Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 15, Number 47, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 May 1885 — Page 3

StfgS

TH E-MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

[Commenced In The Mall Deo 6tb. Back •Bin ben can be had on application at publication office or of news agents.]

Wyllard's Weird.

Having argued thus with himself the painter was content to trust to the chapter of accidents, which had been of late years the principal chapter in the history of his life. •'If you don't mind smoke," he mur mured, with a longing look at cigarette case

{ower

dowm

at the

most—banquets

rbetray

•^EESB

ton, ready to give him

g*r

Br MISS M. B. BRAD DON.

-m

ytotheraf"L«dy Aadley* Secret," "Aurora Flora," "The Outcast,"

Ac., Aa.

-A

CHAPTER. XXX.5 A 8HKTCH FROM MEMORY.

"You seem surprised at the mention of my name," said Heatbcote "have you ever heard of it before to-day

Tbe painter had recovered himself by this time. He told himself that his

tbAt

gen

tleman." "Yes, I know Trottier," answered Heatbcote, far from pleased at finding that tbe painter and the paragrapbist were on frieudly terms.

It was not unlikely that Trottier had warned his friends against answering any inquiries about Georges. "Then I think you must bave beard a good deal about me," said Eugene Tillet with a satisfied smile. "Trottier knew me when I was in the zenith of ny power—glorious days—glorious alghta, those. The days of Gautler and Gustave, Plauche, Villemessaot, Roquepliiit Z-ivler Aubryet, the days when there were wits in Paris, monsieur. Ah, you should have soon our after tnld night cenacle at the Cafe Riche. How the pale dawn used to crawl In upon our talk and how be defied the waiters, when between two aud three o'clock they tried to put out the gas and get rid ef us. I remember one night bow we all came with ends of candles in our

lockets and when tbe waiters began to the gas, lit our caudles, a veritable illumination. They never tried to put out our lamps after that. Yes. those were glorious nights and art was honored in those days. There was a man sailed Georges, a French Canadian, I believe a man of large fortune and splendid brains—he came to a bad end afterwards, I am sorry to say"—this with airiest indifference. "He used to give little sunpers at the Cafe de Paris er the Maison d'Or, suppers of half a

for the

gods. I was generally one or theclrcle." "You paiuted this friend of yours, no doubt," suggested Heathcote, "this Monsieur Meurges." "No, he bad a curious antipathy for sitting for his portrait. I wanted to paint bira. He had a fine head, bigblv pain table. A fine, picturesque bead, which was all the more picturesque on account of a particularly artistic wig.

Do you mean to say that he wore a wiff "Habitually. He had lost his hair in South America after a severe attack of fever and It had never grown again. He wore alight auburn wig, with hair that fell loosely aud carelessly over tbe forehead, almost touching his eyebrows. The style suited him to perfection and the wfg was so perfect that I doubt if any one but a painter or a woman would have detected that it was a wig. Lie dressed in a careless, seml-plcturesqoo style—turn-down collar loose necktie, velvet coat, aud with that long hair of his he had altogether the air of a painter •r a poet." ••And you never painted him?" ••Never. I have sketched his head many a time from memory, for my own amusement, both before and after bis disappearance, but he never sat to me. 1 might have made money by giving the police one of my sketches, when they were trying to hunt him down as a sus-

ted murderer, but I am not a Judas, the friend at whose table 1 have eaten," said the painter, whose Sorlptural knowledge was derived solely from the old masters, and who regarded the disciple's crime from a purely social point of view.

Heathcote was careful to show the least possible curiosity about the vanishwtlk (KA atv f\9

bit!

for'the sweepings of bu studio. His bands were tremulous as he unlocked a cupboard and drew forth three or four dusty sketch hooks from the place where they had lain for the l&st ten years aegleeted, forgotten, counted as mere lum-

His hand had long lost its cunning, and in that slough of despond into which he bad gone down, he had lost even tbe love of his art. It has been said that an artist may lose in a twelvemonths the manipulative power which

it bas cost him many years to acquire, an'' it is a certainty that Eugene Tfllet'i hand could not, for the offer of thon sands, bave produced anything as good as tbe worst of drawings in those naifforgotten sketch books. "If we can find anything in either of these books that you would care to have," he said, laying tbe dusty volumes in front of Heathcote. "But you had better wait till I get them dusted for you."

