Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 15, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 1 October 1887 — Page 4

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

[COPYRIGHTED.]

Roger Laroque.

Adapted and Translated from the French of Jnles Mary.

BY OLIVE HARPER.

iei/un in The Mail Aug. 27.]

CHAPTER XL

"The first days after the arrival of Roger and ihls daughter at the White House were very busy, but sooa Suzanne began to have a little more time, which she occupied in riding about the pleasant neighborhood, sketching and gnthen::^ tho wiid flowers and ferns that that grc so bountifully in every direction. ^Ono morning shu started early wiui her implements to vidt un old abbey, which bad many historic rocollections, and reached there about 8 o'clock, end gave ber borse in chargo of the guard, who had a little cottage near by. This c.bbey was oonsidered a fine piece of architecture and was kepi in repair by tho caro of Baronets Nathaniel De Rothechild, to whom it belonged. •8iiruine wont to work diligently and -pointed continually until about noon, transferring Ux sccne to her canvass with much effect. Tlioti she suddenly discovered thct she was both buugry and thirsty. "I will go lk. Pel after all"

sand g^t a drink. Perhups that is all I want,

She returned to the keopor's house, and •Afccre tho keeper'* wife, a buxom, hai:(Uomo •yamng woman, offered Suzanne some iuuch, £and«s she sat at the snowy table a young man iu hunter's oostume entered the door with liin £«n and gamo bag, followed by a .magnificent hunting dog.

He bowed profoundly without speaking, anfi tho keeper's wi/e pleasantly, if somewhat awkwardly, presented him, saying: '"Mademoiselle, do not be iIroicL This is a -gentle youth, M. Pierre De Noirville, who has pcsnnJtaion to shoot in the park. He lives amr Lara with his mother and elder brother.

WJien .be buutftt he always comes here for his .jhincli." iSunano replied to his profound bow by a low words and hastened her owu lunch, that jhe might have his, an alio had no mind to sit sot table with Him, although he was very tiand'jamo, with something foreign in the pecu'ii.:r shai of Ids eyes and his coraploxion. ..Ho loniiod more lie an Oriental than French.

Sur^auio chained hcroolf and returned to "hear work, tolling the keeper's wife to have Iter hoivo ready in an hour.

When rfho went out Pierre followed her Tvitli Us eyes, anil he plied the good natured Catharine with questions as to the beautiful young Miss Forney, who did not act sc frightanod a* do all young French girl^t when lhoy happon to meet a young man. He admired hor street but sober dignity and her .o.vidact self possession, and in fact bo waxed .oxoeedingiy enthusiastic. Pierre lingerec

Vong ovor his omelet and fresh bread, ooffet and cream cheese, in hopes of seeing the young lady again, but at last with a heavy aigh took his departure.

Suzanne worked until she had finished what -she wwliod to do and th*n retaurn«d to th« ©ottago, and giving Catharine her implement! and half finished sketch Baid: "i shall kere early to-morrow morning, and try tc finish it," and then she rode off rapidly. A1 tho moment she was about to leave the parb she made a gesture of vexation and annoynnceas she saw Pierre De Noirville standing immovable as statue and gating at her with v«arnost admiration.

Then Pierre, angry with himself, turned rtbrupUy and shamefacedly toward his home, the Moridon form, whioh was to be seen from Abe gate of the park.

Meridon farm was situated at about six miles from the White House and consisted of 300 or 300 acres, through which ran the Yvotto river, and here lived Julia D# Noirville with her two sons, Raymond and Pierro. "jThii ffirm was all that they had to depend wpon, for Lucien's duath left thorn but illy provided for, until Lucien's uncle had died, -bequeathing this property to the two la-others. Pierre managed the farm while

Raymond was preparing himself for tho law .In Paris. Julia had greatly changed during these ten years which followed the condemnation for Hie to the man she loved and the death of her husband. Remorso had aged her, and, although she was but 43, she was bent and withered and bad the appearance of an old mmnw Thwe was not a day passed nor a might in which she did not seem to see two phantoms— the one whom she had sent to a poisou and death, the other her good and genJOS husband, dead in his friend's defense. fibr life since theu had been one poignant regret. Had it not been for her two sons she —niH certainly have divulged her put in Shin horrible crime but to clear Roger's name she must blight UMBO of her two sons. And she thought Roger was dead, as he was swportad to have been killed in an attempt at caoapo.

