Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 35, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 February 1889 — Page 2

«r

BO

I divined hor trouble Immediately. "You think that he had her in view when he asked us to make Mr. Mortlf ck welcome in our home." "It is my fear," said my wife.

I reflected. The suggestion had nevei oocurred to me, but with every passing moment of time it gathered weight now that my wife had mentioned it. "It is possible," I said, gloomily. "It is more than possible, Richard it if probable, and Mr. Mortlock's behavioi •eema to favor it." "Supposing that to have been my uncle'® intention," I said, "you think that Mr. Mortlock must be aware of it?" "I think so, Richard." "But would not my uncle have mentioned it in his first letter to mef" I asked, casting about for an escape. "Scarcely. He would say to himself, 'Let the young people meet and know each other. If they are mutually attracted, everything shall be arranged when I reach home.'" "But they are not mutually attracted," I said fretfully. "There has been nothing but discomfort for some weeks past. I wish Mr. Mortlock had never entered oui doors. It has been as much as I could do to prevent an open quarrel between him and Harry. Having been told of the engagement, having seen for himself how truly Eunice and Harry love each other, his conduct has been base—base and ungentlemanly. Eunice'* bearing towai€? him should surely have convinced him that he has no hope." "To persevere as he has persevered," said my wife, with somewhat more emphasis than it was her habit to import into her speech, "seems to me a proof that he places reliance upon some promise which Mr. Wilmot has made to hiin otherwise he would hardly have prolonged liU visit. It is ungracious to say so, but he Could not fail to see how unhappy he has made us and he would have bidden us farewell if there was not nomething behind of which we are ignorant, and for which we were not prepared. Richard, I have infected you with my apprehensions because it will be best for you, and for all of us, to be on our guard when Mr. Wilmot arrives. A little reflection beforehand often avert* calamity. Hasty words cannot be recalled, and they lead to anger and to ao lions which we afterwards deplore." "I will reflect well, my dear. Tell me plainly what you fear from Mr. Wilmot." "I fear he will advocate the cause of Mr. Mortlock." "As regards Eunice!"' I exclaimed, in amaxement. "Yes, Richard," replied my wife, sadly, "as regards our dear child." "But before he arrives," I said, "he will have read my letter announcing her engagement with Harry. Surely, In tht' face of that"—I paused, seeing, from the expression on my wife's face, that I was making no impression upon her. "I am 90 much impressed," she said, "by a certain phase in your uncle's character, which has been dwelt upon by Mr. Mortlock—I mean in regard, to his being selfwilled and obstinate when once he has made up his mind—that I cannot banish my fears. It is a painful subject. Richard do net let us dwell upon it any longer. Hope is left to us, aad we will cling to it."

This conversation made me moody and unhappy there were ao many contingen* «siee depending upon my uncle's whim. Not alone Eunice's happiness and her future, but the whole course of the life before me and mine hung upon his word.! Had I foreseen that the time might come whea should be thrown tip® my own resources, 1 might, out of Uc handsome income I had received from Mr. Wilmot* have put a little by every year, and so, to aome extent, have provided for adversity.

BY B. L. FARJEON.

Author of Great Porter Square," "Gnf,"

CHAPTER V.

There arrived another letter from Mr. Wilmot, conveying the welcome intelligence that he would b* with us In the course of the ensuing week. "Now," I said joyfully to my wife, "our troubles are coming to an end."

I expected that she won Id respond in

strongly to make a friend of Mr.

Mortlock*" "No," I replied. "I am glad to hear you say that but think. Bring our dear Eunice into the question."

Blades-o'-Grass,"

Hearts," Devlin the Barber/' Etc.