But Heatbcote was too eager to endure delay. He wiped off some of tbe dust with his cambric handkerchief, and

opened

the uppermost volume

visitor was in all probability Hilda's The sketches were full of talent, inbrotber, and that it was his duty to his teresting to any lover of art. They were fair young friend to conceal tbe fact of sketches over which Edward Hettbcote her residence under that roof. would have lingered long under circum-

H© wa» capable ol so tnucb perspicuity stances* As it was he Lad considerable as this, but be was quite incapable of difficulty in concealing his impatience prompt action. He was too listless to and appearing interested in tbe book in •lake an' excuse for leaving his visitor, the abstract. He remembered himseir in order to put tbe servant upon her so far as to select two pencil sketches of guard, and so prevent Hilda's appear- girlish faces before he closed the first ance before Mr. Heathcote's departure. The chances were, thought Tiliet, that the virit would bo bref, while, on tbe other hand, Hilda had gone to the Conservatoire, and was not likely to return for some time.

volume, which contained not drawing that bore upon tbe object of his search. Tbe second was also a blank, but out of this Heathcote chose three or four clever caricatures, with the painter cut out at his request. "You must kindly pat down your own price for those things," he said, as be opened the third volume.

Ou the second page he

garette case. prise, aunougn mm peucueu hmuw, "1 am a smoker myself, and I delight the last link of the chain, served only to |D jt." confirm the settled conviction which "On this, Monsieur Tiliet offered his had lately possessed his ruind, thesbock r* .. mt AM A vt#l 14 Aj4 A mUa rt /I (TO Vl A K1 An/1

ease to tbe Englishman, and lighted a cigarette for himself. "Yes, I have heard your name before," he said slowly and reflectively. "1 think it must have been my friend Trotler, Sigismund Trottier, one of the contributors to the Taon. He has mentioned an English acquaintance called Heatbcote. Perhaps you are

Haw

the face he

bad been looking for, the face he had expected to see. But, although this the thing did not come upon him as a surprise, although that penciled llkenese

was sharp enough to drive tbe blood from his face, to set bis heart beating like a sledge-hammer.

It was so then. It was as be had thought, ever since his conversation with Bartje Leroux. This was the man. This was Marie Prevol's lover snd her murderer. This was the cold-blooded assassin of Leonie Lemarque.

He sat silent, breathless, staring blankly at the face before him a vigorous pencil-drawing of strongly marked features, eager eyes, under drooping hair, a sensitive face, a face alive with passionative feeling. The eyes looked straight at the spectator the lips seemed as if, In the next instant, they would move in speech. The attitude was careless, bands clasped on the back of a chair, chin resting on the clasped hands, the whole bust full of power and intention. Yee, just so might an ardent thinker and eloquent speaker have looked at one of those midnight gatheringsof wits and romancers. Tbesketch was evidently an immediate reminiscence, and must have been made wben the subject was a vivid image in the artist's mind.

Happily for Heatbcot's secret, bis agitation eutirely escaped Eugene Tillet's notice. The painter was dreamily contemplating the sketches he had just cut out of his book, and thinking what a great man he had J^een when he had made them. '•I should like to have this one," said Heatkcote, when he had recovered himself, "and this, and this, and thiq,' he added, turning the leaves hastily, and choosing at random, so as to make the first choice less particular.

Monsieur Tillett cut out all that were indicated to him. "That is the man I was talking to you about," he said, as be laid tbe portrait of Georges with the rest of tbe sketches. "It is a wonderful likeness, too, extraordinary likeness, dashed off at a white heat one morning, after I had been particularly impressed by the charm of bis society. He was a mau in a thousand, poor devil. A pity that he should have got himself into such a diagreeable scrape later. But he was a fool for running away. He ought to have given himself up and stood his trial." "Why T" "Because he would have inevitably been acquitted. You may murder anybody you like in France if you can show a sentimental motive for the crime, aud this business of poor Georges was entirely a sentimental murder. Tbe verdict would have been 'Not Guilty.' I havo no doubt' the populace would have cheered him as he left the Palais de Justice, and he would have been the rage in Parisian society for mouths afterward." "Bat you who knew both the victims you who have receieved kindnesses from Maxluie de Maucroix, surely you cannot judge that double murder with so much leniency," expostulated Heathcote.