Raymond was 28 yean old and Pierre M. Raymond was small, pale and of nervous temperament, with his father^ soulful eyes while Pierre was large, robust and dark. Bo'o were handsome.

Though living in Paris Raymond oame often to the farm, always Sundays, and at often as his duties and studies permitted him •during the week.

The two brothers loved their mother ten--«ferly, and respected her habitual sadness as ftfce natural result of the loss of her husband ia so tragic a manner. They believed that die couid never be consoled for that breaveraent.

That evening Raymond returned from Paris, and seeing the game bag he remarked Pierre: "If it is pleasant to-morrow I will hunt with yrxx."

Pierre lid not answer. If Raymond had noticed his brother's face then he would have aeon a look of annoyance pas* over it

Tho next morning the sun shone bright and the two brothers went oat with their guns, and for a loug time kept together, as they had feat one do£, but r.t last Raymond found hint* .•elf alone, and as be was a little tired be d* dded to goon to tve keeper's cottage and wait there fc Pierns, who would be sure to oooM there to:* his lunch. But as be passed along by the raiiw be noticed outlined against the sky the figure of a beautiful young girl Handing on a wall, which was *o old that it •ras a wonder it had stood so long.

He was so surprised by this unexpected -riskm that be forgot where he was or that he held a gun in Ids hand, when the dog saw a phmsanl and made a movement which threw Che bntt of Raymood^gnn backward against a tms there was a" sharp report, followed toy a rushing, crumbling noise and a woman* piercing cry for help,

The young girt on the wall had sprang as he unexpected shot bad rwwonded, and this movement started the inweore wall, which crumbled beneath her feet and sbf fell with

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and among the stores some twenty feefc She screamed again as she fell, and Raymond also heard another cry, that of Pierre. He was too far away himself to receive any injury, and very pale be was as he rushed forward, but met Pierre with a deathly white face as they both reached the inanimate body of the young stranger lying among the stones and dust at the same time. "Deadl" said Pierre, wildly "dead!" "Who is she, do you knowP '.u "I saw her yesterday for the first time."

Suzanne lay upon ho* back, her arms stretched out and a thin stream of blood trickled down her pale face from a deep wound in hor forehead. Pierre took her in his strong arms and carried her to the fountain of St. Thebault There he laid her, with her head upon a mossy bank, while Raymond wet his handkerchief and made a compress, laying it over the bleeding wound, which was deep and severe. Then he bathed her hand?, her face and eyes. "How beautiful she is!" said Raymond.

Pierre took her in hit ttrong arms, -v In spite of all the efforts ot the two brothers, Suzanne did not regain consciousness, and they looked at each othor in despair. "Wo must get help," said Raymond. "She will bleed to death. Go bring Catharine and tell her husband to bring the carriole."

At last Suzanne opened ber eyes, though the pain in her bead was so- great that she oould scarcely see anything. She tried to rise but sank back again. Then Raymond timidly spoke, telling her that she had had an accident and must keep still, that help would soon come. Then he brought water in bis hunting cup and wet her handkerchief and placed that also upon her head. While he was occupied with ber she noticed between hor eyolids bis flue und delicate face, his large, honest eyes, and she felt herself perfectly at ease with him, which she haul not done with Pierre. "You are very kind, sir," said she "please toll me your name, so that my father can thank you." "My name is Raymond De Noirville, but I have done nothing to be thanked for."

Suddenly Suzanne grew palo again and lost consciousness. At this moment Catharine and Pierre came, and in a few minutes the carriole arrived. Thoy mado all haste to get hor to the cottaga, whero thoy placed her iu bed and brought a doctor, "who declared that though the wound was grave and sho had lost much blood, sho would be all right in a fortnight, but that she would probably havo a fever.

Raymond and Pierro were both anxious, but dared not go to inquire about her, so eaeh iu turn, a::d unknown to the other, besought Catharine to ride over to the White Houao ami find out how tho young lady was. Catharine said: "In whose narao shall I inquire? Yours or your mother's!" "My mother's, of course," each answered. "All," thought Catliarine, "this is not a good outlook. Both brothers ai-o certainly head over heels iu love with that young American. It is a sorry day when brothers become rivals."

