Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 46, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 May 1889 — Page 2

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CHAPTER XII. GEOKOE PSOPUECIES.

Ida, for obvious reasons, raid nothing to her fafber of ber interview with Edv Coesey, and Ibus it came to piss that on i~e morning following the lawn tennis porty, there was a very serious consultation between the faithful George and bis master. It appeared to Ida, who was lying awake iu her room, to commence somewhere about daybreak, and it certainly eomiuued, with short interval* for refreshment, till 11 o'clock in the forenoon. First tho squire explained the whole question to George at great length, and with a most extraordinary multiplicity of detail, for be began with his first loan from the bouse of Cossey & Son, which be had contracted a £reat many years before. AH this wliilo Oecs^e pat with a very long face, and trie co looU n.- thougli he were following the thread of io argument, which was not possible, for his master had long ago lost it himself, and was mixing up tho loun of 1803 with the loan of 1874, and the money raised on the sevciauco of the entail with both iu a way which would have driven anybody except George, who was used to this sort of thing, perfectly mad. However, he sat it through and when at last the account was finished, remarked that things "sartinly did look queer."

Thereupon the squire called him a stupid owl, and having by means of some test questions discovered that be knew very little of the details which had just been explained to him at such portentous length, he, in spite of the protest of the wretched George, who urged that they "didn't seem to be gitting no forrader somehow,*' began and went though every word of it again.

This brought them to breakfast timo, and after breakfast George's accounts were thoroughly gone into, with the result that confusiou was soon worse confounded, for either George could not keep accounts or the squire could not follow them. Ida, sitting in the drawing room, could continually hear her father's ejaculatory outbursts after this kind: "Why, you stupid donkey, you've added it up all wrong it's 950, not 850 followed by a "No, no, squire, you be a looking on the wrong side—them there aro the debits," and so on till both parties were fairly played out, and tho only thing that remained clear was that the balance was considerably on the wrong side.

This was tho stato of affairs, when the door bell rang and Edward Cossey, looking particularly handsomo and rather overpowering, was shown into the room.

The squire shook bands with him this time, though coldly enough, and George touched his forelock and said: "Sarvant, sir," in tho approved fashion. Thereon his master told him that be might retire, though bo was to be suro not to go out of bearing, as he should want him again presently. "Very well, sir," answered George, "I'll just step up to tho poplars. I told a man to be round there today, as I want to see if I can come to an onderstanding with him about this year's fell iu the big wood." "There," said tho squire with an expression of infinite disgust, "there, that's juftt like your way, your horrid, cadging way the idea of telling a man to be 'round about tho Poplars' some timo or other today, because you wanted to speak to him a tout a fell. Why didn't you writo him a letter like an ordinary Christian and make an offer, instead of dodging him round a farm for half a day like a wild Indian? Besides, the Poplar* is half a mile off if it's a yard." "Lord, sir," said George, as be retired, "that ain't tho way that folks in these parts like to do business, that ain't. Letter writing is all very well for Londoners and other furriners, but it don't do here. Besides, sir, I shall bear you well enough up there. Sarvent, sir"—this to Edward Cossey —and he was gone.

Edward burst out laughing and the squire looked after his retainer with a comical air. "No wonder that tho placo has got in such a mess with such a fellow as that to manage it," bo said aloud. "The idea of hunting a man round tho Poplars Farm like—like an Indian squaw. He's a regular cadgor, that's what he is, and that's all he's fit for. However, it's his way of doing business, and 1 sha*nt alter him. Well, Mr. Cossey," he went on, "this is a very sad state of affairs, at any rate so far as I am concerned. I presume, of course, that you know of the steps which have been taken by Cossey & Son to force a foreclosure, for that is what it amounts to, though I have not as yet received tho formal notice indeed I presume that those steps have been taken under your advice." "Yea, Mr. de la Molle, I know all about it, and hero is the notice calling iu the loans," and he placcd a folded paper on the table. "Ah," said tho squire, "I see. As 1 remarked to your manager, Mr. Quest, yesterday, 1 think that, considering the nature of the relationship which has existed for to many generations between our family and the business Urtn of which you nre the member considering, too, the peculiar circumstances in which tho owners of bind find themselves at this moment, and the ruinous lc*»—to put question* of sentiment asidivthat must be inflicted by such salo upon the owner of property, that more consideration might bare been shown. However, it is useless to try to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear or to get blood from a stone, so 1 suppose that 1 must make the best of a bod job, cud," with a most polite bow/'I really do not know that I have anything more to say to you. Mr. Cossey. I will forward the notice to my lawyers indeed, 1 think that it might have been sent to them in the flrst instance."