Tbe painter shrugged his shoulders with infinite expression. "Maxime de Maucroix was a most es timable young man," he said, "bat what the devil was be doing in that galley ••And now if you will kindly tell me the sum total of my small purchases I shall have great pleasure la giving yon notes for the amount," said Heathcote, shocked at the Frenchman's cynicism.

Monsieur Tiliet handed him his hastily jotted amonnt. The prices he had put upon his sketches were extremely modest, considering the man's vanity.

Heatbeote was now assured of the one you. I do aot think you will ever refaot which he wanted to know. The gret having bought them." •tinter had made numerous sketches While Eugene Tiliet was seaching still in his possession, as thsy would among the litter of papers, wood blocks lave bad little value for tbe dealers and Bristol board upon his son's table, The question now is to get at his sketch in the hope of finding two stray pieces books as quickly as possible. of cardboard within which to guard hi* "The mention of your sketches recalls sketches, the door was quickly opened, the object of my visit, which your very and two girls came into the room, delightful conversation had made me Tbe first was Mathilde Tiliet, the almost forget," said Heatboote. ond was Heathcote's sinter. •uaene acknowledged the compli- "Hilda!" be exclaimed.

»e&t with a smile. Hilda Mood before him in silence, "I am very anxions to become tbe with drooping head, painfully erestpossessor of few of your sketches in fallen, Slack and white, color. pencil, what you will. There is ao kind of art that I love

The amount oame in all to less tban a

itwK possiDiecunuvuj auuu» «uisu- thousand francs, but Heathcote insisted •d Georges. He listened with the air of upon making the payment fifteen hana man who Is charmed by a delightful dred, and indateoce which was infiniteeon versatlonallst, who admires tbe ly gratifying to fallen genius, raconteur, but who has no personal in- '1 shall remember, monsieur, upon tareat in the subject of the discourse, my deathbed that there was an EnglishAnd Eugene Tiliet was accustomed so man who appreciated my work when to talk and so to be heard. He was an my countryman had forgotten me," be egotist of the first water, and was not a said with mingled pathos and Indignity. «Tose observer of other people. "Allow me to pat up the sketches for

love faltered at last.

heUer than those first airy fancies of the "Nobody told me," he answered, painter's mind, those jotting* of In spir- smiling at her embarrassment. "I have ttioa. I am the possessor of a few very not even been looking for yon, or makaioe things in that way." this was strict- tag inquiries aboat your whereabouts, ly true,^sketches by Mulready, Leslie, Your letter was so very self-assertive. Madias and man} other of oar English you seemed so completely mistress of artists. 1 should aaooh tike to add the situation, that I felt It wosid befall" yonrs to na taintfTat UMcomltfment. It was" very well Gmhame| Uwoold be wry incon "*—J to boy ststent of me to oppose yomr raw

It was tioa of him."

Tery long sines he ted touched money Hilda gave a faint sigh. TWs •f us own earning. Aad her* was sn of her brother's was aaaurtag.bat It IrsBsfltaih milord, an «thuslsslio almpi* ftisd disersdlt to

A/i

fain have stood up for her true knight," would fain have praised him whom she had forsaken but she felt it was safer to hold ber peace. By and by, wben her sacrifice was completed, and when Bothwell Grahame was Laay Valeria's husband, she could afford to defend his character. •*Ne, my dear child, our meeting is quite accidental. I came here to see Monsieur Tillet's drawings." "Our young friend is known to you, monsieur," inquired Eugene Tiliet, who had looked on with some appearance of interest at a conversation of which he did not understand a word.

This Mr. Heathcote was evidently Hilda's brother, of whom Mile. Duprez had spoken oefore she introduced Hilda to tbe family circle. "Your young friend is my sister, monsieur," answered Heatbcote, "and since she was determined to run away I am glad she fell into such good hands."

