Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 20, Number 2, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 6 July 1889 — Page 2

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A week hod passed, and Edward Cossey, nursed night and day by Belle Quest, still hovervd between life and death.

It was a Thursday, and Harold had walked up to the castle to give the squire tbe latest news of the wounded man. While be was in the vestibule telling what bc had to tell to Mr. de la Mollo ami Ida, a man whom he recognized a* one of Mr. Quest's clerks rang tbe boil. Ho was shown in, and banded the squire a fully addressed brief envelope, which, lie said, lie ha«i been toid to deliver by Mi. Quest, aud adding that there was no answer, bowed himself out.

As toon cm lie bad gone, tbe envelope was

0{entvl

by Mr. do la Molle, who took from it

two legul looking documents which he began to read. Suddenly the first dropped from bis bund, aud with an exclamatiou be snatched at tbe second. "What is It, fattierr asked Ida. "What is it? Why, It's just this. Edward Cossey lias transferred the mortgages over this property to Quest, the lawyer, and Quest has served a notice on me calling in the money," and be began to walk up aud down the room in a state of great agitation. '•I dont quito understand," said Ida, her breast heaving, and with a curious light shining in her eyes. "D.n't youf' said her father, "then perhaps you will road that," and bo pushed the papers to her. As he did so, another letter, which be had not observed, fell out of them.

At this poiut Harold rose to go. "Don't go, Quaritch, dont go," said the •quire. "I shui! glad of your odvice, aud I am sure that what you boar will not go any further."

At the same time Ida motioned him to stay, and though somewhat uuwilling he did so. "Dear sir," began tho squire, reading the otter aloud— "Inclosed you will find tho usual formal notices calling In tbe sum of thirty thousand pound* recently advanced upon mortgage of the Honhain castle states by Edward Cossey, Esq. These mortgages have passed Into my possofwion for valuo received, and it is now my desire to realism them. I most deeply n»gret being forced to presB an old client, but my circumstances ore such that I am obliged so to do, if I can in any way facilitate your effort* to rui*e tlto money, I shall be very glad to do so, but in tbe evout of the money not being forthcoming at tbe end Of the six mouths' notice, tbe ordinary steps will be takon to reoLiao by foreclosure. "I am, dear sir, yours truly, "W. QCSST.

MJam*

de la Molle, Esq., J. P."

BOW,"

said Ida. "Mr Cossey ha**no

farther bold ou the mortgages or on the proparty.* ,T "That's it," *aid the squire "he has transferred them to that rascally lawyer. And yet he told me— I fcan't understaud it, I really cant"

At this point the ooionel insisted upon departing, saying that be would call in again In the evoniug to soe if be could be of any assistance When be was gone, Ida spoke in a cold, determined voice "Mr. Cossey told me that when we married he would put thorn mortgages In the fire. It now seems that the mortgages were not his to dispose of, or else that ho has sinoe transferred them to Mr. Quest, without informing us." "Yes, I suppose so," said the squire. "Very well," said Ida. "And now, father, I will toll you something. I engaged myself —or, to be more accurate*, I promised to engage myself—to Edward Cossey on the condition that be would tako up these mortgages when Uossoy & Son were threatening to foreclose, or whatever it is called." "Good heavens!" said her astonished father, "what an ideaH "I did it," went on Ida, "and be took up the mortgages, and In duo oourse he claimed my promise, ntul I beoarao engaged to marry him, though that engagement was most repugnant to me. You will see that, having persuaded him to advnnee tho money, I could not refuse to carry out my share of the bargain." "Wen," said the squire, "this is all new to me!" "Yes," she answered, "aud I should never bavo told you fit had It not been for this sudden change in the position of affaire. What I did I did to save our family from ruin. But

now

it seems that Mr. Cossey has

played us false, and that wo are to be ruined after all. Therefor*, the condition upon which 1 promised to marry him has not been carried out, aud my promise falls to the ground." "You moan that supposing he lives you will not marry Edward Oosseyf "Yes, I do mean it"