Catharine had presented herself as coming from Mme. Do Noirville, which, under the circumstances, mado it incumbent upon Roger to go to Meridon farm to thank Mme. Do Noirville for the care her sons had given his daughter,*and he wished also to satisfy himself as to the question of their identity.

Ho put off the evil day as long as ha possibly could, fearing that his suspicions would take form and Mmo. De Noirville prove to be Julia, and be dreaded any possibility that cither of the young men might touch the heart of Suzanne.

She had now been up and about several days, and even began to take her customary rides, and bad already made two or three discreet allusions to the duty ho owed his neighbors of Meridon farm. Laroque understood that the moment had come, and he must accede to the demands of etiquette, and also to discover if his fears were justified or not They drove over to the farm and were shown in, when Raymond and Pierre received them with effusion. Pierre then went for his mother and she came in, dressed in the deepest mourning. Pale, aged and bowed and with her once raven tresses almost white, yet Roger knew ber instantly, but her great dark eyes were raised to his face without recognition of him. Nothing bad told her who stood before ber. As to him, he contained bis emotion with the most painful effort, and he half looked to see Lucien appear. "Madame." said the poor man, "your sons have doubtless tokl you of the accident which happened to my daughter, and I was anxious to them for their care of her, without which most probably she would have died there alone." "Toe exaggerate the little service we could render ber, sir," replied Raymond.

Pierre was slow of speech at all times, and now he could do nothing bat devour Suzanne with his eyes.

As Roger spoke Julia shrank down In ber chair, and there was on ber countenance a visible expresrion of fear, which, however, none remarked. Though she had no idea of Roger's identity the sound of that votes had never changed, and ta wandered to the days when Rogv.- taill alive. His eye* were upon Luc leu. As be ceased to speak she listened still and sho looked at him with a searching glance. Bat though it was Roger's voice she was positive that the man before her was net Roger.

Presently Raymond proposed that they should walk in the garden, down through the avenue of chestnut trees. Suxanne and the two young men walked on a trifle in advance of the parents, and they both began to talk of their children, and Roger soon divined that Julia loved Raymond with a tender, more absorbing knvc than she gave to her eldest bora. Pierre knew this, and though it saddened him somewhat, he had too noble a character to resent it or fed jealous. Raymond did not know there was a difference, and be almost idolised his brother.

Soon after tetifer and daughter took their departure. Julia watched her two eoes as the visitors drove away, and both gave a heavy sigh as tho carriage disappeared, and both appeared cast down and melancholy. "Are they both smitten with the beanty and grace of this young girll If ao, woe Is BM^*

CHAPTER XO.

From that time on Suzanne seldom went out on horseback or in ber phaeton that she did not meet Raymond, as if byaccident, but they did no more than speak, but after he had seen her he returned to the farm with heart elata

Both brothers had fallen victims to Suzanne's bright and rare beauty and noble character, but they made no confidence of their feelings to each other. The brothers even seemed to avoid each other each sought solitude and each thought his secret hidden from all eyes. But Pierre had to look after the/arm and command the laborers, so that he

«mnil

He thought to himself: "Some day she will change ber mind and I shall be forgotten. Let her belong to me, then, as long as she is concent."

But now Suzaune let her horse walk along the shady paths where tho rich branches hung heavy with sparkling dewdrops, and she whispered: "I wonder if I shall see him to-day?" And when sho saw him coming along, his guu swung over his shoulder, sho felt like flying from tho spot, but he looked so anxious,, so sad, and theu when be jaw her so glad, that she did not go. Then they approached and said good morning, with very few and simple words more, and euch went ulong their different paths, both happier for the meeting.

One duy Suzanne was seated in a mossy dell in one part of their park with her portfolio and colore, tryiug to catch the suiv beams and make them shine through her painted tress, but it was warm and the drowsy souiul of the little brook at her feet made her sleepy, and resting liar head upon a moss covered root sho fell asleep, nor woke until she fuifc a soft, sweet and chaste kiss fall upon her forehead. With a strange prescience she knew whose lipe bad pressed it there, and sho, from pure maidenly shame and delicacy, inauaged to keep her eyes closed that he might buppose that sho knew nothing. Then Raymond murmured:

All that day she battled with her heart, and poor child, when its own pain had deadened her other senses, she thought sho had won. *v-"

Sho crept into tho house and n? to her room unobserved, and when her father came to see why she did not come down to dinner that woman's blessed boou in the way of excuse, a headache, pleaded for her.