And now yon have found her yon are going to carry her off, I suppose," said Tiliet. "It will be a pity, for I hear that ber talents bave made a great impression upon one of tne cleverest professors at the Conservatoire, and that she may do great things with ber voice if she pursues hei studies there. My young people will be in despair of losing her." "They shall not lose ber quite immediately," replied Heathcote, "though if she is bent upon studying at the Conservatoire I think it would be better for ber to bave ber old governess to look after her in Paris." •'Fraulein Meyerstein!" exclaimed Hilda. "She would worry me out of my life. She would talk about—about— tbe past." She could not bring herself to mention Bothwell's name just yet. "My only chance of ever being happy agaiu is to forget my old life. There is some possibility of that here, among new faces and new surroundings. And they are all so kind to me—Madam Tillet is like a mother."

All

this was said hurriedly in English, while Monsieur Tiliet discreetly occu-

Eooks.

ied himself in putting away bis sketcb Matbilae had withdrawn and was telling her mother the unpleasant surprise that had greeted her return. "How did you come to know these people?" asked Heathcote. "Mile. Duprez brought me here. She has known the Tillets all ber life. She will answer to you for their respectability." "Well, we will think about it. Let me look at you, Hilda. You are not looking particularly brilliant. It does not seem to me that Paris agrees with you over well." "Paris agrees with me quite as well as any other pUce," she answered quietly.

He took her hand and led ber to the window and looked thoughtfully into the sad, pale face, with its expression of settled pain. Yes, he knew what that look meaut he had experienced that dull, slow agony of a breaking heart. She bad surrendered all that was dearest in life and she must live through the aching sense of loss, live cn to days of dull contentment with a sunless lot. He who himself had never learned tbe lesson of forgetfuluess was not incline! to think lightly of his sister's trouble. "You look very unhappy, Hilda," he said. "I begin to question the wisdom of your conduct. Do you believe that Bothwell really cared more for this audacious widow than for you?" "He bad been devoted to her for rears," auswered Hilda. "I saw his etters I saw tbe evidence of his love uuder his own hand. He wrote to her as he never wrote to me." 'He was younger in those days," argued Heathcote. "Youugsters are fond of big words." "Ah, but that first love must be the truest. I never cared for any one till I saw Bothwell, and 1 know that my first love will be my last." "I hope not," said Heathcote. "I hope you have acted wisely in your prompt renunciation. There were reasons why I did not care for the match." "You surely bave left off suspecting him," said Hilda, with an indignant look. "You are not mad enough to think that be was coneerned in that girl's death!" "No, Hilda, that suspicion is a thing of tbe past. And now let us talk seriously. You bave set your heart upon pursuing your studies at the Conservatoire?" w"It is my only object in life." "And you would like to remain In this family? "Very much. They are the cleverest, nicest people I ever knew—with the exception of my nearest and dearest, you aud Dora—and Bothwell. They are all kindness to me. The life suits me exactly. 1 should like to st$r here for a twelvemonths." "That is a categorical answer," said Heathcote, "and leaves me no alternative. I will make a few inquiries abQ&t Mr. Tiliet and his surroundings, and if the replies are satisfactory, you shall stay here. But I shall seud Gloaspp over to look after you and your frocks. It is cot right that my sister should be without a personal attendant of some kind." "I don't want Glossop. If she oomes here she will write to her friends in Cornwall and tell them where I am." "No, she won't. She will bave my Instructions before I send ber here. She sball send all ber Cornish letters through me. And now good-bye. It Is just possible that I may not see you again before I leave Paris." "You are going to leave Paris soon "Very soon." "Then I suppose you bave found out all you want to know about that poor girl who was murdered."

"Yes.

(#1

'Somebody tokl you

was here," she

I have feund out all I want to

know." "Thank God! It was so terrible to think there were people living who could suspect Bothwell.'' "It is horrible to think there was any man base enough to murder that helplees girl—a man so steeped in hyprocrtsy that he oould defy suspicion." "You know who committed the murder?" inquired Hilda. "I can answer no more questions. Ton will know sll in time. Tbe difficulty will be to forget the hideous story wben yen have once beard it. Good by."