The squire thought for a minute. "This Is a very serious step, Ida.," he said. "I dont mean that I think that tho man has behaved well, but still he may have given up the mortgage* to Quest under pressure of some sort, and might be willing to find tb© money to meet them." "I do not care if he finds the money ten times over," wud Ida. "I will not marry him. He has net kept to the letter of his and I will not kw?p to mine." is all very **11, Ida," said the Rjuire, «and of course nobody can force you into a distasteful marriage*. t«t I wish to point o«i oos thing to you. You have your family to of as well as yourself. I tell you fr xfr that 1 do not betiovo that, as tin araTifc be possible ram thirty thousand Z^1. -,.» p-" n& the oh&rgv*. union it is by S of **rd Cossey. £k if bo live* •iaas he has lasted so Ions I expect be will •. ?ettae to go on with your cure we shall be s.kl u{\ that it eenfound him, will

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«r," anrm':v4 I '.a, "but I H.Bpnry Uinn at?-! 1 do not .v* r.v to 1 fefc 5ivim. it ti ri-

to pat

any truth,** ft haw n«w

.vx-l

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.

CHAPTER XXX. nu. RECASTS.

The two great doctor* came, and the two great doctors pocketed tbeir hundred guinea fee and went, bat neither the oae nor the other, nor eke tbe twain, would commit themselves to a fixed opinion as to Edward Ccasey** chances of life or death. However, one of them picked out a number of shot from tbe wounded man, and a number more be left in because be ooukl not pick them oat, and they both agreed that the treatment of their bumble local brethren was all that ooukl be desired, and, no far as they were concerned, there was an end of it.

1^.5 W r.*r» the r*.s ead I '."f-r.t a Uw» «%".!*

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father, what3 means to a woman to sell herself into bodily and mental bondage—when she cares for another man." "Wen, well," said her father, with some Irritation, "lam no authority upon matters erf sentiment they are not in my line, and I know that women have their prejudices Still you cant expeot me to look at the matter In quite tbe same light as you da And who Is the gentleman, CoL Quaritch!"

She nodded her bead. "Ob," said tbe squire, "I have nothing to say against Quaritch indeed, I like tbe man but I suppose that if be has £500 a year, that is every sixpence he can oount on." "I had rather marry him upon five hundred a year than Edward Cossey upon fifty thousand." "Ah, yes, I have beard women talk like hh*t- before, though perhaps they think differently afterward. Of course, I have no right to obtrude myself, but when you are comfortably married, what is going to become of Bnnham, 1 should like to know, and, incidentally, of mef "I dont know, father, dear," she answered, her eyes filling with tears "we must trust to Providence, I suppose. I know you think me very selfish," she went on, catching him by tbe arm, "but, oh, father! there are things that are worse than death to women, or, at least, to some women. I almost think that I would rather die than marry Edward Cossey, though I would have gone through with it if he had kept his word." "No, no," said her father. "I cant wonder at it, and certainly I do not ask vou to marry a man you dislike. But still it is bard upon me to have all this trouble at my age, aud tbe old place ooming to the hammer, too. It is enough to make a man wish that his worries were over altogether. However, we must take things hs we find them, and we find them pretty rough. Quaritch said he was coming back this evening, didn't he) I suppose there will not be any public engagement at present, will there? And look here, Ida, I dout want him to oome talking to me about it I bave got enough things of oiy own to think of without bothering my homl with your love aiTairs. Pray let the matter be for the present. And now I am going out to see that fellow George, who hasn't been here sinoe he came back from Loudon, aud a nice bit of news it will be that I shall have to tell him."

After dinner Harold came again, as be had promised. Tbe squire was not iu the drawing room when he was shown in.

Ida rose to greet him wi& a eweei and happy smile upon her face, for in the presence of her lover all her doubts and troubles vanished like a mist. "I have a bit of news for you," said he, trying to look as though be was rejoiced to give it "Edward Cossey has taken a wonderful turn for the better. Tbey say that he will reoover."