Edward Cossey bad all thill while been sitting on an okl oak chair, his eye* fixed upon the ground, and slowly -.winging his bat between his log*. Suddenly be looked up, and, to tho squire's surprise, add quietly: "1 quite agree with you. I doat think that you can say anything too bnd about the behavior of my people. A Shoreditch Jew could not have done worse. And look here, Mr. de la Molle, to come to tlie point and prevent misunderstanding, I may as well say at once that, with your permission, 1 am anxious to take up these on ', ea for two reasons: I regard tbuu ui JI ds Investment even in the present condition of laud, and also 1 viih to save Cos- & Son from the discredit of the step wL™» they meditate."

For tbe secood time that morning the •quire looked up with the sharp wad Marching gan be usually asmuned, and for the

•croud time bis Instinct—for lie was too beady a man to reason overmuch—came Into play and warned him that in this offer Edward Cossey had other than those which be bad brought forward. He paused to oooxkkr what they might ba. Wa* he anxious to get tbe estat-'nrhimselfl Was he put forward by tor ody eW Quest, perhaps or *aa it something to do with Idat Tbe ft"* alternative seemed tbe most probable to Bui wfaafcevw wi»

BY H. BJDER HAGGARD.

tbe lender's oi

v-t,

JTERRE HAUTE

tt result (o him was the

same—ft £avo liim ivapita. For Mr.de la Molle knew well enough that he had no more chance of raising tho mo::oy from any ordinary source of investment rhjrthe had of ul: ri t£ thoeoiiiiiti'tn of ngi-icuiTiire. "Hum," be said, "this is au important matter* a mc^t important matter. I presume, Mr. Co-vy, tint Lei making this definite offer you have consulted a legal adviser "Ob, yes, I have done all that, and am quite satisfied with tbe security—an advance of Uiirty thousand charged on nil the Honhnm castle estates at 4 per cent. The question now is if you are prepared to consent to the.transfer In that ~tse all tbe old charges on the projseity will paid off and Mr. Quest, who will net for i:i tin matter, will prvjwrv a simple deed charging tbe property for the roi:ud total." "Ah. yes, the plan seems si satisfactory one. but. of course, in so important a matter 1 should prefer to consult my legal adviser before giving final answer: indeed, 1 think that it would l» better if the whole affair were carried out in a proper and formal way."* "Surely, surely, Mr. do la Molle," said tbe younger man with some irritation, for the old gentleman's somewhat magnificent manner rather annoyed him, which, under the circumstances, was not unnatural. "Surely you do not want to consult a legal adviser to make up your mind as to whether or not you will allow a foreclosure. I offer you the money at 4 per rent. Cannot jou let me have an answer now—yes or nof' "I don't like being hurried. I can't bear to be hurried," said tho squire, pettishly. "These important matters require consideration, a great deal of consideration. Still," he added, ol«erving signs of increased irritation ujion Edward Cossey's face, and not having the slightest intention of throwing away tho opportunity, though he would dearly bnvo liked to prolong tho negotiations for a week or two, if it was only to enjoy the illusory satisfaction of dabbling with such a lurge sum of money—"still, as you are BO pressing about it, 1 really, speaking offhand, tan seo no objection to your taking up the mortgages 011 the terms you merttion." "Very well, Mr. de la Molle. Now 1 have, 011 my part, 0:10 condition, and 0110 only, to attach to this offer of mine, that is, that my name is not mentioned in connection with it. 1 do not wish Cossey & Sou to know that I have taken up this investment on my own account. In fact, so necessary to mo is it thut it should not bo mentioned, that if it dyes transpire beforo tho affair is completed, 1 shall withdraw my offer, and if it transpires afterward I shall call tho money iu. The loan will bo advanced by a client of Mr. Quest's. Is that understood between usr' "Hum," said the squire. "I don't quite like this socrecy about these important matters of business, but still if you make a point of it, why, of course, 1 cannot objcct." "Very good. Then I presuino that you will writo officially to Cossey & Son stating that tho money will lie forthcoming to meet their various charges and the overdue interest. And now I think that wo have had about enough of this business for once so with your permission I will pay my respects to Miss do la Mollo beforo 1 go." "Dear me," said tho squire, pressing his hand to his head, "you do hurry me so dreadfully—1 really don't know whero I am. Miss de la Molle is out I saw her go out sketching myself. Sit down and we will talk this business over a little more." "No, thank you, Mr. do la Molle have to talk about money every day of my life, and I soon have enough of the subject. Quest will arrange all tho details. Good-by. Don't bother to ring, I will flnd my horse." And with a shake of the hand I10 was gone.