0

like manner, and it surprised me to see a grave look in her eyes. The dominant influence in a household often proceeds from the gentlest spirit therein. This was the case in our home, of which my dear wife was the sweet and peaceful ruler. To such an extent did this influence prevail that the sweet woman gave color sometimes even to our moods and Noughts. It was so now the grove look in 'Jiy wife's eyes was Instantly reflected iuto my own. "I am not one to meet troubles halfway," she said, in explanation, "but it is as well to be prepared." "Yes, my love," I said "what are you about to speak of?" "Of your uncle and Mr. Mortlock," replied my wife. "I should like to say wha is in my mind concerning them." "Speak freely," I said. "There hav never been any concealments between us and there should bo none now when happy event is approaching." "It has been in my mind for some little time past, but I was not sure, and, indeed am not sure now. Your uncle says nothing in either of his letters of Eunice's engagement-." "He cannot be aware of it. My lettei to him, written on the day the engagement was entered into, remains, I am afraid, unopened in his lawyer's office in London." "There appears to be a close intimacy between him and Mr. Mortlock." "Yes, my dear, and I am sorry to think so." "It would not surprise me to learn that it is an affectionate intimacy. His first letter and the terms in which Mr. Mortlock speaks of him are almost an assurance of this. Whether I am right or wrong in my surmise, your uncle certainly has a very high opinion of Mr. Mortlock." "Which now," I said, "is not shared by me." "Nor by me, I regret to say." I knew it pained her to make the admission if was a grief to her to think ill of any per son. "Does it occur to you, Richard, that your uncle had any special object in ask ing us

l^EHRB

The Nine of

***r

u-

But such a thought never crossed my mind and now that it was introduced, its effect upon me was terrible. I recognized how absolutely heipless I was to provide for those who had a claim upon me for support. I knew no trade or profession and could think of no means by which I could earn our daily bread. Thoughtlessly, I had spent regularly every shilling of my income, and was even in debt—not to any great extent, it is true, for three or four hundred pounds would have paid all I owed—but the position was sufficiently serious to cause me alarm. Mr. Mortlock presented himself to my imagination as an evil genius who had intruded himself upon us to work our ruin and when, in the course of the day, he came towards me, smiling and easy-mannered,

vr

fth pleasant

words dropping from his tongue, I thought of Lucifer with his fair outside and his malignant heart.

Minor incidents which occurred during this day passed lightly off, although on other occasions I should have deemed them of importance, and have estimated them aright. I had lately perceived signp of failing health in Samuel Fleetwood, and had advised him to consult a doctor. He simply smiled, and said that it would be useless as no doctors could do him good but as his bad symptoms continued, I desired our own physician to see and examine Fleetwood. The physician'* report was melancholy enough. He represented our faithful servaut's case to be hopeless, saying he had heart-disease, and could not live through the year. "Did you inform him of it?" I inquired. "It was scarcely necessary," replied the physician. "He has been for some time aware of his state, and he looks for ward to the end almost with cheerful ness."

It will be understood how deep would have been the impression produced upon me by this sad news had I not been so terribly harassed by my own special anxietied. I entertained the sincerest regard for Fleetwood I knew him to be loyal and true, staunch and devoted I knew that he was ready to make any sacrifice for me and mine but I will put no false gloss upon my feelings. So thoroughly engrossed was I by my own selfish fears, that I felt mere commonplace pity for the honest, devoted fellow, instead of the full-heart-ed sympathy which I should, under hap pier circumstances, have extended to wards him.

Before sundown Mdlle. Rosalie al»f played her yart In anticipation of my uncle's visit, and desiring that he should see Boscombe Lodge at its best, I had given instruction? to my gardener, which he said he could not carry out alone. I empowered him tc hire a man to assist him, and he told m* he had done so. I was satisfied to leave the matter to him he had been in my service several years, and had served m» welL All that I knew of the man he ha* engaged was his name—Redwing. Wher the gardener came to me on Saturday fo» wages, 1 asked how Redwing suited him. "O, pretty well, sir," was the reply: "h* isn't all he made himself out to be, but shall manage."

And my gardener being content, wt was I. At the beginning of the weelc, I myself saw Redwing for the first time. He dir not appear to be over-exerting himself and this, and the fact that he was a good looking fellow, comprised my observation of him.

I return now to the incident in which Mdlle. Rosalie played a part on the even ing of the day on which I received my uncle's second letter.