Oh," Bhe answered, coloring a little, "and now 1 have a bit of news for you, Col Quaritch. My engagement with Mr. Edward Cossey is at an end. I shall not marry him." 'Are you sure/*1 Bald Harold, with a gasp. 'Quite sure I have made up my mind," and she held out her hand, as though to seal her words.

He took it and kissed it. "Thank God, Ida," be said. Yes," she answered "thank God,-" and at that moment tbe squire came in, looking-very miserable and depressed, and, of course, rw-iiiiiny more was said about tbe matter."

CHAPTER XXXI OaOBGB PROPHESIES AOAIX.

Six weeks bave passed, and in that time Mveral things have happened. In the first the miserly old banker, Edward Coesey's father, had died, his death having been accelerated by the shock of his son's accident On his will being opened it was found that property and money to no less a value than £600,000 passed under it to Edward absolutely, the only condition attached being that be should continue in the house of Cossey & Son, and leave a certain share of his fortune in tbe business.

Edward Oossey had also, thanks chiefly to Belle's tender nursing, almost recovered, with one exception—he was, and would be for life, stone deaf in the right ear. The paralysis which the doctors bad feared bad not shown itself. One of the first questions when he became convalescent was addressed to Belle Quest

He had, as in a dream, always seen ber sweet face banging over him, and dimly known that she was ministering to him. "Have you nursed me ever since the aoddent, Belief" be said. "Yea," she answered. "It Is very good of you, oonsidering all things," be murmured. "I wonder that you did not let me die."

And she turned ber face to the wall and said never a word, nor did any further conversation on these matters pan between them.

Then as his strength oame book, so did his passion for Ida de la Molie revive. He not allowed to write or even receive letters, and with this explanation of ber silence be was fain to content hlmanlf But the squire, be was told, often called to Inquire after him, and once or twice Ida came with him.

At length a time oame—it was two day* after he had been told of his father's death— when be was pronounced fit to be moved Into his own rooms, and to receive his correspondence as usual.

The move was effected without any difB culty, and here Belle bade him good-by, Ei-en as she did so George drove his rat pony up to the door, and getting down, gave a totter to the landlady, with partiqpkur instructions that was to be delivered into Mr. Cossey's own bands. As she passed, Belle saw that it was addressed in tbe squire's handwriting.

When it was delivered to him Edward Cr^y opened It with eagerness, ft conta an indosure in Ida's writing, and this he read first it ran as follow* "DKAK COSSET—I am told that you are now »to read letters, so 1 hasten to write to you. Ftrs* of all. let me say bow thanl I am t* you in a fs?~ way to complyj recovery frocn it dnee accident And now I must tell yen wiu$ fear will be almost as paint to to r*

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"MY

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is for mo to write, na^Uy* t— tl vment between us is at an end. To pnt matter frankly, yon will remember -t rightly or wrmjgly became engaged t_ jm on a certain condition. That coalition has not bees fulfilled, for Mr. Quest, to vfr the on ray father's property buv* been tra srmi by ywn, is preswas «*lr payment OstsseqweoUy, the oSi&gatsOft my part Is at an cad* fuad with it tw&nt must end ^s#, fiat 1 ©deve to.tt .i f* tbat it i* not me which my

erery feappbami md ptmptftiff in jwnr fotore Ute* helver* dear Mr, Coaa^jr,

wary

fEHRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MA Tlx

He put this uncompromising and crushing epistle down, and nervously glanced at tbe squire's, which was very short

DXAB COSSET," it began—"Ida has

shows me tbe inolosed letter. I think that you did unwisely when you entered into what must be a money bargain for my daughter's band. Whether under all the circumstances she does either well or wisely to repudiate tbe engagement after it has ones been agreed upon is not for me to judga. She is a tree agent, and has a natural right to other life as she thinks fit This being so, I bave, of coarse, no option but to indorse ber action, so far as I have anything to' do with the matter. It is a decision which I for reasons regret, but which 1 am quite powerless to alter.

Believe me, with kind regards, truly yours,

JAMXS OS LA

MOLLE."