They were alone in the Tiliet salon, Monsieur Tiliet having retired while they were talking. He reappeared on the landingoutsidetoband Mr. Heathcote the parcel of sketches and to make his respectful adieux to that distinguished amateur. "Monsieur, your brother, is the most charming Englishman I ever met," mid

staircase.

bar

BoUiwsU. would

Hilda when his visitor

the painter to had diss

ppeared in tbe obscurity of the

TBRRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

He patted his waistcoat pocket spoke. Tbs sensation of having bank notes there was altogether new. He bad been fed upon tbe lkt of tbs land by his devoted wife be had been pro video with petty cash by his dutiful children but to touch a lump sum, the pries of bis own work, sseooed the reaewal ef youth. "Do yo« remember tbe curious name of thatpietureof Laadaeer's.mschatta." bs sskl, chocking bis wife under tbs chin when sbe asms bustling in from

housewifely errand*." »"Zalr Is lif la as dogoe, que volsL Ssshsrs, I bsvu moomj white you IMP**

He Bhowed her the corner of the little sheaf of notes, coquettisbly. She held out her band, expecting to De intrusted with the treasure bnt he shook his head gently, smiling a tender smile. "No, mon enfant, we will not trifle with this windfall," he said. "We will treat it seriously, it shall be the nucleus of the future fortne, j' acheteral dee rantes."

The tears welled up to the wife's honest eyes, tears not of gratitude, but of mortification. She knew this husband of hers well enough to be very sure that every sous in those bank notes would have dribbled out of tbe painter's pocket in a few weeks, but that no one, least of all the squanderer himself, would know how it was spent, or in what respect he was ti|e better for its expenditure.

CHAPTER XXXI.

WAITING FOB HIS DOOM.

Life for Dora Wyllard was more than ever melancholy for Hilda's disappearance.. The girl's companionship had been her only ray of sunshine during this time of sorrow and anxiety. Iu her sympathy with Hilda's joys and hopes sbe had been able to withdraw herself now and then from the contemplation of her own' misery. Now this distraction was gone, and she was alone with her grief.

Julian Wyllard bad shewn much greater anger at Hilda's conduct than bis wife bad anticipated. He bad taken the lover under his protection, he liid been curiously eager for their marriage, had talked of it, and had hurried it on with an almost feverish impatience. And now he would uot hear any excuse for Hilda's conduct. "Sbe had acted like a madwoman." he said. "When everything had been ar ranged to secure her future happiness with Both well, her devoted slave, she allows herself to be driven away by tbe audacity of a brazen-faced coquette. I have no patience with her. But if Bothwell has any brains be ought to be able to ffnd her in a week and bring her to her senses." "Perhaps Bothwell may not care about running after her," speculated Dora. "Oh, a man who is over head and ears in love will endure any outrage. He is a slavish creature, and tbe more be is trampled upon the better he loves his tyrant. It remains to be seen which of the two women Bothwell would rather marry—Hilda, with her rustic simplicity, or the widow, with her slightly damaged reputation and very handsome income." "He does not waver for a moment between them." "Ah, that is all yon know but if be does not give chase to Hilda you may be sureit is because in his heart of hearts he hankers after the widow."

Bothwell had gone back to Trevena, intending to pay the builders for the work they have done, and suspend the carrying out of tbe contract indefinitely.

He wound bare to give them some compensation no doubt for delay but they were good, honest, rustic fellows, and be was not afraid of being severely mulcted.

Julian Wyllard

spoke

of Bothwell and

his love affairs with the irritability of a chronic sufferer, and Dora listened and sympathized and Boothed the sufferer as best she might. Her burden was very heavy in these days. Te see her beloved suffer and to be able to lesson bis piin, that was indeed better. And in bis case the, palliating drugs which deadened bis agooh seemed almost a worse evil than the pain itself. The constant use of morphia and chloral were working their sad effect and there were times wben the sufferer's mind wandered. There were dreams which seemed more agonizing than wakeful hours of pain. Dora sat beside ter husband's couch and watched him as be slept, under the influence of morphia. She listoned to tbe dull nmtterings, in French for tbe most part. He rarely spoke any other language In that troubled state of tbe brain between dreaming and delirium. It was evident to ber that bis mind, in these intervals of wandering, habitually barked back to the days of his residence in Paris, ten years ago. And his hulluciations at this time seemed always of a ghastly character, the scenes he looked upon were steeped in blood, doubtless a reminiecence of those hideous days of tbe Commune, when Paris was given over to fire and carnage. She shuddered as she Baw the look of horror in bis widely opened, yet sightless eyes—sightless for reality, but seeing strange visions—shapes of dread. She shuddered at the wild cry which broke from those white lips, the infinite pain in the lines of the forehead, dp rap with the dew of anguish.