With my thoughts fixed upon the approaching crisis in my fate, I wandered from my house, scarcely heeding the direction in which I was walking. I wished to be alone to indulge in ray sad musings, which so occupied my mind that I must have walked for an hour before I knew where I was. The gathering gloom recalled me to myself, and, looking around, I saw that I was in Ivybush Lane. It dtd not and would not, have struck me that this was the place in which Samuel Fleetwood had informed me that Mdlle. Rosalie was in the habit of meeting some unknown man, had it not been that my eyes fell suddenly upon her. as I gazed around. She was standing at some little distance from me, and I must have come upon her and her companion unawares. For she was not alone a man was with her, whom I immediately recognixed to be Redwing. Moreover, she was in that man's embrace. His arm was round her, and he was kissing her lips at the moment of my approach. They saw me as I saw them, and they fell apart from each other. Without a word, I turned, and proceeded in the direction of my home.

Now at any other time I should have regarded this discovery as serious, and should not have allowed it to pass without asking Mdlle. Rosalie for an explanation: but I am constrained to confess that in my then mood I attached but small importance to it In what way did Mdlle Rosalie's love intrigues affect me, and why should I add those to my already overpowering anxieties That was the sense in which I viewed the adventure. But If I did not speak to Mdlle. Rosalie of the incident, she did not allow it to pass by in silence.

It was night. Harry Clanronald had taken his leave, and my wife and Eunice had retired to bed. Mr. Mortlock had also retired. As for Mdlle. Rosalie, she had not made her appearance in our family circle. The evening had not been a lively one, despite Mr. Mortlock's endeavors to promote pleasant conversation. Eunice and Harry sat together in a corner of the room, where they were partially screened from observation. Mr. Mortlock did not disturb them by word or movement, nor did I and my wife. I pretended to be interested in a book, the pages "Of which turned over with a painful consdonsnesr that I was enacting a hypocrite's part. It was left to my wife, wiser than I, to listen, with a semblance of politeness, to Mr. Mortlock's chatter. That he was quite his ease I set down to his maliciousness, for he could not but have observed that we were troubled.

My wife and I being In our bedroom, I said that 1 was not inclined for bed, and that I would take a stroll in the garden and smoke a cigar. There was nothing unusual in this 1 had often done the like. "Do not he long," said my wife, "and

do not worry yourself over what I said this morning. We shall soon know the worst and, after all, I may be mistaken." "What harasses me." I replied, "is, what we shall do if you are not mistaken, and il we fail to reconcile Mr. Wilmot to Eunice^ engagement. We shall be thrown upon the world absolutely beggared." "Even if it comes to that," said my sweet wife, "we must meet it bravely. There are worse misfortunes, Richard." "I cannot imagine them," I said, with an impatient frown. "Disgrace is worse," my wife said, pressing me to her heart. "Our good name will be left to us and Harry will be true to Eunice." "I doubt it," I said. "Richard!" cried my wife. "You aw wrong—you are wrong! Harry is the soul of faithfulness. It would break my heart if I thought otherwise! And Eunice—oar dear child—what would become of her!" "At all hazards," I said, scarcely conscious of the words I was uttering, "at all risks, her happiness must be insured. shall be—it shall be! I swear it!" "It will not." said my wife "Harry will be true to our dear child. Her sweet nature. our honored nam—" "Will count for very little," I interrupt ed, "in Mr. Clanronald's eyes without a proper dowry. I know the world. J**

It was an idle boast I knew but little of the world, and was ill able to cope with its difficulties. My wife made no further attempt to dispel my gloom, deeming it best—as it often is when a man is sorely wrought—to allow it to work its own cure. She bade me go and smoke my cigar, and banded me my cigar-case, which I should have forgotten in my perturbation. The case was one which she had presented to me in former years, aud on its cover was my monogram, "R. P.," lh raised letters of silver. "Before you go, Richard," she said, "I must say a word upon another matter. I will not detain yon a minute. It is about Mdlle. Rosalie."

I started at the name. The incident I had witnessed in Ivybush Lane recurred to me. "We must not do her an injustice," continued my wife. "She fears you do not regard her favorably, and has made a confession to me which has caused me to feel very grateful towards her. It concerns her and Mr. Mortlock. She told me this evening that she was convinced she had excited in you suspicions of her conduct respecting Mr. Mortlock." ,/JM "In what way?" I asked.