CHAPTER XIII. ABOUT ART.

Edward Cossey drove from tho castle in a far from happy frntno of mind. To begin with, the squiro and his condescending way of doiug business irritated him very much, so much that onco or twice in the course of the conversation he was within an ace of breaking tho whole thing off, and only restrained himself with difficulty from so doing. As it was, notwithstanding all the sacrifices and money risks wlucb ho was undergoing to take up these mortgages—and tbey were very considerable oven to a man of bis great prospects—he felt that he had been placed in the position of a person who receives a favor rather than of a person who grants one. Moreover, there was an assumption of superiority about th| old man, a visible recognition of tl:c gulrwhich used to be fixed between the gentleman of family and the man of business who had grown rich by trading in money and money's worth, which was tho more galling because it was founded on actual fact, and Edward Cossey knew it. All his foibles and oddities notwithstanding, it would lmve been impossible for any man of discernment to entertain a comparison between the half bankrupt squire and the young banker, who would shortly be worth between half a million and a million sterling. The former ,wus a representative, though a somewhat erratic one, of all that is best in the old type of Engkshmen of gentle blood, which is now so rapidly vanishing, and, indeed, of tbe class to which, to a very large extent, this country owes her greatness.

No wonder that Edward Cossey felt his inferiority to this symbol and type of tbe things that no more are—yea, even iu tbe shadow of his thirty thousand pounds. For here we have a different breed. Goldsmiths two cental fee ago, then bankers from generation to generation, money bees seeking for wealth and counting it and hiving it from decade to decade, till at last money became to them what honor is to tbe nobler stock—tbe pervading principle-rand tbe clink of tbe guinea and tbe rustling of tbe bank note stirred their Mood as toe clang of armed men and tbe *--~d of tbe flapping brrrcr, with its three .en hawks flaming in:

.*

sun, was wont to

set tbe hearts of the race of Boisaey, of Doff and of De la Molle, beating to that t) which England marched onto win the world.

And J' of all this is that tbe squire was not: ._r wrong when be declared ID tbe silence of his chamber that Edward Cooey was net a gta nan. He showed it wben ho ^.jscd ialf to be guided by the arts of Mr. into tbe a .ttion of the idea of 1.. rpoo Im, to be enforced if 31. wed It again, and what it more beoo id a mistake, wben, v:: A tber to by 1 r^rrnity of th* WiciJ, b** Vvi*4. bargain itb« said 1 1,*: eby •be was placed in pledge for the sum of thirty t*- •"n—.-d poor-V, well r1-*? ber li vouW 1- qualtoti» a if eoanohBtto^ntbceaald be topay lebt made a bag mistake, for fa he beet a gentleman 1 roald have known tha* be could not haw adopted a

SATURDAY

worse road to the affections of a lady. Had he been content to advance the money, and then by and by—though even that would not have been gentleman like—have gently let it transpire what be bad done at great personal expense and inconvenience, ber imagination might have been touched, and her gfaiitudn would certainly have been excited. But tl^p Idea of bargaining, the idea of pin-chase, which, after what had passed, could never be put aside, would of eoessity be fatal to any hope of tender feeling. Sbylock might get his bond, but of bis own act bo bad debarred himself from the possibility of ever getting more.