The next day Mme. De Noirville came tc see them just as they bad return&l from a drive. Julia hod come with the intention o: pleading Raymond's cause in his demand for the hand of Mile. Forney. Raymond had driven ber over, but had not attempted to enter the house but as M. Forney stepped forward to i*eceive Mme. Do Noirville, Raymond sprang to the side of Suzaune, who received him with a coldness so marked that he drew back in alarm. His eyes questioned her iu vain for the cause of this sudden change. He thought: "She must have awakened and resented such a liberty. What shall I doP "Oh, mademoiselle, pardon me, I implore." "In what have you offended that you ask my pardon?" said she, more coldly and haughtily, if possible, than before. "I thought—I feared—that I was unhappy enough to have in some way vexed you." "You are mistaken," said she, bowing, and leaving him speechless.

Raymond managed to make a sign to his mother, begging her to say nothing to M. Forney on the subject so near his heart, and their conversation was therefore on ordinary topics, and they soon took their leave.

It would be too much to say that Suzanne regretted ber severity, but it is very sure that her heart ached heavily all the time, and she lost color and spirit, ao much so as to seriously disquiet ber father, who feared that she was ill, but she declared herself perfectly well.

Well, do you feel contented here? Would you like to go away, to Paris or any other place? You havo only to say what you wish, you know, my child, to find me willing." "I am perfectly happy here, father," she replied, "and I like this quiet, peaceful existence far better than I would a gayer place. So my no more, I pray yon."

The real reason that die did not wish to leave ber present home for Paris was that she knew that Raymond's vacation ended very soon, and that he then would be near ber there, following her at every torn, and here she would be free,

Summer passed all too swiftly, and autumn came with its gorgeous beanty of coloring and its wealth of harvest, and October bad nearly gona Already the nights were cold and frosty, though the days were bright and sunny, and Suzanne wandered about their park and even into the forest beyond, as if she hunted ber lost peace of mind. Heryoung heart was heavy with unshed tears, but though she knew die loved Raymond, she had been through such awfnl and strange experiences that she was matured far beyond ber age, and ber reason and knowledge of the past taught ber that love or marriage with an honorable man with an untarnished name was not for ber that fate had ordered that her life should be paMed alone.

One day as she sat on a fallen tree absorbed these tboaghts, ber tears fell unheeded upon ber cheeks for ber withered youth and lonely future which a father's love coukl now never fill, and she thought she heard step behind her.

She knew eo wdB who was there that she did not even tarn ber bead, but by a supreme effort of will conquered her agitation and ber face wore a mask of scorn and haughty disdain as Raymond came in front of ber, and joining his hands exclaimed: ^oxanne, Sosanne, have pity on meP "YOB can have nothing to say to me that I wish to hear. I bee, therefore, you will permitjpe %£pMk*

TERKE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MATT*

chance of meeting the object of

hia dreams, while Raymond would take his gun for countenance and linger about places where he hoped she might pass.

In France no visits are permitted to youug men at the house of any young lady, unless after a formal ergagement of marriage, und then only under such conditions as must be very exasperating to both so neither Pierre nor Raymond could go to see Suzanne at ber home, not even accompanied by their mother.

The image of the two brothers had certainly taken a little place in the existence of Suzanne in spite of herself. Before she knew them her thoughts wore bounded by her home, her art and Ler fat'uor. Sho knew that sho was pretty and that men admired her, but sho had always shrunk from any expressed admiration with a horror unfeigned. Marriage was not for her. Two or three times before this her band had been asked of her father, but when he referred the question to hit* sho refused so determinedly that he was fain to decline, particularly, as she said: "I do not wish to leave you, nor ever love anybody but you as long as I live."

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"Alas, Suzanne, I love you so," and he WSB gone. Then sh» arose, ber whole face covered with one burning blush, and her whole beiag filled with a wondrousiy sweet happiness,, and for a while, in this delicious awakening ot a pure maiden's love, sho forgot. Then, aud denly a vision roso before her, und she whose whole beautiful face but a moment before was eloquent with love, grew pole uud drawn with hoi Tor. "What have I dono! Oh, my God, what have I douoi I havo let him love me I love him. For one little minute I forgot that love and marriage are not for mo!"