Edward Cossey turned his face to tbe wall and indulged in suoh meditations as tbe occasion gave rise to, and they were hitter enough. Ho was as bent upon this marriage as be bad over been, more so in fact, now thnt his father was out of the way. He knew *hnt. Ida disliked hixn—be had known that all along—but be bad trusted to time and marriage to overcome tbe dislike. And now t'"* accursed Quest had brought about the ruin of bis hopes. Ida

bad

seen beg

of escape, and bad, like a bold woman) jaiaeduponit There was one ray of hope, and one only. He knew that tbe money would not be forthcoming to pay off the mortgages. He

see, too, from tho tone of the

squire's lettor, that be did not altogether approve of bis daughter's decision. And his father was dead. Like Csasar, he was the master of many legions, or rather of much money, which is as good as legions. Money win maiffl most paths smooth to tbe feet of the traveler, and why not this? After much thought, be came to a conclusion. Ho would not trust his chance to paper, he would plead his cause in person. So he wrote a short note to tho squire, acknowledging Ida's and his letter, and saying that he hoped to come and see them as soon as ever the doctor would allow him out of doors.

Meanwhile George, having delivered his letter, bad gone upon another errand. Pulling Tip tbe fat pony in front of Mr. Quest's office, he alighted and entered. Mr. Quest was disengaged, and he was shown straight into th» inner office, where tho lawyer sat, looking more refined and gentleman like than evor. "How do you do, Georger he said, cheerily tut down what is itf" -'Well, Sir," answered that lugubrious #brthy, as he awkwardly took a seat, "the question is, what Lent it? These be rum times, they be they faro to puzzle a man, they du."

Yes," said Mr. Quost, balancing a quill pen on his finger, "the times are bad enough."

Then came a pause, "Dash it all, sir," went on George presently, "I may as well get it out 1 have come to speak to you about the squire's business."

Yes," said Mr. Quest Well, sir," went on George, "I am told that these dratted mortgages have passed into your hands and that you bave called in tho money." "Yes, that- is correct," said Mr. Quest Hgain. "Well, sir, tho fact fa that the squire can't

&et

the money. It can't bo had nohow. Nohody wont tako the laud as security.' It might be so much water for all people will look at it.*" "Quite -so. Laud is in very bad odor as security now."

And that being so, sir, what is to be dona?" Mr. Quest shrugged his shoulders* HI de not know. If the money is not forthcoming, of course, I shall, however unwillingly, be forced to tako my legal remedy." "Meaning, sir" "Moaning that I shall bring an action for foreclosure, and do what I can with the lands."

George's face darkened." .* "And that reads, sir, that tbe squire and Miss Ida will be turned out of Honhain, where tbey bave been for centuries, and that you will turn iu."

Well, that is what it comes to, George. I am sincerely sorry to press the squire, but it's matter of thirty thousand pounds, and 1 am not in a position to throw away thirty thousand pounds." "8ir," said Georgs, rising in indignation, "1 dont know bow yon came by them there mortgages. There Is some things that laryers know and honest men dont know, and that is one of them. But It seems that you've got *em and are going to use 'em—and that being so, Mr. Quest, I have sumraut to say to you—and that Is that no good will come to you from this here move." "What do you mean by that, Georger said the lawyer, sharply. "Never you mind what I means, sir. I means what I says. I-means that sometimes people has things in tbeir lives snugged away where nobody cant see them, things as quiet as though they was dead and buried, and that aint dead and buried, things to much alive that they fare as though tbey were fit to kick tbe lid off their coffin. That's what I means, sir, and I means that when folk set to work to do a hard and wicked thins those dead things sometimes c^ts up and walks where tbey Is least wanted and mayhap if goes on for to tarn the old squire and iss Ida out of tbe castle, mayhap, sir, something of that sort will happen to you, for mark my word, sir, there's justice in the world, sir, as mayhap yon will find out And now, sir, ril wish you good morning, and leave yon to think on what I've said," andbewasgona "Georger called Mr. Quest after him, rising frem his chair, "GeoirgeP but George was out at bearing. "Now what did be mean by that—what the devil did be mean said Mr. Quest with a gasp as he sat down again. "Surelv," bo thought, *^be man cannot bave got hold of anything about Edith. Impossiltle, impossible if be bad be would bave mid mote, he would not bave eonflnert himself to hinting—that would take a cleverer man be would have shown bis band. He mast have been speaking at ran dota to frighten me, I suppose. By heavens, what a thftig it would be if be had got bold at something. Ruin, absolute ruin! Ill