I made no comment on this revelation, which took me by surprise, and I left my house in a state of doubt respecting Mdlle. Rosalie. What right had I, with the conflicting evidence which had been presented to me, to judge and condemn her? There were secrets in her life which she had -not confided to us. But were there not secrets in most lives? Was there not a secret in mine? Had I not been living, as it were, under false pretences! Had I not practiced a certain deceit towards Mr. Clanronald, for which, if the worst happened, he might justly oondemn me? These reflections inclined me to mercy and gentleness in my opinion of Mdlle. Rosalie's doings and it was in this mood that I lit my cigar and strolled through the grounds, at sufficient distance from tny wife's bedroom, the windows of which looked out upon the garden, not to disturb her by my footsteps. On the floor above was situated the bedroom of Mdlle. Rosalie, the windows of which also looked out upon the garden.

CHAJPT* TL

The night was dark, and I heard ne sound but that of my footsteps on the gravelled paths. Gradually I became more oomposed the surrounding peace, the soft air, and the echo of my wife's words of comfort, had their soothing effect upon me. "Surely all will be well!" I thought "I am tormenting myself unnecessarily."

Suddenly I heard a sound that startled me: it was the sound of a woman sobbing a form glided from the shadows, and, falling at my feet, seised my hand, which became bedewed with tears. "Mademoiselle!" I cried.

For it was, Indeed. Mdlle. Rosalie who knelt at my feet, and was holding my hand to her lips.• "Pardon me,'v shfc sobbed—"O, pardon me!" "Rise, I beg of you, I said, much disturbed. "Why are you here? This is no place, and this is not the time, for us to be seen together." "We are alone, sir," she said, her sobs Continuing. "No one can see or hear us. Ah, sir, listen to me! As you hope for mercy yourself, grant to a despairing woman! As you hope for peace, bestow it upon mel" «r« I "I do not understand you," I said aad 1 should have had a heart of stone in my breast had I not been touched by her plaintive voice. "I will listen to you—yes. but I must insist upon your rising."

She obeyed me: but she trembled so she rose from the ground that she was compelled to cling to me for support

Now, mademoiselle," I said, "I will listen to what you have to say, if yon insist upon it" "It you speak so harshly," she murmured. "I shall die!" "I have no wish to speak harshly' to you," I said, in a more gentle tone. "But I have aright tc ask why you seek me at such an hour?" "To implore your forgiveness," she replied, "to recover my place in your esteem. To know that you have ceased to respect me. that you think lightly of me, is more than I can bear. Your good opinion, your good word, is mors precious to me life itself. Ah, sir] How shall I confess it' I have deceived yon!" "I know IVs I said.

illfc

HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING

7

"In this, Richard. Some time ago Bhe noticed that he was attracted to Eunice, and that his attentions were distasteful to our dear child. What did she do? She made endeavors to draw him away from her: and frequently, when Eunice and Harry were together, and she knew they did not wish to be disturbed, she took Mr. Mortlock in hand—it is her own phras Richard—and did her best to entertain him. Her liveliness and vivacity, when you met them—as she says you have done on several occasions—were all simulated in our dear Eunice's interests. I hardly know whether to approve or disapprove, but it was certainly most kind on her part to undertake a task so repugnant to her. It has saved Eunice a great deal of pain, and perhaps prevented an open quarrel between Harry and Mr. Mortlock. Poor Mdlle. Rosalie! Her lot cannot be a happy one she seems to have something Weighing on her mind which she dare not speak of. Were we free from anxiety ourselves, I should insist upon her confiding in me I might in some way be a help to her. 1 am sure we owe her much."

