Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 22, Number 17, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 17 October 1891 — Page 2

for my

CHAPTER XI. IHE tljSrd waek of YlSeptem a sf ^drawing to Itjs close when I returned to a 1 weather Lid grown cooler. a favorable report of the gradual crease ol the chohna began

to gain ground with the suffering and terrified |opu1atlon. Bu.-dues was resumed as usual, pleasure had again her votaries, and society whirled round once more in Its giddy waltz as though It had never left off dancing. I arrived in the city somewhat early in the, day. and bad time to makit so no preliminary arrangement*

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YK8! I WAS NOT MISTAKEN.

Yes! I was not mistaken, ttioro was my quondam friend, my traitorous foe, alttlug at his ease, leaning comfortably back In one chair, his feet putup on another. lie was smoking, and glancing now and thou through the columns of the Paris Figaro. lie was dressed entirely In black, a hypocritical livery, the sombre hue of which suited his tin© complexion and perfeotlyhandsome features, to admiration. On the little finger of the shapely hand that every now and then was raised to adjust his elgar, sparkled a diamond that gave out a myr lad scintillations as It flashed In the evening light it was of exceptional size and brilliancy, and even at a distance I recognised it my own property.

So!—a h»v»« nift, Signer, or an In metnoriam

of (In-

dear and valued friend

you have lo.it? wondered,—watching him in dark scron the while, then recounting myelf 1 sauntered slo vly toward him. and perceiving a di-engag-ed table next to his, I drew a chair to It and down lie looked at me indifferently over the top of his news{aper, but there wa* nothing sjw^ally attraet!vo in the si^iu of a white-haired man wearing smoke-colored spectacles, and he resumed his i*rusal of the Figaro immediately. I rapiwni the end of my

walkinjr-cane on the table and summoned a waiter from whom I ordered coffee. chair closer to mine. 1 then in a cigar and imitating ?im smoke," Ferrari's easy posture, smoked also. Something in mv attitude then appeared to strike him, for lie laid down his paper and again looked at me, this time with more ere«s and something of une»«i« ness. v':\ eusmmntce, mon ami!" I iht-isght, but I turned mv head slightly aside and fe gni*l to be absorbed In the view. My eoffne was hfossghu paid I for It as lo«-*«»d the waiter an unusually I larg« gratuity, he naturally found incumbent upon him to }«U my table

SJOPYOf ONE FORCTOTT

I secured thf

plan of action.

most splendid suite of apartments In the

And now the evening of my first day in Naples came, ami I, the supposed Con to Cesare Oliva, the envied and nattered noble, took the lirst step towards my vengeance. It was one of the lovallest evenings possible even in that lovely laud, a soft breeze blew1 in from the sea, the skv was pearl-like and pure as an opal, yet bright with delicate shifting clouds of crimson and pale mauve, small fleecy flecks of radiance that looked like a shower of blossoms fallen from some far Invisible flowertand. The waters of the bay wero slightly rufflod by the wind, and curled Into tender little dark-blue waves lipped with light fringes of foam. After my dinner 1 went out and took my way to a well-known and popular cafe which used to be a favorite haunt of mine In the days when was known as Fablo Romani. (')uldo Ferrari was a constant habitue of the place, and I felt that I should And hlin there. The brilliant rose-white and gold saloons were crowded, and owing to the pleasant coolness of tho air there were hundreds of -Huifffrwwftftrt 1 Kg1 Wl'll Off1 tllfe" able news of tho steady decrease of tho dostilonco that had ravaged tho city. I glanced covertly vet ouicklv round.

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wish extra u-n\. and to ure all the uewspajH-rs. ps serial or otherwise, that were Iving about, for the purpose of d'-^iiing tfsem in S a heap at my m*ht hami I addressed this amiable garcon I to the harsh and deliberate accent* of my carefullv disguised vole*.

Hy the way, swappcm* you know Naples well?"* "Oh. si, Slgnor!

"Kbbene, can you tell me the way to Mid, interrupt In* hita. the house of one Count Fablo Romani, a «x Yon har« guessed it exacvweaHhy nobleman of this cityr* ly. Thinks" and he look the case from "Ha! a good hit Utis Ume! Tboagh me as I returned it to him. with a frank apparently notiookinf at trim I «aw P*r- amlhk

rarl start, as thonsrh he had been stung, and then compose himself In his seat with an air of attention. The waiter I meanwhile, in answer to my question, raised his hands, eves, and shoulders all I together with a shrug expressive of resigned melancholy. 1 "Ah gran, Dio! e' raorto!"