Now Edward Cossey was not lacking in that after glow of refinement which is left behind by a course of public school and university education. No education can make a gentleman of a man who is not a gentleman at heart for whether his station in life bo that of a plowboy or an earl, the gentleman, like the poet, is born and not made. But it can and does, if he 1» of an observant nature, give him a certain insight into tbe habits of thought and probable course of action of the members of that class to which he outwardly, and by repute, belongs. Such an insight Edward Cossey possessed, and at the present moment its possession was troubling him very much. His trading instincts, tho desire bred in him to get something for his money, had led him to make-the bargain but now that it was done his better judgment rose up against it. For tbe truth may as well be told at once, although he would as yet scarcely acknowledge it to himself, Edward Cossey was already violently enamored of Ida. He was by nature a passionate man, and as it chanccd, she had proved the magnet with power to draw his passion. But as the reader is aware, there existed another complication in his life for which he was not perhaps entirely responsible. When still quite a youth iu mind he had suddenly found himself tbe object of tbe love of a beautiful and intbralling woman, and he bad, after a more or less severe struggle, yielded to' the temptation, as, Out of a book, many young men would have done. Now to be the object of tho violent affection of such a woman as Belle Quest is no- doubt very flattering and even charming for awhile. But if that affection is not returned in kind—if, in short, the gentleman does not love the lady quite so warmly as she loves him—then in course of time the charm is apt to vanish, and even the flattery to cease to please. Also, when, as in tbe present case, the connection is wrong in itself and universally condemned by, society, the affection which can still triumph and endure 011 both sides must be of a very strong and lasting order. Even an unprincipled man dislikes the acting of one long lie such as an intimacy of the sort necessarily involves, and if the man happens to bo rather weak than unprincipled the dislike is apt to turn to loathing, some portion of which will certainly in time be reflected on to the partner of his ill doing.

Tuis was tho state of affairs before he became attached to Ida de la Molle, after which tho horizon grew blacker than ever. At first he tried to get out of the difficulty by avoiding Ida, but it did not answer. She exercised au irresistible attraction over him. Her calm and stately preseuce was to him what the sight of the mountain snowsjare to one scorched by continual heat. IIo was weary of passionate outbursts, tears, agonies, alarms, presentiments aud all tho paraphernalia of secret love. It appeared to him, looking up at tho beautiful snow, that if onco bo could reach it, life would all be sweetness and light, that there would be no more thirst, no more fear, and no more forced marches through those ill odored quagmires of deceit. Tho more he allowod his imagination to dwell upon the picture tho fiercer grew his longing to possess it. Also ho knew well enough that to marry a woman liko Ida de la Molle would be tho greatest blessing tuut could happen to him, fbr sho would of necessity lift him up abovo himself. She had 110 money, it is true, but that was a very minor matter to him, and sho had birth and breeding and beauty and that presence which commands homage. And so it came to pass that he fell deeply and yet more deeply iu love with Ida, and that as he did so bis connection with Mrs. Quest (although we have seen him but yesterday offering in a passing fit of tenderness and remorse to run away with her) became more and more irksome to him. And rrtw as he drove leisurely back to Boisinghamf he felt that he had imperiled all bis hopes by a rash indulgence in his trading instincts.

Presently the road he was following took a turn and revealed a sight that did not tend to improve his already irritable mood. Just hero tho roadway was bordered by a deep bank covered with trees which Bloped down to the valley of tho Ell, at this timo of the year looking its loveliest in the soft autumn lights. And here, seated on a slope of turf beneath the shadow of a yellowing chestnut tree, in such a position as to get a view of tbe green valloy and flashing river, where cattle red and white stood chewing tbe still luxuriant aftermath, was none other than Ida herself, and, what was more, Ida accompanied by Col. Quaritcb. They were seated on camp stools, and in front of each of them was an easel. Clearly tbey were painting together, for even as Edward gazed the colonel rose, camo up close behind his companion's stool, made a ring of his thumb and flrst finger, gaced critically through it at the lady's performance, and then sadly shook his head and made some remark, whereupon Ida turned round and commenced an animated discussion. "Hang me," said Edward to himself, "if she has not taken up with that confounded old military frump Painting together I Ah, I know what that means. Well, I should have thought that if there was one man mere than another whom she would have disliked, it would have been that battered looking colonel." He pulled up his horse and reflected for a moment, then handed the reins to bis servant, jumped oat, and climbing through a gap in the fence walked up to tbe tree where tbe pair were sitting. 80 engrossed were tbey in their argument that tbey neither saw nor beard him. "It's nonsense, CoL Quaritcb, perfect nonsense, if you will forgive me for saying so," Ida was saying, with warmth. "It is all very well for you to complain that my trees are a blur awl tbe castle nothing but a splotch, but I am looking at tbe water, and if I am looking at tbe water, it is quite impossible that I should see tho trees and tbe cows otherwise than I have rendered them on the canvas. True art is to point what the painter sees and as be sees it."