Us up this business as soon as 2 can, and leave the country I cant stand tbe strain, itfs Hko having a sword over one's bead. Fve half a mind to leave it In somebody else's bands and go at ooce. Ko, for that would ok like running away. It must be all rubUsh how could he know anything about ifcf

So shaken was bo. I wgver, that though bs tried oa, and yi igain, 1 font it bnpossf„- fr* b. r, »»?f dona is* wwitill he had tak*r a o-.M: '.•, .SUMS of sherry from cvms labs

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iP«n, rolled up iff ftir, with awhile face scarred with shot marks and black rings round his large dark eyes, being helped from a 'closed carriage, he did not know who it was, and called to Ida, who was passing along the passage, to tell him.

Of oourse she reoognised her admirer instantly, and wished to leave tbe room, but her father prevented ber. "You got Into this mess," he said, forgetting how and for whom she got into it, "and now you must get out of it in your own way.

When Edward, having been assisted into ye room, saw, Ida standing there, all tbe Uood in his wasted body seemed to rush for a tew seconds into his pallid face. "How do you do, Mr. Cossey 1° "I am glad to see you out, and hope are better." "I beg your pardon, I cannot he be said, turning round "I am stone my right car."

A pang of pity shot through ber besxfc Edward Cossey, feeble, dejected and limping from tbe jaws of death, was a very different being to Edward Cossey in the full bloom of his youth and health and strength. Indeed, so much did his condition appeal to her sympathies, that for the first time since her mental attitude toward him had been one of entire indifference, she looked on him without repugnance.

Meanwhile her father had shaken him by tbe hand, and led him to an armchair before tbe fire.

Then, after a few questions and answers as to his accident aud merciful recovery, there oame a pause.

At length he broke it "I have come to see you both," he said, with a faint, nervous smile, "about tLe letters you wrote me. If my condition would have allowed it I would have come before, but it would not" 'Yes," said the squire, attentively, while Ida folded her bauds in her lap and sat still with her eyes fixed upon tbe fire. "It seems," be went on, 'that the old proverb has applied tq my case as to so many others—being absent, I have suffered. 1 understand from these letters that my engagement to you, Ida, is broken off?"'

She made a motion of assent "And that it is to be broken Off on the ground that, having been forced by a combination of circumstances which 1 cannot enter into, to transfer tbe mortgages to Mr. Quest, consequently, I broke my bargain jcith youf "Yes," said Ida. "Vory well, then, I como to tell you both that I am ready to find the money to meet those mortgages and pay them off." "All I" said the squire. "Also, that am ready to do what I offered to do before, and which, as my father is now dead, I am perfectly in a position to donamely, to settle two hundred thousand pounds absolutely upon Ida, and, indeed, generally to do .any thing else that she or you may wish," and he looked at the squire. "It is no use looking at me for an answer," said be, with some irritation. "1 have no voice in the matter."

He turned to Ida, who put her band before her face and shook her bead. 'Perhaps," said Edward, somewhat bitterly, "I should not be far wrong if I said that CoL Quaritch has morp to do with your change of mind than the fact of tbe transfer of these mortgages."

She dropped her hand and looked him full in the face. 'You are quite right, Mr. Cossey," she said, boldly. "CoL Quaritch and I are attached to each other, aud we hope one day to be, married." 'Confound that fellow Quaritch," growled the squire.