Dead?"' I exclaimed with a pretended I start of shocked surprise. "So young? S Impossible?" I "Eh! what will you, Signor? It was la pesta: there was no remedy. La pesta cares nothing for youth or age, and spares neither rich nor poor."|

For a moment I leaned my head on my hand, affecting to be overcome by the suddenness of the news. Then looking up. I said regretfully: "Alas! I am too late! I was a friend of his father's. I have been away for many years, and I had a great wish to

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impressing the whole estab-

lishment with a vast idea of my wealth and Importance. I casually mentioned to the landlord that I desired to pur chase a carriage and horses,—that 1 needed a lirs»clast valet and a few other trifles of the like sort, and added that I relied on his good advice and recommendation as to the places where I should best obtain all I sought. Needless to say. he became inv slave, never wan monarch better served than I, the very waiters hustled each other in a rai.u to attend upon me, and reports of my princely fortune, generosity, and lavish expendltui" began flit from mouth to mouth, which was the result I desired to obtain.

young Romani whom I last saw

a

child. Are there any relations of

his living? was he married?" Tho waiter, whose countenance had assumed a fitting lugubriousness In accordance with what he imagined were my feelings, brightened up Immediately as he replied eagerly "Oh, si, Slgnor! The Countesaa Romania lives up at the Villa, though I believe she receives no more since her husband's death. She is young and beautiful as an angel. There is a little child, too."

A hasty movement on the part of Ferrari caused me to turn my eyes, or rather my spectacles in lUs direction. He leaned forward, and raising his hat with tho old courteous grace I knew so well, said politely: "Pardon me, Slgnor, for my Interrupting you! I knew the late young Count Iiomani well—perhaps better than my man In Naples. I shall be delighted to afford you any information you may seek concerning him."

Oh, the old mellow music of his voice! —how it struck on my heart and pierced It like the refrain of a familiar song loved in tho days of our youth. For an Instant I could not speak,—wrath and sorrow choked my utterance. Fortunately this feeling was but momentary— slowly I raised my hat In responso to his salutlon, and answered stiflly. "I am your servant, Slgnor. You will oblige me indeed if you can place me in communication with the relatives of this unfortunate young nobleman. Tho elder Count Komanl was dearor to me than a brother mon have such attachments occasionally. Permit me to introduce myself," and I handed him my visiting card with a slight and formal bow. He accepted It, and as he

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"Tho Con to Cesare Oliva!" ho exclaimed. "I osteom mysolf most fortunate to have mot you! Your arrival has already notified to us by tho avant-cou-rlor of tho fashionable intelligence, so that wo are well aware," here laughing lightly, "of the distinctive right you have to a hearty welcome in Naples, am only sorry that any distressing news should have darkened tho occasion of your return hero after so long an ab sonco. Permit me to express tho hopo I that It may at least bo tho only cloud for you on our southern sunjhlno!"

And he extended his hand with that roady frankness and bonhomie which are always a part of tho Italian temper amont, and wero especially so of his. A cold shudder ran through my veins. GodI could |I tako his hand in mine? I must—If I would act my part thoroughly—for should I refuse he would think it strange—even rude—1 should lose tho game by ono false move. With a forced smile I hesitatingly held out my hand also: it was gloved, yet as he clasped It heartily In his own the warm pressure burnt through the glovo like flro. I could have cried out In agony, so excruciating was the mental torture which I endured at that moment. But It passed, the ordeal was over, and knew that from henceforth I should b« able to shoke hands with him as oftin and as IndelTorently as with aty other man. It was only this first time that It galled me to the quick. Ferrari noticed nothing of my emotion—he was in excellent spirits, and. turning to the waiter who had lingered to watch us make each other's acquaintance, he ex claimed: "More coffee, garcott, and a couple of glorias." Then looking towards me. "You do not object to a gloria, Conte? Nol That is well. And here is ray card," taking one from his pocket and laying it on the tabic. "Guido Ferrari, at your service, an artist and a very poor one. We shall celebrate our meeting by drinking each other's health." "I bowed. The waiter vanished to execute his orders, and Ferrari drew

he said gaily.