In his waking hours, when free from the influence of chloral, the suflferer's brain was clear as ever but the irritation of his nerves was intense. A sound, the slightest, irritated bim. A footstep in the corridor, a ring at the hall door, startled him as if it had been a thunder clap. His senses seemed always on the alert, and there was no middle state between that intense activity of brain and tbe coma or semi-delirium which resulted from opiates.

Sir William Spencer bad been down to Penmorval twice since the invalid's return, but his opinion bad not been hopefnl on either occasion. On the second time of his coming be bad seen a marked change for the worst. Tbe malady had made terrible progress in a short interval. And now, on this dull gray Autumn afternoon, within twen-ty-four hours of Heathcote's visit to the Rue du Bsc, the famous Dhvsician came

to Penmorval for the third time, and again could only bear witness to tbe progress of evil.

Wyllard insisted upon being alone with tbe physieaa. "Sr William, I want you to tell me the truth about my case the unsophisticated truth. There will be

end gain

ed by your withholding it, for I have read up the history of tills disease of mine, and I know what I have to expect. A gradual extinction, disfigurement and ana distortion of every limb and every feature, beginning with this withered, daw-shaped band, and creeping on and on, till I lie like an idiot, dgbtless, tssteless, with lolling tongue dribbling upon my pillow. And throughout this dissolution of the body I may yet, if especially priveleged, retain tbe faculties of my mind. I may be to tbe last conscious of ail that I haTe bora snd all that I am. Then is tbe redeeming feature. I shall perish molecule by molecule, feeling my own death, able to appreciate every change, every stage in the Inevitable progress of decay which other men suffer unconsciously under •round. I sball suffer consciously above ground. That is the history of iy eass, I take it, «r William." "There have been such cases." "Yes, aad mine is one of these." **T da ear that. Tbe fatal are continually in tbs majority, but there have been curea. Whatever medi cine can do—" "Will be dooe for ma. Yes. I know

lard," replied tbe great physician, with that grave and kindly tone which bad brought comfort to so many, tbe indescribable comfort a sympathetic nature can always impart. "As your adviser, it is my duty to tell you that it would be well your house was set in order." "All has been done. 1 made my will alter my marriage. It gives all to my wife. She will deal with my fortune as the incarnate spiritof justice and benevolence. I have supreme confidence in her wisdom and in ner goodness." "That is well. Then there is no more to be said."

Ten minutes later the physician was being driven back to the station, and Julian Wyllard was alone. "And Swift 6xpires a driveler and a show," he repeated, in a tone of suppressed agony. "Yes, that is the horror. To become a spectacle—a loathsome object from which even she would shrink away with averted eyes. That is tbe sting. Facial ansBthesia—every muscle paralyzed, every feature distorted. Ob, for the doomsman to make a shorter end of it all. Tbe face bas been spared so far—speech has been to falter. But it is coming it is coming. I found myself forgetting common words this morning wben I was talking with Dora. 1 caught myself babbling like a child that is just beginning to talk."

He t«»ok up a hand mirror which he bad asked bis wife to leave sear bim, and contemplated himself thoughtfully for some moments. "No, there is no change yet in tbe face, except a livid hue, like a corpse alive. The features are stijl in their right places, tbe mouth nct'yet drawn to one side tbe eyelids still firm. But all will follow in its time. If there were but an easier way out of it now, and one could take it, just at tbe right moment, without being too much of a cavern.

He glanced at tbe table by bis sofa, a capacious table, holding bis books, bis reading lamp, aud bis dressiug-ease with its costly appliances. "If I did not waut to know the issues of Heathcote's inquiries. If Oh! for some blow from tbe sledge hammer of Destiny, that would put an end to all irresolution, take my fate out of my own bands. A blow that would annihilate me and yet spare her—if that could be.''

Aloud ringing at tbe ball door sounded like an answer to an invocation. Julian Wyllard lifted bis bead a little way from the silven-covered pillows and turned bis haggard eyes toward tbe door leading into the corridor.