"No this life is intolerable! You treat me as if I •were the veriest wretch on earth. It is not so that an honest man's love should be trampled upon." "1 do not know what you refer to. I simply find your attentions distasteful, and I wish to make you so understand. As you seem to be unable to understand actions I am obliged to tell you so"

She wished to pass him, but he stepped in front of her, saying: "You shall not go until you have beard me." "Your action makes me but the more positive that I havo done right in refusing to speak to you. Since you threaten me, I regard you as a coward." "So bp it I am a coward."

She recoiled a little before Raymond, who seemed no longer to be able to control himself. But behind her was the ravine, with its abrupt and stony bank, so that sho could not escape liim that way without danger, and sho turnod to him, saying angrily: "If you nuiko one step toward me I shall throw myself down." "Suzanne, I pity you." _/ "Mel You pity me?" "Yes, for you nxust love me well to treat me in this manner. You must have some reason why you do not want—not dare accept my love, and thus try to hide your own. I feel now what I have never dared hope— you do love me." "YoU are utterly mistaken I do not love you. I never did, uever shall, and your love is an offense to me." "Suzanne! jou are very hard, very cruel. Listen. Impose upon me any condition you think necoessary. However bard it may be I

"Then there remains but one thing for me, and that is death. I cannot live without hope, without your love. Adieu, Suzanne. May you be happy."

And the young man, in a half demented condition, turned the muzzle of his gun and placed it against his heart, both barrels loaded, and before Suzanne could speak raised his boot tostrike the triggers. Suzanne sprang forward involuntarily and caught the muzzle, turning: it slightly, so- that the two charges whizzed by her head and the powder burned her dress.

Her heart melted. One seooad more and be would have been lying a corpse at ber feet, and, forgetting all that had seemed to ber such potent reasoning, she sank to her former seat, powerless and faint. frp Bg coyTtmrgp.T

'-.A TIMELY LESSON,

One fine morning in early summer Miss Maud—whose surname was Satterlee—entered ber studio with a slight shadow on her high bred, rose fair face. Her companion, a charming brunette girl a kittle her senior, followed, looking amused. Miss Fortescue was happy compromise between chuperom and confidant*. She was a girl of excellent sense and judgment und brimful ot huiuor. which was fortunate, for Maud hud only father, who wa» iu Europe,and au aunt., win. wus splenetic. "My dear Maud," said Miss Fortescue, re proaclifully, yet half luighiug, "you know very well I'll go out und bunt you up a model if you wish it."

Miss Maud brightelied. "1 wish you wouid, Carrie. I'm just in splendid mood to liegin a |Krtruit Get

uir

something rugged, uncouth, if you like." She totted herself down on the studio sot it and looked iuquiringly at her coinpuniou.

Miss Fortescue reflected. "There's the IHUIUIIH man—the Italiandown on the street comer" "Ob, 1 don't waul him," said Muud, con tomptuously.

Just then a tap at tho door. It was Harry McAllister. After the usual polite "good morning" he requested permission to bring in a friend to see Miss Satterlce's handsome "den" and examples. "A friend from my old home iu Tennessee," he exclaimed, "going to spend the summer it, towu. A little provincial, you know, but of good family."

Maud assented languidly. But when the young stranger entered with McAllister site sat up suddenly like one revived.

Mr. Godfrey Waring was large and tall. He was sunburned and had lougish, light brown hair and pale blue eyes. A nose of good size and a long, clean shaven upper lip were facial peculiarities. And Mr. Godfrey Waring was blessed with an abundance of confidence. He gazed about him with a smile of approval, shook bands twice with the ladies, commented in a clear, high, uasaj voice on Maud's work, and finally departed in a state of self complacency. "Fine girls," he remarked to McAllister, when back in that gentleman's sanctum. "Ehr queried McAllister, a little startled at the irreverence. "I say they're fine girls. She's an heiress, ain't she? Think I made an impression on berr

McAllister gasped. Then bis sense of the humorous prevailed. He answered dryly: "Ahem! I shouldn't wonder. Miss Satterlee had ber eyes on you all the time." "Wouldn't mind having her if my family didn't object," remarked Godfrey, with a reOective little click of the tongue against his teeth.