CoL Quaritcb shook his bead and sighed. "Tbe cant of tbe impressionist school," be said, sadly

"00

tbe contrary, tbe business of

the artist is to paint what he knows to be there," and be gawd complacently at his own canvas, which bad tbe appearance of a spirit drawing of a fortified place, or of tbe contents erf a child's Noah's ark, so stiff, so solid, ao formidable were its outlines, trees and animata.

Ida shrugged ber shoulders, laughed merrily, and turned round to find herself face to fsca with Edward Cossey. She started and bar face hardened -then she s&wtcbed oat her bard and saki: "Bowdoyouiiof in her vervee: stt a "Howdo, ad ItadefeMoOeFbasakl, •mmingaattr --revrn'd an air a* hn and bowing stuSy to iiaroki Qua... jt, vrbo retaroed the bow and west back u, aJsoan•as, which was placed a few pacta off. .?,

A TFC

EVENING MATT.

"I saw you painting," went on Edward Cossey, in a low tone, "so I thought I would come and tell you that 1 have settled that matter with Mr. de la Molle." "Oh, indeed," answered Ida, hitting viciously at a wasp with her paint brush. "Well, I hopf that }'oa will find the investment a ratisfactflry one. And now, if you please, do not let us talk any more about money, because I ain quite tired of the subject" Then raising her voice, she went on: "Come here, CoL Quaritcb, and Mr. Cossey shall judge between us," and she pointed to her picture.

Edward glanced at tbe colonel with no amiable air. "I know nothing about art," be said, "and I am afraid I must be getting on. Good morning." And taking off his bat to Ida he turned and went. "Umpb." said the colonel, looking after him with a quizzical expression, "that gentleman seems rather short in his temper. Wants knocking about the world a bit, I should say. But I beg your pardon, I suppose that he is a friend of yours, Miss de la Molle?' "He is an^ acquaintance of mine," answered Ida^ith emphasis.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE TIGER SHOWS HER CLAWS. After this very chilling reception at the hands of the object of his affection, Edward Cossey, as may bo imagined, continued his drive iu an even worse temper than before. He reached his rooms, had some luncheon, and then in pursuance of a previous engagement went over to The Oaks to see Mrs. Quest.

He found her waiting for him in tho drawing room. She was standing at the window with her hands behiud her, a favorite attitude of hers. As goon as the door was shut she turned, came up to him, and grasped his band affectionately between her own. "It is an age since I have seen you, Edward," she said, "one whole day. Really, when I do not see you, I do not live—I only exist."

He. freed himself from her clasp with a quick movement. "Really, Belle," he said, impatiently, "you might be a little more careful than to go through that sort of performance in front of an open window—especially as the gardener must have seen the whole thing." "1 don't much care if he did," sho said defiantly. "What does it matter! My husband is certainly not in a position to make a fuss about other people." "What does it matter?" ho said, stamping his foot. "What does it. not matter? If you have no care for ycur good uame, do you suppose that 1 am indifferent to mine?"

Mrs. Quest opened her largo violet eyes to the fullest extent, and a curious light reflected from them. "You have grown wohaerfully careful all of a sudden, Edward," she said meaningly. "What is tho use of my being careful when you ore so reckless? I tell you what it is, Bella We aro talked of all over this gossiping town, and I don't like,it aud, what is more, onee and for all, I w6n't have it. If you will not bo more careful I will break with you altogether, aud that is the long aud short of it." "Whero have you been this morning?" she asked, in the same ominously calm voice. "I have been to Honhara castle on a matter of business." "Oh, and yesterday you were there on a matter of pleasure. Now, did you happen to see Ida in tho course of your business?" "Yes," he answered, looking her full in tbe face. "I did see her. What about it?" "By appointmeut, I suppose?" "No, uot by appointment. Have you done your catechism?" "Yes—and now I am going to preach a homily on it. I seo through you perfectly, Edward. You are getting tired of me and you want to be rid of me. I tell you plainly that you are not going the right way to work about it. No woman, especially if she bo in my unfortunato position, can tamely bear to see herself discarded for another. Certainly I cannot—and I caution you—cautidn you to be careful, because when I think of such a thing I am not quite myself," and suddenly, and without the slightest warning (for her face had been hard and cold as a stone), she burst into a flood of tears.