I "Cao I offer you one of my cigars? They are unusually choice. Permit me," 1 and he preferred me a richly embossed and emblazoned silver efgar-ease, with I the Romani arms and coronet and my own Initials engraved thereon. It 1 was mine, of course,—I took It with a sensation of grim amusement-—I bad not I seen it since the day I died!" I "A fine antique," I remarked care* lessiy, turning Hover in my h*nd, "eu-

rious and valuable. A gift or aa heir(loom?1" "It belonged to my late friend, Count

Fablo,*' he answered, puffing a light cloud of smoke in the air aa he drew his cigar from his Hps to speak. "It was found in his pocket by the priest who saw him die*. That and other trifles which he wore on his person were delivered to his wifft. and "She oatnnUIy gave yoa Ute cifmr case as a memento of your friend, "I

My temper rose dangerously—but I controlled it, and remembering my part in the drama 1 had constructed, I broke into violent harsh laughter. "Bravo!" I exclaimed. "One can can easily see what a first-rate young fellow you are! You have no liking for moral men—, ha! ha! excellent! I agree with you. A virtuous man and a fool are synonyms nowadays. Yes—I have lived long enough to know thatl And here is our coffee—behold also the glorias! I drink your health with pleas ure, Signor Ferrari—you and I must be friends'"

Foroue moment he seemed startled by my sudden outbreak of mirth,—the next, he laughed heartily himself, and as the waiter appeared with the coffee and cog nac, inspired by the occasion, he made an equivocal,slightly indelicate joko concerning tho personal charms of a certain Antonletta whom the garcon was sup posed to favour with an eye to matrimony. The fellow grinned, In no wise offended.—and pocketing fresh gratuities from both Ferrari and myself, departed on new errands for other customers, apparantly in high good humor with himself, An ton letta and the world in general. Resuming tho interrupted conversation I said: "And this poor week-minded Romani —was his death sudden?—" "Remarkably so," answered Ferrari, loaning back In his chair, and turning his handsome flushed face up to tho sky where the stars wore beginning to twinkle out one by one it appears from all accounts that he rose early and went out for a walk on one of thoso Insufferably hot August mornings, and at the furthest limit of the villa grounds he came upon a fruit seller dying of cholera. Of course with his quixotic ideas, ho must needs stay and talk to tho boy, and then run like a madman through the heat into Naples, to find a doctor for him. Instead of a physician he met a priest, and ho was taking this priest to tho assistance of tho fruit-soll-er (who by the way died In the mean tlmo and was past all caring for), wlit»u he himself was struck down by the plague. He was carried thpu Jkltf "shrieking curses on any one who should dare to take him alive or dead inside of his own house. He showed good sense in that at least—naturally he was anxious not to bring the contagion to his wife and child." "Is tho child a boy or a girl?" I asked carelessly. "A girl. A more baby, an uninterest-ing—old-fashioned little thing, very like her father."

My poor Stella! Every pulse of my being thrilled with indignation at tho Indifferently chill way in which ho, the man who had fondled her and pretended to lovo her, now spoke of tho child. She was, as far as he knew, fatherless he, no doubt, had good reasons to suspect that her mother cared little for her, and I saw plainly that she

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MRRK BABV.

was, or soon would be, a slighted and friendless thing in the household. But I made no remark, I sipped my cognac with an abstracted air for a few seconds, then I asked. "How was the Count bnried? Yonr narrative interests roe greatly." "Oh. the priest who was with him saw to his burial, and I believe, was also able to administer the last sacraments. At any rate, be had him laid with alt proper respect in his family vault,—I myself was present at the funeral."

I started involuntarily, bnt quickly repressed myself. "Yon were present—yon—yon—* and my voice almost failed me.

Ferrari raised his eyebrows with a look of surprfSied inquiry. "Of coarse! Yon are astonished at that? But perhaps yoa do not understand. I was the Count's very closest friend,closer than a brother, I may say. It was natural, even necessary, that I should attend his body to its last resting place."