"You know it!" she echoed softly. "And yet you have spared mel And yet you have not driven me from your house!" "For that, mademoiselle," I said, "you may thank my wife and daughter, who have no suspicion that you are not what you represent yourself to be. You hold a place in their hearts which you have in some strange manner won. They have in variably spoken well of you: they have invariably defended you!" "Defended me!" she exclaimed, and now her voice expressed dignified remon strance. "From what—from whom? Who has dared to villify me—a defenceless woman, whose misfortunes entitle her to respect? Not you, sir—not you! Do not tell me that yon have done me such an injustice." "Mdlle. Rosalie," I said, somewhat confounded by the attitude she assumed, "I have learnt that concerning you which, I will not disguise from you, has instilled doubts into my mind: I have seen that which, you must yourself admit, could not but strengthen those doubts." "You saw me this afternoon," she murmured, "in a lonely spot, embracing a man." "A man," I added, "whois now working for me in a menial capacity "I deny it!" she exclaimed, with indignation. "No labor is menial which is honest. Is it not a proof how greatly you are prejudiced against me when you can commit yourself to such a statement—you, whom 1 venerate as the personification of truth and justice? Ah, sir, confess that you were wrong." "Yes," I said, abashed by the reproof, "I confess it—I was wrong. But neither you nor he can deny that he is in my employment under false colors." "I do deny it, for myself and him. He sought for honest labor, and obtained itv Is that a crime?" "No." "What else enn you briug against him? You have not spoken to him, have scarcely seen him aud yet you, the most just of men, would blast his character. It is not for you, living in the lap of luxury, with unlimited wealth at- your command, who have but to wish to have—it is not for you to know to what hard straits necessity drives a man. It is not possible that you should ever be driven as he and I have been driven, to seek, in a lonely lot and among straugers, for the simple necessaries of life. It is not possible that you should over feel the world's cruel injustice us we have felt it that you should have to bear the anguish and the sting of unmerited misfortune that the finger of shame and reproach should be pointed at you—a man unstained by crime or dishonor! You stand above all this. Be merciful, be charitable, to those who are not as you are."

Had a vision of the future risen before me at that moment I should have stood appalled. As it was, I was powerfully affected by the appeal, and all my doubts of her seemed1 to melt away. "Mademoiselle," I said, "you have, perhaps, reproved me with just cause. But hod I known that you had a lover—" "A lover!" she exclaimed, scrftly. "Who dare say that?" "A lover," I continued, "whom for months you have met in secret—" "It is false!" she cried. "As I am an honest woman, it is false! Cruel, cruel, that I should be so misjudged! There is but one man iu the world whom 1 love, to whom my heart is given, for whom I would bear any hardship and sacrifice and to him I dare not, I dare not confess my love."

Again she seized my hand, and in fit of uncontrollable agitation pressed it to her bosom, to her lips. And then it was that I noticed, for the first time, that she was but loosely attired in her dressinggown, which she must have hastily thrown on, I supposed, when she saw me from her bedroom window and hastened out to make her confession.

As she held my band to her lips she was seized with sudden faintness, and would have fallen to the ground had 1 not supported her in my arms.

What was it that glided past us? A shadow, or the form of a man, who, with his eyes turned upon us for one brief moment, sped swiftly on, and was gone! "What was that?" asked Mdlle. Rosalie, in a whisper, clinging closer to jme in affright "I do not know," I answered, in the same key: and truly I did not. It was like a spiritual beguilement. "It must have been fancy," said Mdlle. Rosalie. "A shadow—an apparition! Yes, yes—see!"

A slight wind had risen, and the branches of the tress, gently swaying, cast shadows around, which a heated imagination could easily have transformed into the shapes and forms of living creatures. I breathed more freely what I had seen could have been nothing but a freak of fancy. "It is time that we should part, mademoiselle," I said, coldly. "It would have been better had you spoken to me in daylight" "I should not have had tne courage," she said. "You must not leave me till you hear who this man is who is falsely represented as my lover. I feel that you are not alone in this belief 1 feel that another shares it" "Yes," I said, thinking of Samuel Fleetwood, "my belief is shared by another." "Will you tell me who that other is?" "No I do not think I have the right.". "At least, sir," she pleaded mournfully, "you will tell me whether it is a man or a woman who traduces me?"