As for the young ladies, they had preserved silence until their callers were out of hearing range.

Then Miss Satterlee exclaimed: "Kn—, eu—, what's that word, Carrie, beginning with a enf "Euchre, euphony, European, edpepsy" "Nonsense I 1 mean Eureka, have got a model." "You mean the Tennesseoan, mydearr "Yes. I could sketch him already. Take his face just as it is crown it with a ragged straw hat put a flannei shirt on him opening carelessly from the neck plenty of red and tan." -But bow will yon get him to sitf *Qh, Mr. McAllister will manage it all for me."

ANRI gore enough Mr. McAllister did. That is to say, be brought Mr. Waring frequently to Miss Satterlee's studio, and the young artiste began to surreptitiously appropriate the features of the Tennessecan—as best she could from recollection after be departed on occasion.

Meantime Godfrey began to look very self mtfefiedand to throw out certain little hints about the conquest of an beireas, and such a talented one at that

McAllister took his cue thereat and drew a serious face. "Yes," be said with great gravity, "there* no denying it, Gof, old fellow. Yoo are fine headway. Baft whs* about

certain little girl down home that yon were telling me of?" Godfrey replied in a practical tone. He was sorry, but he could break off the affair with Mabel. Poor Mabel, alas! whose voluminous correspondence was no longer carried about next his heart Poor Mabel, who crossed and recrossed her foolscap in flowing schoolgirl hand to such little purpose.

At length the acquaintance had gone on so pleasantly that Miss Satterlee thought she might venture to ask the youug man to sit for her. "I can work in the costume afterward, you know," she said to Miss Fortescue.

So when Mr. Godfrey called agaih the following morning at the studio Miss Fortescue stepped back into the little adjoining room according to a previous agreement with Maud. And Maud—her easel being carefully covered-—sat back in her chair, and with most charming naivete began to speak us follows:

UI

hope yon are not very hard hearted, Mr. Waring, because I have a confession to make." She cast down her beautiful eyes &ud lovely smile played about her beautiful lips. "1 hope you will consent to pardon me," she said. "There isn't anything I wouldn't pardon in you," said Godfrey, impressively.

Miss Satterlee fancied she heard a subdued merriment in the room adjoining. Could Miss Fortescue be undignified enough to E»KSlo»

Then Maud went on:

JWoil,

fm

Tt was all McAllister's fault In his extreme anxiety toserve Uaud he had neglected consider Godfrey's interests.

Maud was a youug lady whom he worshiped rather humbly from afar—she being rich, beautiful ami of a formidably aristocratic family, whale he was a lon»» Bohemian— but with whom he could claim artistic kinship, since he and she hud studied in the sunt* building. She ww an amateur, it happened, mid lieu breadwinner they both manured to turn out some very good work, and waeh was often of assistance to the other.

t. 4

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theu, would you bo very much of­

fended if I should ask you to—to permit me to make a sketch of your face? You know we art students are coustantly on the watch for countenances that' are not insipid and common. A face indicative of strength of character and—and ambition—is not common."

Godfrey began to smile and look conscious. "You don't know how complimented I'd feel," be said. "Oh, I'm so glad. Will you sit for me today* To tell you the troth, I've begun alraidy but, of course, it don't resemble you a bit as yet" And she uncovered the canvas. And Godfrey posed for ut hour to the great *&ti.sfaction of both.

Mter that he sat every morning nearly for a week or more. Mr. McAllister was amused) to discover that the Teunesueean was quite in, earnest hi his ideu of laying siege to the uiliste's heart and gave op trying to impress upon him the absurdity of his aspiratious. Godfrey evideutly Itelieved himself irresistible.