Edward winced visibly at this outspoken statement •Ida," he said, "I make one lost appeal to you I am devoted to you with all my heart— so devoted that though it may seem foolish to say so, especially before your father, I really think that I would rather not have recovered from my accident than that 1 should bave recovered for this. I will give you everything that a woman can want, and my money will make your family what it wan centuries ago, tbe greatest in the country side. I don't pretend to have been a saint—perhaps you may bave beard something against me in that way—or to be anything out of tbe common. I am only an ordinary everyday num, but 1 am devoted to you. Think, then, before you refuse me altogether." '1 have thought, Mr. Cosseyanswered Ida, almost passionately "1 have thougbt tentil I am tired of thinking, and I do not oonsidar that it is fair that yon should press me like this, especially before my father." "Then," be said, rising with difficulty, "1 have said all that 1 bave to say, and done all that I can da I shall still hope that you may change your mind Ijthall not yet abandon hope. Good-by."

She touched his iian&, and then the squire offering him his arm, he went down the steps to his carriage. *x "I hope,.Mr. de la MoUs1," he said, "that bad as things are for mo, if they suould take a turn, I shall have your support" "My dear sir," answered the squire, "I tell you frankly that I wish my daughter would marry you. As I said before, it would for obvious reasons be desirable. But Ida is not like ordinary women. When she sets ber mind upon a thing she sets it like a flint Things may change, however, and that is all I can say. Yes, if I were you, I Should remember that this is a changeable world and that women are the most changeable things In it"

When tbe carriage had gone be re-entered the vestibule. Ida, who was going away much disturbed in mind, saw him coming and knew from the expression of his face that there was going to be trouble. With characteristic courage she turned, determined to brave it out

lJS4f-

CHAPTER XXXT1

TBS BQVZMM BTMAXM KB MXXD. For a moment or more ber father fidgeted •boat, moving his papers backward and for ward, bnt saying nothing.

Here Ida's eyes Hashed ccr*— made no t-»tn:t i.-rsslf to spank.

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At last bespoke. "You bave talcen a most serious and painful step, Ida," he said. "Of oourse, yon have aright to do as yon please yon are of full age, and I cannot expect that yon will consider me or your family In your matrimonial engagements, bat at tbe arune time I think that it is my duty to point out to yon what it is that you are doing. You an refusing one ot the finest matches in England in order to marry a broken down, middle aged, half pay colonel, a man who can hardly support yon, wber** part In life Is played, or who Is apparently idle to seek

plain man, and I believe in family affection and in duty, Ida. Love, as you call it, is only too often another word for self will nud selfishness, and other things that wo are better without* "1 can understand, father," answered Ida, struggling to keep her temper under this jobation, "that my refusal to marry Mr. Cossey is disagreeable to you for obvious reasons, though it is not so very long ago that you detested him yourself. But I do not see why an honest woman's affections for another man should be talked of as though there was something shameful about it It is all very well to sneer at 'love,' but after all a woman is flesh and blood she is not a chattel or a slave £tri, and marriage is not like anything else—it means, as you must know, many things to a woman. There is no tuagic about marriage to make that which is unrighteous righteous, or that which is impure pure." "There," said her father, "it is no good your lecturing to me on marriage, Ida. If you do not want to marry Cossey I cant force you to. If yon want to ruin me and your family and youreelf you must do so. But there is one thing. Wnile it is over me, which 1 suppose will not be for much longer, my bouse is my own, and I will uot bave that colonel of yours hanging about it, and 1 shall write to him to say sa You are your own mistress, and if you choose to walk over to church aud marry him you can do so, but it will be dons without my oonsent, which of course, however, is an unnecessary formality. Do you hear me, lAkP "If you have quite done, father," she answered, coldly, "I should like to go before I say something which I might be sorry for. Of course, you can write what you like to CoL. Quaritch, and 1 shall write to him, too."