I did not wish her to believe that it was my wife or Eunice, and therefore I replied, "I will tell you so much, aud no more it was a man." "Will you see this man again, sir?" "I shall see him, almost to a certainty, to-morrow." "Tell him, then, sir, from me, that the person he suspects is my lover, and whom you saw me embracing this afternoon, is my brother." "Your brother! It is a simple, natural explanation but what reason was there for secrecy, for concealment?" "I was fearful of giving yon grounds to suppose that I had deceived you, sir. I did deceive you, but it was an unconscious, an innocent deceit When you first received me in your house I said I was an orphan, without a relative in the world. Indeed, indeed, sir, I believed that to be the unhappy truth. My parents were dead, and the only brother I had was killed

00

the ramparts when the Germans besieged Paris. He was but a lad at the time, and when they told me he was dead 1 had no reason to doubt them. But instead of having beeft killed, he was only wounded and taken prisoner and when he was released he went to America, intending to make his fortune there, and return and throw it in my lap. He wrote to me, but I did not receive his letters. In America he was unfortunate. Trustful by nature, he was robbed and deceived and,

^"-r ••?••.

MATT.

The window of my wife's bedroom was thrown open, and, by the aid of the light within the chamber, I saw the figure of my wife, clad in white* looking out upon the grounds. I hod been absent longer than she expected, and she was anxious abont me. "Richard!" she softly called: her voice waa low and sweet, and fell distinctly upon my ears. "Hush!" whispered Mdlle. Rosalie, crouching behind me. "Do not speak—do not move! She must not see mel"

It was perhaps foolish on my part to obey her, but I was dimly conscious that an injurious construction might be placed upon the circumstance of Mdlle. Rosalie and I being together at that time of night therefore I held my tongue. For a space of nearly a minute my wife stood at the window, and for that space neither Mdlle. Rosalie nor I moved or spoke, she standing behind me, and clasping me, as if for protection. Then the window was gently closed, aud.the blind let down. "I am safe!" whispered Mdlle. Rosalie, kissing my hand humbly and gratefully. "You will not betray me—you will keep my secret?" "It should be told," I said, "to my wife and daughter." :j::\ "Let me tell it to them." she said "let me choose the time! In two or three days I shall have courage." "As you will," I said, wishing to terminate the interview. "And you will not discharge my broth' er?" "No." "How can I thank you? How shall I be able to repay you? Give me timo to get back in the house. No one must see me— no one!"

I looked after her as she walked through the shadows to the house, which she entered in silence. Soon afterwards I followed her. My wife was still awake. "It is a beautiful night, Richard!" she said. "Did you enjoy your cigar?" [T* Oontinmd.]

Let t)« HtsMri HIm.

There is much virtue in a hiss judido:isly administered. Some theatre audiences understand this, and by Bkillful hissing they maintain dramatic art and their own taste in ruddy health. In the United States th* science of sibilation is but imperfectly comprehended, and it altogether hicks proper appreciation. It requires "no ghost 00mo from the grave" to prove that the art dramatic languishes in this country, for the reason that our audiences are credulous enough or patient enough to take all playwrights and plays a*, their own valuation. The proof, like the poor, is with us always.

Nobody questions the propriety of manifesting approval by applause. Why, then, with equal propriety, may not one express disapproval by hissing? If your butcher sells you a defective joint you remonstrate, as becomes your free born privilege. But if an author sells you a bad play or an actor a faulty performance yon go your way in silence and comfort yourself with the thought that there is an end to the matter. But your complacent attitude subjects you to further imposition your confidence is misplaced. Managers see quickly enough that you will pay for anything they offer, and the result is that you discourage good art by making bad art profitable.

A little hissing goes along way. No man relishes being the object of it, and after one or two applications of the remedy your actor or your author will begin to mend bis artistic manners. None hiss more shrewdly than the Londoners, who, before all else, stand upon their "rights" and demand their money's worth.