MiMt Fortescue was always preseut at the sittings, but sometimes found it necessary to retire to the adjoining room to repress her laughter, the model's ingenuous remarks were

SO

highly amusing. Occasionally she gave Maud soiuo advice, as follows: "If he liecomes too talkative, my #nr, you must snub iiiwt Suub hiiu gorgeously, you know." jjrae *l$i -W font I can't understand," said Godfrey ou« morning, "is how you can paint so well. I £U*3*yoii uin't more than SJ0, u« you?" "Not much more," suUl Maud. "Then I guess I'll bo alirfMit twu years vlfW itoLU you in September.* nk

Maud—liuihwU

Godfrey—A I act. Aland—VWII, that's a hkm :^e. I Kt.|paxe you'll go into lupines* and succeed tliirlj. tfudrrey—Own fault ii 1 don't (Clicking ufc uttgi\o on his tHjfch.) Uuesa I've go* money enough to back tue.

Maul—Yes? There, h-»v. am 1 siting on with the picture? Godfrey—Well, 1 I'd be lucky to get as good a oue ugaiu. What do you mean to do with it uny wuy?

Muud—Do you witth ill, ph~ah^•—*hy»*0ti.ibil it, perhaps. :,y Godfrey—You wouldn't sell it, 1' suppose— to me?

Maud (slowly)—Well, frankly, I would rather kx*i It myself. Godfrey (sudd»»dy--1 wish I had ono of joul

Maud (raising ber voice)—Carrie, please come and criticise. Godfrey was certainly very determined. When the sittings w»*re over he requested permission to call at Miss (Sutterlee's UuidC. Maud wus very pleasant. "To calif" she repoated, smilingly.

aIleally.

I should like to u-sk J'ou, but., you see, tlihouse is closed, ts wo go to tho seaside Very soon. Our recaptions ure over lor the reason."

Godfrey bore his disappointment liko hero. Had she not painted his portrait and refused to sell it—oven t. Itini" "My dear," said Miss Fortescue, "I'm afraid your beautiful eyes have worked mischief 10 that susceptible young southerner." "You think so? Dear me, I'd bo sorry for him. But he'd Milter in a noble cause—the cause of urt"

Godfrey continued to call at tho studio. "I'll huve to lock tho door," said Maud, "or I'll never havo a chance to woi up the costume. I must finish it this week. Aunt Sarah is complaining becauso I don't arrange about my wardrobe." "You'll never want any wardrobe," replied Miss Fortescue, "if you close tho door such weather as this. You'll melt or stifle iu short order." "Then I'll risk his coming and leave it open." And she did.

When the young ladies arrived at the studio quite early, one or two mornings later, Miss Satterlee found a letter awaiting ber. She sat down to read it, and was so long at the task that Miss Fortescue began to wonder and inquired as to the artiste's perplexity. "It's a proposal I'm considering," replied Maud. 'Indeed! That's diversion. How funny the portrait looks. Ah, it he should see itl"

Maud frowned. "I'd like to burn the old thing!" "But you couldn't, my love there's no lire, thank fortune!" "Listen to this impudence

I" cried Maud, and

Ixrgan to read aloud: 'MV D&AR MISS MAUD—Though I have known you so short a time, 1 do not believe you will be wholly surprised to learn that I have cwne to regard you as mere than a frieod. In fact 1 have grown to care for you more I ever cared for any girl. I aluiud believe can never bo happy without you. 1 know you know that I am a gentleman 1 even think you like me a little and will soon like me more. Icon offer you a name upon whose honor no stain has ever fallen. UI coarse we are both too young for an immediate marriage, but 1 hope that some day we may become all in all to each other, will call to see you this afternoon at 2, and bopr. for an answer which will make MMI Iwppy. Till theu uud always Your own -Gonr RET.' 'My dear MfanMaua, your own Godfrey,'" repeated Mi» Fortescue. "Ah, my cbildr did 1 not warn thee? Well, what to dor covered the portrait with an impetuous movement. "Fll give the presumptuous youth a little lesson," die answered. "Mr. McAllister says be has an exalted idea of bis powers: that he's been virtually engaged to a little girl down at his home for some time past"

As 3 o'clock approached Mr. Godfrey's heart beat with' confident exhilaration. He meant to show bis friend McAllister a thing or two. McAllister bad undertaken to remind him of Mabel Clare. He tossed his bead as be remembered this. "I gueas there aint ixnny girls but would bo glad of a chance at me," to said, as he set out for Mi* Satterlee^

studio. He expected that Maud would be shy at first But gradually she would come around. He purchased a large buncli of roses as he proceeded on his way.