After an interval of some moments there came the sound of footsteps, the door wa? opened and a servant announced "Mr. Heathcote." *arrlFl\iS

Heatbcote stood near the threshold, bat in band, deadly pale, grave to solemnity, mute as death itself. "You have come back, Heatbcote?" asked the invalid, with an off-hand air. "Thou I conclude you bave accomplished your mission, or reconciled yourself to failure." "I have succeeded in my mission beyond my hopes," answered Heathcote. "But my success is as terrible to myself as it must be to others." "Indeed. Does that mean that you have solved the mystery of the Freuch girl's death "It means as much and more tban that. I have found the murderer of Leonie Lemarque and ber aunt, Marie Prevol, and ber aunt's admirer, Max ime de Maucroix. A man must have a mind and heart of iron who could car ry the consciousness of three such murders with a calm front who could clasp his innocent wife to bis breast, accept her caresses, her devotion, her revering love—knowing himself the relentless devil that he is! Julian Wyllard, thou art the man "I am 1" answered the white lips resolutely, while the haggard eyes flashed defiance. "I am that man. I bave obeyed that destiny, which was to love and have wltb a desperate bate. I bave gratified my love and my hatred. I have lived, Heathcote. lived as men of your stamp know not how to live lived with the uttermost drop of blood in my veins, with every beat of my passionate heart, and now I am contented to go to "Sj'SJlSTr1

A wall—the agonizing cry of a despairing woman—sounded in the utterance of that name. [OONTINUKD NBXT WEEK.]

ANew Orleans paper refers editorially to the wonderful restoration to health of Mr. T. Posey, druggist, 225 Canal street, that city, who some time ago was prostrated by an excruciating attack of sciatica. After mucb suffering bis wife applied St. Jacob* Oil, which cured him promptly and entirely. _____

saH

GERManIEMOT

JVw/lmai

draamt.

tfca bat,

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FUtr dent*. A* DraggM* MMl Dwton.

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PROMPT.SAFE.SURE

All

Threat

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a 4

Sorts

fctuts many sorts of ails of pun and beast need a cooling lotion. Mustang Liniment

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nee:

And Every Species of Itch* Ing and Burning Diseases Positively Cured.

and a simple application of CmrusA, U» great Skin Cure. This repeated daily, with two or three doses of CTTTICURA REeoi/rarL the New Blood Purifier, to keep the blooo cool, the perspiration pure and unirrltatina, tne bowels open, the liver and kidney active will speedliy cure Ecaema, Tetter, Ringworm, Psoriasis, Lichen Pruritus, Soallm Head, Dandruff, and every species of Itohlng, Scaly and Pimply Humors of the 8cal|j and Skin, when the best physicians and aR remedies fall.

Will McDonald, 2543 Dearborn tit, Chioago, gratefully acknowledges a cure of Ec»ma or Salt Kheum on head, neck, face, artM and legs for seventeen years not able tto walk except on haudB and knees foi ona year not being able to help himself for eight years tried hundreds of remedies doctow pronounced his case hopelesr cured by Cuticura Resolvent I internally, and Cuticura (the great skin cures) externally.

Chas. Houghton, Esq., lawyer, 38 State St., Boston, reports a case of Ecaema under* his observaton for ten yeare, whieh eoverea^ the patients body aud limbs, and to wnle*' all known methods of treatment bad bee** applied without bei eflt, which was eom-plett-ly cuaed solely by the Cuticura Rem«dles, leaving a clean and healthy skin. ~F. H. Drake, Esq., Detroit, Mich., suflter-, ed untold torture* from Ecaenin, which ap-' peartd on my hands, face and head, nearlyft destroyed his eyes After the most carefi*^ doctoring and a consultation of pliyslclansY failed to relieve him, and he nsed the Catty cura Remedies, and wns cured, and has remained so to date.

Mr. John Thiel, Wilkesbavre, Pa., wriies: "I have suffered fiom Suit Rheum for over, eight years, at times so bad that could notv attend to my business for weeks at a time.-' Three boxes of Cuticura and four bottles Resolvent have entirely cured me of this dreadful disease."