Americas audiences might safely take a leaf from the book of the British playgoers. Undoubtedly our theatre folk would be mmmaeA at the outset when reminded that their patrons have rights that are entitled to respect, but they would accustom themselves to the sibilant reproof in time, and the stage would be much the better in the end. The critical hiss is no evidence of personal ill feeling. It is purely a scientific affair, as any properly equipped philosopher will vouch. It keeps foreign actors always on their mettle, and the European capitals can, with some show of reason, claim to possess a fair amount of dramatic art Scientific hissing would do much for the happiness of the American muse. Surfeit of applause burdens her with indigestion and leads to dropsy.—New York Pra*.

As alterve Tonic

A X-*

Use Hosford's Acid Phosphate. Dr. S. L. Williams, Clarence, Iowa, says: "I have nsed it to grand effect in case of neurajgio fever, and in uterine difficulties. Also, in esses where a general tonic was needed. For a nerve tonic I think it is the best I have ever nsed, and can recommend itjnostconfidently."

.'

f:

without a penny in his pocket, he made his way to England, little dreaming that I was in this country. His sad wanderings, directed by Fate, brought him here—here where I had the happiness of finding a home and sympathizing friends. We met by accident my astonishment was great it was as if he had risen from the grave. What was I to do? I had solemnly assured your good wife and daughter that I was utterly, entirely friendless, and through them, you believed this to be so. If I now informed you to the contrary I might be proclaiming my own death warrant. You might have said, 'Mademoiselle Rosalie has practiced treachery towards us she presented herself to us in a false light, and therefore she is unworthy of our confidence she shall be dismissed. I was so harrowed by the fear of losing this happy home, in which, after all my troubles, I had found peace and rest, that I had not the courage to undeceive you but after what you have witnessed, sir, this afternoon, I could no longer remain silent My honor, my good name, was at stake, and it must be vindicated—for what else have I left to nerve and support me in the trials I may yet have to endure? I could not wait till to-morrow. About to seek my couch, I saw you from my bedroom window, and, blessing the chance, I hurried down to make my confession. Forgive me, sir, forgive me! and assure me that I have regained my place in your esteem. Tell me you do not despise me." "If your story is true—" I said, and would have proceeded had she not interrupted me. "If, sir, if! Is it possible that you can doubt me still? I swear, upon my knees I swear, I have spoken truly." "You are to be pitied," I said, "not despised." I saw no reason to doubt her further. Two angels, my wife and daughter, had full faith iu her: why should not IP In what she had related there was not a flaw, there was nothing contrary to reason or opposed to the ordinary course of human motives. "Say that you pardon me, sir," she pleaded, "and give me your haud as a token of forgiveness" I gave her my hand, and she murmured, "1 am happy—I am happy!"

'*&T

'S \r *5 ',1-

4

Is Consumption Incurable. Read the following: Mr. C. H. Morris, Newark, Ark., says: "Was down with Abscess of Lungs, and friends and physicians pronounced me an Incurable Consumptive. Began taking Dr. King's* New Discovery for Consumption, am^ now on my third bottle, and able to oversee the work on my farm. It is the finest medicine ever made."

Jesse Middle, Decatur, Ohio: "Had it not been for Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption I would have died from Lung Troubles. Was given up by doctors. Am now in best of health. Try it. Sample bottles free at Carl Krietenstien's Drug Store, s. w. corner 4th and Ohio streets. 5

Elcctric Bittern.

fuaranteed

Buoklen's Arnica Salve.

The Best Salve in the world for Cuts, Bruises, Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It ib guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 26o. per box. For sale by Carl Krietenstein, S. W Cor. 4th and Ohio.

Cleanse

the System

DIAMOND PAINTS.

Gold, Silver, Bronce, Copper. Only zo Cents.

Baby Portraits.

m—

•I

well pec- 1 strio N —A

This remedy is becoming BO well known and so popular as to need no special mention. All who have used Electric Bitters sing the same song of praise.—A purer medicine does not exist and it is

to do all that is claimed.

ilectric Bitters will cure all diseases of the Liver and Kidneys, will remove Pimples, Boils, Salt Rheum and other affections caused by impure blood. Will drive Malaria from the system as well as cure all Malarial fevers.' For cure of Headache. Constipation and Indigestion try Eleotric Bitters. Entire satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. Price 50 cts. and $1.00 per bottle at Carl Krietenstein, s. w. corner 4th and Ohio streets.