By this time I had recovered myself. "I see—I aeeP I mattered hastily, Pray excose me—my age renders me nervous of disease in any form, and I ahottld have thought the fear of contagion might have weighed with yon. •With me," and he laughed lightly. "I was never ill In my life, and I b»v« no dread whatever of cholera. I sup.

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TERES HAUTE SATODlY EVENING MAIL'

"Is the Countess Roman! young?" I forced myself to inquire. "Young and beautiful as a midsummer morning!" replied Ferrari with enthusiasm. "I doubt if sunlight ever fell on & more enchanting woman' If you you were a young man, Conte, I should be silent regarding her charms— but your white hairs inspire one with confidence. I assure you solemnly, though Fabio was my friend, and an excellent fellow in bis way, he was never worthy of the woman he married!" "Indeed!" I said coldly, as this dagger thrust struck home to my heart. "I only knew him when he was quite a boy. He seemed to me then of a warm apd loving temperament, generous to a fault, perhaps over-credulous, yet^he promised well. His father thought so I confess I thought so, too. Ee^c^ts have reached me from time to time of the care with which he managed the immense fortune left to him. He gave large sums away in charity, did he not? and was he not a lover of books and simple pleasures?' "Oh, I grant you all that!" returned Ferrari with some impatience. "He was the most moral man in immoral Naples, if you care for that sort of thing. Studious, philosophic, parfait gentilhomme,—proud as the devil, virtuous, unsuspecting, and withal, a fool!"

I ran some risk, though I never ought about it at the time—but the priest—one of the Benedictine order— ed the very next day." "Shocking!" I murmured over my cofop. "Very shocking. Aud you tuallv entertained no alarm for yourlf?"

None in the least To tell you the truth I am armed against contagious illnesses by a conviction I have that am not doomed to die of any

A prophecy"—and here

loud crossed his features—"an odd phecy was made about me when I was i, which, whether it comes true or prevents me from panic in days of plague." ^Indeed!" I said, with interest, for this news to me—"And may one ask wiat this prophecy is?—" ."Oh, certainly. It is to the effect that I^hall die a violent death by the hand of a once familiar friend. It was always an absurd statement, an old nurse's tale, but It is now more absurd than ever,

Wrapped# In these sombre musings walked beside him in profound silence. The moon shone brilliantly—groups of girls danced on the shore with their lovers, to the sound of a flute and mandoline—far off across the bay tho.souud of sweet and plaintive singing floated from some boat In the distance, to our oars—the evening breathed of beauty, peace and love. But I—my fingers quivered with restrained longing to be at the throat of the graceful liar who sauntered so easily and confidently besido me. Ah, heaven, if he only knew! If he could have realized the truth, would his face have worn quite so careloss a smile,—would his manner have been quite so free and dauntless? Steath lly I glanced at him,—he was humming a tune softly under his breath, but feel ing instinctively, I suppose that my eyes

w,

BUT T—MT PrXOKItS JtTIVKKRT WITH KBSTOAtXKD kOXGTJrO TO BE AT THE TIIBOAT OF THE ©XORATKFCT, UAB.

were upon him, he Interrupted the melody and turned to roe with the question, "Yon have traveled far and seen much, Conter "I have." "And in what country have yon found the most beautiful women?" "Pardon me, young sir," I answered coldiy, "tho business of life has seperated me almost entlrelyfrom feminine so* dety. have devoted myself exclusively to the amassing of wealth, understanding thoroughly that gold is the key to all things, even to womon'a love,—if I detired that latter commodity, which 1 do not,—I fear that I scarcely know a fair fnce from a plain one,—1 never was attracted by women, and now at my age, with my settled habits I

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sldering that the only friend of the kind ^ever had or am likely to have is dead ahd buried—namely Fabio Romani."

And he sighed slightly. I raised my head and looked at him steadily.

CHAPTER XII.

HE sheltering darkness of tho spectacles I wore prevented him from noticing the soarchiug scrutiny of my fixed gaze. His face was shadowed by a tinge of melancholy his eyes wero thoughtful and almost sad. "You loved him well then in spite of his foolishness?" I said.

