate* to I»r. K. P. Proprietor.

C.H.HAYNEH. BnsinesaManager.'1

EN\S'S COCOA

MtB A MFAHT.

"By a thorough knowledge of the natural

Cocoa, Mr. Epps provided oor breakfast tables with a delicately flavored beverage which may save us many heavy doctors bills. It la by the Judicious use of such article* of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enough to re*m every tendency to disease. Hundred* of subtle maladtea are floating around us ready to attack wherever there 1* a weak point. We may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified wlili nourished frame. —[Civil Service

Made simply with bolling water or milk Sold tn tin* only (Wb. and lb.) by Grocers, uhfifii thus: Jsasra PP* A Po, Homoeopathic Chemists, London, England.

son* Ox,