With tlmt most reliable medicine—Palne's Celery Compound. It purines the blood, cures Constipation, and regulates the liver and kidneys,effectually cleansing the Bystem of all waste and dead matter.

Paine's

Celery Compound

combines true nerve tonic and strengthening qualities, reviving the energies and spirits. 1 have been troubled for some years with a complication of difficulties. After trying various remedies, and not finding relief. I tried Palne's Celery Compound. Before taking one full bottle the long troublesome symptoms bogan to subside, and I can truly say now, that I feel like a new man. Digestion has Improved, and I have gained ten pounds In weight since I have commenced taking the Compound." 11one8TU8 Stkahnb, Felchvllle, Vt $1.00. Six "or $6.00. At Druggists.

Wilis, Ricbaudbon & Co., Burlington, Vt.

ANY ONE CAN DYE

DIAMOND DYES

A Dress, or a Coat, Ribbons, Feathers, yarns, Rags, etc. and In many other way* SJ thins* look like NEW, DYES.

Any Color

FOR

TEN GENTS ney,

and make

look like NEW, by utin The work i« easy, aim

DIAMOND

and In many other wtp 8AVE Monejf, and mak* by mine •y, atmpiu, colors the BEST and FASTEST known. Aik lor DIAMOND DYES and take no other. For Qildlng or Bronzing Fancy Articles U8E

lis, quick th*

"A Portfolio of beautlftil baby pictures from life, printed on one plate paper by patent photo process. Bent free to Mother of any Baby born within a year.

Every laotber wants these

Sshy's

ictures send at once. Give name and age. WELLS, RICHARD80N A 00., •URUNQTON, VT.

Moore's

Also: I

Pilules are a most certain and speedy cure for all diseases that arise from Malaria, Chilla and Fever, etc. The

act directly In the blood, permeating the whole ox the circulation, killing the germs that produce fever, torpid liver, con­

stipation, kidney troubles, sick headtiche, rheumntlsm, neuralgia,etc. They are a

antidote for these complaints have never failed for more than 16 years. They act like magic on all malarial

sickness, hence they are the only positive

for all Blood Impurities known. They will purify and dense the system, when everything else has failed and as

For Chills

and fever, there Is nothing (and never was anything produced, ever,) like them

for their wonderful effects. Many hurdreds of thousands of old stubborn cases have been cured by Moore's Pilules, which all other remedies failed to touch. They area most valuable medicine to have on hand in the family they relieve indigestion, clear the skin, act on the liver at once—hence there Is no need of the harmful cathartics. They are worth many times their cost to any family. Those who rely on Moore's Pilules are quickly distinguished by their bright appearance, elastic step, and tnc healthful glow upon tnetr faces

Moore's Throat and Lung Losenges are a most excellent lemedyr-nothlng better-for Coughs, Colds, More Throat, Bronchitis. Whooping Cough and all affections of the throat and chest. They are pleasant to the taste, and give Instant relief. Put up in large 10 eent and 2& cent tin hoses—for Irritation of he throat there Is no remedy 1 hat begins to compare with them. Both

remedies

sold by druggists.

OB4TKTCL- COMTOBTIHG,

Epps's Cocoa

BBBiiKFAIIT.

"By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which govern the operations of dices* Uon and nutrition, and by a careful applies* tlon of the fine properties of well-selected Coooa, Mr. Eppe has provided our breakfast tables with a delicately flavored beverage which may save ns many heavy doctors' bills. It is by the Judicious use of such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enouah to resist every tendency to disease. Hundreds of aubr»tin/l tis ready to

tiemaladies are floating around.us readyto attack wherever there & a weak pointmay escape

many

ouneives well fortified

We

a total shaft

by keeping

with pure blood and a

property nourished frame.'—{Civil Service

Made simply with boiling water or milk Sold only in half pound tins bygrooers, labeled thus: JAXKS EPFs 4k CO«

HoLaowpathlc Chemists, Zxtadon, Kng

t^4-

Mcitii