Sold ever* where. Price: COTICTRA, CO ots. RESOLVENT, 11.00 SOAP, 35 cents. POTTER DRUG AND CHEMICAL CO., Boston, Mass. Send for "How to Cure Skia DlMMHn'1'

PTTTTCURA SOAP. An exquisiteTolU*, 11 Bath, and Nursery Sanative.<p></p>CATARRH That pure, sweet, s»fe, and effective American distillation of Witch-Haiel, Americas Pine, Canad* Fir, Mnrleold, and Clover-,

Blo-som, called Banfoia's Radical Cuaa Catarrh, with one B*x Catarrhal Solvent and Sanford's Inhnler, all in one package, forming a complete treatment, of all druggists for ®1. Ask for HAWRORD'S RA»* ICAL CURE. POTTHR DRUG AUD CHWMICM. Co., Boston.

Complete Local and Constitutloaal Trwitmentfor every form of Catnrrh. irom a Sim--pie Cold Influenza to loss of 8mell, Taste, and Heurlng, Cough, Bronchitis, and Catarrhal onsuinptlon, In every package.

Clergymen. Vocalists,

And Public Speakers without number ewa their present usefulness and success to Baaford's Radical Cnr» for Catarrh.

Rev. Dr. Wlggln says: "One of the best remedies lor Catarrh—nay, the best remedy we ave found In a lifetime of suffering—m Sivnford's Radical Cure. It clears the head HIKI throat so thoroughly that, taken eaah morning on rising, there are no nnplensaat st cretlons and no disagreeable hawking daring the entire day, but an unpreoedentea clearness of voice and respiratory organs. POTTER DRUQ AND CHEMICAL Co., Bowtea. dfci«vai^_ Wmry nufferer irom

CORheumati-m, Neuralgia Weak and Sore Lungs. VOLTAIC Coughs nnd Colds.'Weak:

D, -.oCL Back, Weak Stomach and Bowels, Dyspepsia, FemnU- \v tMHi.tss, Shoottng Pains through,, the Loins and Back, try these Piaster*. Placed over the pit of the Stomach, they

Eliver

revent and cure Ague Pains, Bilious Oolit, Complaints, and protect the sysleaii from a thousand ills. 26c.

XTELGEN'S STEAM DYE HOUSE,,

IU 600 Main St., MeKeen's Block. The only Steam Dye House In the city. lni sn1

Dyeing and Scouring of all kindsof Ladte GenU' and Children's wear, such as B1QQL Satins, Cashmeres, Alpacas, etc., cleaned or

All

dyed in any deslrab shade. Kid gloves or kid slippers cleaned or dyed, lace curtains aud lace ties cleaned, shawls cleaned or died, plumes, cleaned or dyed, gents' garments cleaned, dyed and repaired..

All my work Is done by a steam procew*' which makes it look as nice asi new. A maA can save buying a new suit by taking his old clothing to Nelgen and have him te clean, dye and repair it. Ladles can do the same with their dresses by having than cleaned and dyed.-

lip!

W-

JOHN H. NELOKV

Why eall Callen.dar's Liver BiWelw the Left Liver Bitterst Because the* human liver Jsn« trade mark aflg our left liver, see u' on each botULs none an #1 wlthoutlt. t'

Why nee the human liver as trade mark? Beca»a»

bitters

PatmUed April 14,1874.nyer bitters is a specialty for Liver Comp.aints In all thef forms. Being compounded from pure ioa 1 peach, the great appetl*er« favorite family tonle and

hertw, and old peach, the great of the age, a favorite family tonle and^a warranted medicine. Uver bitters get Ht Ike seat of all diseases »»y the direct action, open-

lies thefSoodand beifctiies the skfn. Ask. your druggists for them. Manufacturedi Barbero Calletidar, Peoria, Ills. Soldi Terre Haute by the following droggkrf Adamson A Krttenstlne, Ml Main »t., Cookj Bell, 801 Main st, J. J. Baur A Bon, 7W Mi C. F. Zimmerman, 1M1 Main, C. C. bei Poplar, J. A. Willlson, 601 4th, Allen Havens, 600 1Mb. J. E. Homes, K. 6th and Ohio

FaxK.—ArietiiB ef rontbfal lm

0VLTTKUI

IRON ONIC

Will h»j

erf

"jwfTemf^fle~ mlaa lies Brtla FogSs ipMDtM

I'AniW^S

RICHMOND PINKS,

ParplMud '•QufccrStjlM" perfectly (aatand reliable. O S A E A O O O 8 E a