Her father made no unswer beyond sitting down at his table and grabbing viciously at a pen. So she left tho room, indignant, indoed, but with as heavy a heart as any woman could carry iu her breast "DEAR SSIB," wrote the not altogether unnaturally indignant squire,^-**! have been informed by my daughter Ida of ber entanglemeut with you. It i»one which, for reasons that I need uot outer into, is most distasteful to me, as well as* I am sorry to say, ruinous to Ida herself and to her family. Ida is of full age and must, of course, do as she pleases with herself. But I cannot consent to become a party to wbut 1

Ida* as soon as she had sufficiently recovered herself, also wrote to the ooionel. She told him tho whole story, keeping uothlng back, and ended her letter thus: "Never* dear Harold, was a woman iu a greater difficulty, and never had I more need of help and advice. You know aud have good reason to know how hateful this marriage would be to mo, loving you as I do eutiroly and alone, and having no higher desire than to bocome your wife. But, of course, 1 see tho painfuluess of the positioii. I am not so selfish as my father believes Jr says that he belioves. 1 quite understand how great would be'the material- advantage to my father if I could bring myself to many Mr. Cossey. You urny remember 1 told you once that 1 thought no woman had aright to prefer her own happiness to tho prosperity of her whole family. But, iiarold, it is easy to speak *hn*L and very, very bard to- act up to it. What am I to do? What am I to do/ Aud yet he«w can I In common fairness ask you to answer that question? God help ut both, Harold I Is thero no way out of it?"

These letters were both duly received by Harold Quaritch ou tho following morning, and threw him into a fever of anxiety ami donbt He was a just aud reasonable man, and, knowing something of human nature, under the circumstances did not altogether wonder at tbe squife's violeuoo and irritation. The financial position of the Do la Mollo family was little, if anything, short of desperate aud he could easily understand bow maddening it must be to a man like Mr. De la Molle, who loved Honliam—which had for centuries been tho habitation of bis racebetter than ho loved anything on earth, to suddenly realize that it must pass away from him and his forever, merely bscausoa woman happened to prefer one man to another, and thatto his view, the less eligible of the two. So keonly did bo realizo this, indeed, that he greatly doubted whether or no be was in oontinuing his advances to Ma Finally, aftei' much thought* he wrote to the squire as follow*: "I bave received your letter* sad also one from Ida* I hope you will believe me when I say that 1 quito understand and sympathise with tbe motives which evidently led you to write it I aiu, unfortunately—although 1 never regretted it till now—a poor man, whereas my rival suitor is a very rich one. I shall, of course, strictly obey your injunctions and, moreover, I can assure you that, whatever my own feelings may be in the matter, 1 shall do nothing* either directly or indirectly, to influence ida% ultimate decision. She must decide for herself."

To Ida herself he also wrote at length: "DKABEST IDA," be ended* "I can say nothing more you must judge for yourself and I accept your decision loyally whatever it may be. It is unnecessary for me now to tell you how inextricably my happiness in life is interwoven with that decision, but at the same time I do not wish to influit It certainly to my mind does not right that a woman should be driven into sacrificing ber whole life to secure any monetary advantage either for herself or for others, but then the world is full of things that are not right I can give you no advice, for 1 do not know what advice I ought to give. 1 try to pot myself out of the question to consider yon, and yon only but even then I fear that my judgment la not impartial At any rate, tbe lea we see of each other tbe better at present, for 1 do not wish to appear to be taking any undue advantage. If we are destined to pass our lives together, this temporary estrangement will not matter, and if, on the other hand, we are doomed to a life long separation, the sosoer we begin tbe better. it is a cruel world, and sometimes (as it dues now) my heart sinks within me as from year to year I straggle on toward a bapptnws that ever vanishes when 1 stretch out my hand to clasp it but if I feel what must yon feel who have so much more to bear? My dearest love, what can I my? I

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of so strongly, and this being tho case I must beg you to cease your visits to this house. 1 am, sir, Your obedient servant, "JAMES DE LA MOLLS."

only say with you, God help usp1

This letter did not tend to raise Ida's •pints. Evidently her lover saw that there was another side to tbe qusstk»-be side of doty, and

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with her father through the fioids down the footpath that led to the church, and it would have been hard to say which of tbe two looked tbe paler or more miserable. On the previous day the squire had had an interview with Mr. Quest, and made as much of an appeal ad misericordiam to him as his pride would allow, only to find tbe lawyer very courteous, very regretful, but as hard as adamant Also that very morning a letter had reached him from London announcing that the last hope of raising money to meet the mortgages to bo paid off had failed.