Now Edward Cossey, being but a man, was somewhat broken down at this sight Of course he did his best to console ber, though with no great results, for she was still sobbing bitterly wben suddenly there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Quest turned her face toward the wall and pretended to be reading a letter, and tried to look as unconcerned as possible. "A telegram for you, sir," said tbe girl, with a sharp glance at her mistress. "The telegraph boy brought it on here when he found that you were not at home, because be said be would be sure to find you hero—and please, sir, bo hopes that you will give him sixpence for bringing it round, as he thought it might be important"

Edward felt in his pocket and gave tho girl a shilling, telling her to say that there was no answer. As soon as sho wns gone be opened tbe telegram and started. It was from his sister in London, and ran as follows: "Come up to town at once. Father has bad a stroke of paralysis. Shall expect you by tho 7 o'clock train." "What is itF' said Mrs. Quest, noting tbe alarm on bis face. "Why, my father is very ili. He has had a stroke of paralysis, and 1 must go to town by tbe next train." "Shall you be long away "I do not know. How can I tell? Good-by, Belle. I am sorry that wo should have had this scene just as I am going, but 1 can't help it" "Ob, Edward," she said, catching him by the arm and turning her tear stained face up toward his own, "you are not angry with me, are you! Do not let us part in anger. How can I help being .jealous when I love you Tell me that you do not hate me—or I shall be wretched all tho time you are away," "No, no, of course not—but I must say that I wish you would not make such shocking scenes. Good-by." "Good-by,"she answered, as sbe gave him ber shaking bauds. "Good-by, my dear. If only you knew what I feel here," sbe pointed to her breast, "you would make excuses for me." Almost before she had finished her ffqfamw be was gone. Sbe stood near tbe door, listening to his retreating footsteps till tbey bad quite died away, and then flung herself is the chair and rested ber head upon ber bands. "I shall loee him," sbe said to herself in the bitterness of ber heart "1 knowIshalL What chance have I against berf lie already cares for Ida a great deal more than be does for ma In the end be will break from mo and marry ber some

Oh, had rather see bim dead and myself too.* Half an hour later Mr. Quest' came in. "Where is Coasey asked. "Mr. Cossey *s father has bad a stroke of paralysis, ana he has gone up to London to look after him* "Ob," saia Mr. Quest "WeQ, If tbe old gsotletnen friend will be one of t}» wealth*** tocu England »W eU, so mods the better for him. Iam sore money is a great bhsrinj. It protects one from so much." "Yes," said Mr. Quest, with emphasis, "so much tbe better for nt,aad all connected with him Why hav ou been cryingf Because jy has pous away—or have yea quarreled with hi:. "How do you knoef that I hare bean cry­

ingf If I have, i^a my affair. At any rate my tears are my own." "Certainly they ai"e—I do not wish to interfere with your crying—cry when you like. £t will be lueky for Cossey if that old father of his dies just now. because he wants money." "What does he want money forP' "Because he has undertaken to pay off the mortgages on the castle estate," "Why has he done that—as an in vestmen tP "No, it is a rotten investment I believe he has doue it because he is in love with Miss de la Molle, nnd is naturally anxious to ingratiate himself with her. Don't you know that# 1 thought perhaps that was what you bad been crying about?" "It is not true," sho answered, her lips quivering with {vain.

Mr Quest laughed gently:' "I think you must have lost your power of observation, which used to be sufficiently keen. However, of course it does uot matter to you. It will iu many ways bo a most suitable marriage, and I am sure they will make a very handsome couple"

She made uo answer, and turned her back to hido tho workings of her face. For a few moments her husband stood looking at her, with a gentle smile playing on his refined features. Then remarking that he must go round to the office, but would be back in time for tea, lie wont, reflecting with satisfaction that ho had given his wife something to think about which would be scarcely to lier taste.