Maud was alone—apparently. She smiled! and took tho roses with many thanks. "Pray sit down," she said., "You loobquite warm." .•

Mr. Godfrey drew up a chair. _. "You received my note?" *t "Your note? Oh, yes, of course." "And what did you think of the idea?" he queried, with delightful self complacency. "What did I think? Why, of course,

I-

thought you meant it us a joke. Pin sure I hope you did, because you know, or rather you ought to know, though, perhaps, you don't know, and I'm sure I'd feel dreadful it, I thought you'd been led to suppose—the truth is, Mr. Waring, I'm engaged—to a gentleman who is now in Europe I"

Godfrey turned pale. "Engaged I" he cried, tragically. "Why, for that matter, so am I. But I'd break any engagement for you!" '£4

Maud aroso, looking very grave.

4

"I am sorry to hear you say so. I have heard so much about southern honor." "But you won't decide at once," ho stam-w mered. "Promise me to think it over."

Miss Maud regarded him coldly.

"You must have misunderstood me. There is nothing further to be said, und—will you please excuse me?" She turned toward the othtr room, and Godfrey had no choice but to leave. He was in such a state of mind between disappointment and chagrin that he left his hat upon the sofa and went bareheaded all the way down to the street.

Ho had gone half a block when he discovered why people were staring at him. Thencould he go back? Oh, 110I And yet the hat was new, and Godfrey was just a littlo close about unnecessary expense. He therefore returned and climbed the Ftuirs softly, hoping she might still be in the inner room and would not hear him enter.

An Important Klemeuf

4

But as be reached the threshold of the1' studio he was greeted with au astonishing sight. Not only Maud, but also- Miss'Fortescue had emerged from the inner room they apparently were taking great pleasure ill re-, garding a picture upou the easel, which had bpen moved from its customary position. They stood with their backs to the door. "An excellent likeness," said Miss Fortes* cue, and the two youug ludiea laughed heartily. "I might pity him," said Maad, "if he weren't so capable of pitying—iu\ udoriug himself."

Just then they moved a little, and Godfrey caught a glimpse of bis owu portrait, ragged, hatted, flannel garmented—plainly utmost a c.-nricatui-e.

For a moment he was fairly stunned then, turning, he fltnl, hatless as beforo and choking with gasps of rage and mortification, to the street. He ran thus for several blocks. i*jfore IIH thought of a hatter.

He kept out of McAllister's sight that evening and for several days after. Hut gradually he came to himself and wrote to ihu long ue». gl-icted

Mabtll—July Curry Tyu«r in New

York Mercury*

1

Of tho success of Hood's Baraparllla Is the fact that every purchaser receives a fair equivalent for his money. The familiar headline "100 Doses One Dollar," stolen byt. Imitators, is original with and true only of' Hood's Harsaparilla. This can easily be proven by any one who desires to test tho matter. For real economy, buy 01" Sarsnpnrllla. Hold by all druggists.

Scratched 28 Years.'

if

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If I hod known of Cutlcura Remedim twenty-eight years ago It would have saved me &00 (two hundred dollars) and an lmmense amount of suffering, MV disease (Phoriasis) commenced on my head in a spot not larger than a cent. It spread rapidly all over my body and got under my nails. The scales would dropoff of me all the time, and my suffering was endless, and without relief. Une thousand dollars would not tempt me to have this disease over again. 1 am a poor man, but feel rich to tie re ievtadof whatsomo of the doctors said was leprosy, some ringworm, psoriasis, etc. I took and Harsaparilla over one year and a half, but no cure. I cannot praise the Cutlcura Remedies too much. They have made my skin aft. clear and free from scales as a baby's. All used of them was three bottles of Cutlcura, three bottles of Cutlcura Resolvent and two cukes ot Cutlcura Soap. If you had been here and said that you would nave cured me' for 8200 you would have had the money. T' looked like the picture in your book ot Psoriasis [picture number two, "How to Cure Hkin Diseases"], but now am as clear as any person ever was. Through force of habit I rubbed my hands over arms and legs to scratch once in a while, but to no purpose. scratched twenty-eight years, and It got to bo kind of a second nature to me. 1 thank you a thousand times. Anything more that you want to know write me, or anyone who reads this may write to me and I will answer it.

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Waterbury, Vt., Jan. 20th, 1887. ...

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k*