The path ran along toward tbe road past aline of oaks. Half way down this lino tbey came across George, who, with his marking instrument in his band, was contemplating "me of the trees vhich it was proposed to ake down. "What are you doing there!" said the squire, in a melancholy voice. "Marking, squire" "Then you may as well save yourself tbe trouble, for the place will belong to somebody else beforo the sap is up in those oaks." "Now, squire, dont you begin to talk like that, for I dont believe It That niut a-go-ing to happen." "Aint a-going to happen, you stupid fellow, aint a-going to happenf" answered tho squire, with a dreary lough. "Why, look there"—bo pointed to a dog cart which had drawn up on the road iu such a |Ksition that they could sec it without its occupants seeing them—"tbey aro taking notes already."

George looked and so did Ida. Mr. Quest was tho driver of the dog cart* which ho had pulled up in such a position as to command a view of the castle, and his companion, in whom George recognized a well known London auctioneer who sometimes did business in these parts, was standing up, an open notebook in his hand, alternately iooking at the noble towers of the gateway and jotting down memoranda. "D—u him, and so he be*"" said George, mtterly forgotting his manners.

Ida looked up aud saw her father's eyes fixed upon ber with an expression! that seemed to say: "See* you willful young woman, see the ruin you have brought upon us."

Ida turned away she could uot boar it, and that vory night she camo to a determination, which was in due course communicated to Harold, tuul hhn alone. That determination was to lot things bo for the present, upon the chance of something happening by means of which the dilemma might bo solved. But if nothing happened—and indeed it did not seem probable to her that anything would happen—theu she would sacrifice herself at the last moment She believed,, indeed she knew, that she could always call Edward Cossey back to her if sho liked. It was a compromise* and, like all compromises, had an element of weakness but it gave time, and time to her was like water to-the dying. "Sir," said George presently, "it's Boisingham quarter sessions the day after to-mor-row, ain't it?" (Mr. do la Molle wa» chairman of quarter sessions.) "Yes, of course It It"

George thought for a minute. "I'm thinking, squire, that if I aren't wanted that day I wuut to go up to' Lunnon aboutna bit of business." "Go up to Loudon!" said the squire-* **why, what do you want to do there! You. were in London tho other day." "Well, squire," be answered, looking inexpressibly shy* "that ain't no matter of nobody's. It'ssibitof private affairs." "Oh, all right," said the squire, his interest dying out "you aro always full of mysteries," and he continued his walk.

But George shook his fist in tho direction of tho rood down which tbe dog eart had driven. "Ah! yomdwll," he said, alluding to Mr. Quest, "If 1 dont make Boisingbam, yes, and all England, too hot to bold vote, my name ain't Georgo. I'll give you. what, for, my cuukoot that I will!"

[To be Continued.]

At a Drink In Fevers Horaford's Add PhospliiUe.

Dr. Cbas. H. S. Davis, Merlden, Conn., says: "I bave used it as an accessory iu cases of melancholia aud nervovw debility, and as a pleasant and cooling drink in fevers, and bave been very much pleased with it."

ITCHING AGONIES.

Every Night I Scratched until the Skin was Raw. -t, M/ ,1

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inortar. An awful npectaeie. l)oetor« useless. Cure hopeless. Kntlr«|jr cured by the Cutioora Kernedtes ft» tfve weeks.

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Sept 21,1887. Fell, 7, 1»W.—No trace of the disease from which I suffered bus shown Itself since my cure, G. C.

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too honest to bide it fr-rrn her.

She said that she would have ting to dowi-.i. Edward Ccewqr, but she was well a» t' li a? tn,: WasSf V:

CAN'T BREATHE.

(.'heat Pains, Sornn«#s, \V-ak-

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