As for Belle Quest, she waited till the door had closed, and then turned round toward it aud spoke aloud, as though she were addressing her vanished husband. "1 hate you," she said, with bitter emphasis, "I hatoyou. You have ruined my life, and now you torment me as though I were a lost soul. Oh, 1 wish 1 were dead! I wish I were deadl"

On reaching his office, Mr. Quest found two letters for him, one of which had just arrived by the afternoon jiost. The flrst was addressed in the squire's handwriting and signed with his big seal, and tho other bore a superscription, tho sight of which made him turn momentarily faint. Taking up this last with a visible effort, he opened it. It ran us follows: "DEAR BiLtr—No answer this morning. 1 |jopo you ain't up to any of your tricks about the tin, because 1 won't stand it, that's alL I told you that I had dropped all my oof, not that I had much out of you this year, only five hundred and a beggarly £20 ou my birthday and what I make at the Birmingham—four pound ten a week, and hard work for that, i'm cleaned out, and that's all about it Only just now a brute of a fellow came in with a summons for rates, mid 1 told him that my frieud—that means you, Dill dear—was going to come down handsome in a day or two. He would not believe it—just as though he knew what a mean lot yon were—so I told him to bundle out double quick, or I'd have tho coal shoot at his bead— and ho went, you bet, but he'll bo back before long with tho sunimous. I say the coal shoot, for there ain't no coals in it, and I can't afford auy money to get a bit of fire to warm my bones with. Then there's tho landlord says ho'll distrain for the rent, unless it's paid up in double quick time. And so tho long and short of it is that, if I don't get about five hundred quid out of you in tho course of next week, I'll know tho reason why. And I'll just be plain with you, Bill, my old boy. If I dou'tsee the color of that money by this day week, why, I will tell you what I am going to do. I am goitig to take a little country air—my complexion wants it —and I think Boisingham would suit first rate. I11 fact, I shall co!*e down and pay you a visit, old boy so perhaps you'll ask tho lovely Mrs. Quest to get a room ready for nie, and when I get down there, if I don't toll all the old respectables a thing or two about their beloved lawyer, and generally make them sit up aud see stars, why, 1 ain't I. And now there's the straight tip from your affectionate 'Tiger.' But remember sho'd always rather purr than growl. It's only when tho cash don't come down that her back goes up. All a question of money, my lKy, like everything else in this wicked world. "Your beloved EDITH."

By the time that Mr. Quest had finished reading this precious effusion, tbe cold sweat was standing in beads on his forehead. "Great heavens 1" be said, "this woman will destroy me. What a devill And she'd be as good as ber word unless I found her the money. I must go up to town at once. I wonder bow she got that idea into her head. It makes me shudder to tfc \k of such a thing," and he dropped-his face upon his bands and groaned in tho bitterness of bis heart "It is hard," he thought to himself "here 1 have for yours and years been striving and toiling and" laboring to becomo a i-cs pec table nnd respected member of society, and always this old folly haunts my stops aud drags me down, and, by heaven, I balievo that it will destrty mo after all." With a sigh he lifted his head, and taking a sheet of paper wroton it, "I hnvo received your letter and wi come and seo you to-morrow or tho nex day." This letter ho placed in an envelope, which he directed to tho high sounding uame of Mrs. d'Aubigne, Stanley street, Pimlico, and put it in bis pocket

Then with another sigh he took up the squire's letter and glanced through it Its length was considerable, but in substance it announced his acceptance of the arrangement proposed by Mr. Edward Cowey, and requested that bo would prepare the necessary deeds to bo submitted to bis lawyers. Mr. Quest read the letter absently enough, and threw it down with a little laugh.

"Great fttomuf h« mud, "thi* woman will destroy me.* "What a queer world it is," he said to himself, "and what a ludicrous side it has to it all. Hm* it C'-^y advancing money to get a bold rid* la Molle, whom be means to marry if be can, and who is probably piaying faer aw snd. Bare is Belle madly in love with wy. who will break ber heart Here am I in lo .o with Belle, who hetes me, and ptaying everybody's game in ordfer to advance ray own, and become a TsaeraiecPmember of a society I am aupa» rtar to, Here is tin

1

IF?

about like a walrus in a horse pond, and fancying everything is being conducted for his sole advantage, and that all the world revolves round Honham castle. And thou here at the »nd of the chain is this female harpy, Edith Jones, otherwise D'Aubigue, alias the Tiger, gnawing at my vitals and holding my fortunes in her hands. Bahl it is a queer world, and full of combinations: but the worst of it is that, plotas wo will, the solution of them does not rest with us, uo— not with us."

To he Continued.]

They strolled along tho bitwd parade, John Jones and pretty Miss Maria. "Your teeth ate awful, John," she said "Why don't you buy the beautlfler? Fee mine! How white! Yes'tis mv wont

To polish thom with SOPODONT""

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a

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CMICAAO. IUU

R. A. CAMPBELL, Ueneral Agent, Terre Haute, lad.