He roused himself from

the penslv9 mood into which he had fallen, and smiled. "Loved him? No! Certainly not —nothing so strong as that! I liked him fairly—ho bought several pictures of me—a poor artist has always some sort of regard for the man who buys hlsworks. Yes, I liked him well enough till ho married." "Ha! I suppose his wife came between you? He flushed slightly, and drank off the remainder of his cognac in a haste. "Yes." he replied briefly, "she came between us. A man is never quite tho same after marriage. But we have beon sitting a long time here—shall we walk?"

He was evidently anxious to chango tho subject. I rose slowly as though my joints wero stiff with age, and drew out my watch, a finely jewoled one, to see the time. It was past nine o'clock. "Perhaps," I said addressing him,"you will accompany me as far as my hotel. I a* compelied to rotlre early as a rule, I ffer much from a chronic complaint of eyes, as you perceive," here touching my spectacles, and I can not endure much artificial light. We can talk further on our way. Will you give me a chance of seeing your pictures? I shall esteem thyself happy bo one of your piltrons." 44A thousand thanks!" he answered gaily.——"I will show you my poor attempts with pleasure should you find anything among them to gratify your taste, I shall of course bo honored. But, thank rfaven! I am not as greedy of patronage Jrl used to be—in fact 1 intend resigning the profession altogether in about six months or so." "Indeed! Are you coming into a forYm «*.« —si- uw -otisworOT lightly—"lam going to marry one— that is almost the same thing, is it not" "Preciselyi I congratulate you!" I said a studiously indifforent and slightly bored tone, though my heart pulsed fiercely with tho torrent of wrath pent up within it. I understood his moaning well. In six months ho purposed marrying my wife. Six months was tho shortest possible interval that could bo observed, according to social etiquette, between the death of one husband and tho wedding of another, and even that was so short as to bo barely decent. Six months—yet In that space of time much might happen, things undreamt of and undeslred—slow tortures carefully measured out. punlshmont sudden and heavy!

xy

am not likely to alter my opinions concerning them,—and I frankly confess those opinions are the reverse of favourable."

Ferrari laughed. "You remind mo of FabiO!" lie said. "He used to talk In that strain before he was married,— though he was young and had none of the experiences which may have made you cynical, Conte! Bnt he altered his ideas very rapidly—and no wonder!^ "Is his wife so very lovely then?" I asked. "Very! Delicately, daintily beautiful. But no doubt you will see her for yourself —as a friend of her late husband's father, you will call upon ner, will you not?" "Why should I?" I said gruffly. "I have no wish to meet her! Besides, an inconsolable widow seldom cares to receive visitors—I shall not intrude upon her sorrows!"

Never was there a better move than this show of utter iudiffereuce I affected. The less 1 appeared, to care about seeing the Countess Romani, tho more anxious Ferrari was to introduce in to wife! .)—aud he set to work preparing his own doom with assiduous ardor. "Oh, but you must see her!" he exclaimed eagerly. "She will receive you,. I am sure, as a special guest. Your age,, and your former acquaintance with her late husband's family, will win front her the utmost courtesy, believe me. Besides she is not really inconsolable!: ." He paused suddenly. Wo have arrived at the entranco to my liotek I looked at him steadily. "Not really inconsolable?" I repeated In a tone of inquiry. Ferrari broke into a forced laugh. "Why no!" he said. "What would you? She Is young and light-hearted,— perfectly lovely and In tho fulness of youth a do health. One cannot expect her to weep long, ospeciallyfor a man she did not care for."

I ascended the hotel steps. "Pray, come in!" I said with an inviting movement of my hand, "You must take a glass of wine before you leave. And so she did not care for him, you say?**

Encouraged by my friendly Invitation and manner, Ferrari becamo more at his ease than ever, and hooking his arm through mine as wo crossed through the broad passage of the hotel together,, he replied in a confidential tone,— .s* "My dear Conte, how can a woman love a man who Is forced upon her by her father for the sake of the money he gives her? As I told you before, my late friend was utterly insensible to tho beauty of his wife,—ho was cold as a stone, and preferred his books. Then naturally she had no love for him!"

By this timo we had reached my apartmonts, and as I threw open the door I saw that E'errarl was taking in with a critical eye tho costly flttings audi luxurious furniture. In answer to hia last remark, I said with a chilly smilo: "And as I told you before, iny dear Slgnor Ferrari, I know nothing what*ever about women, and care loss than, nothing for their loves or hatreds. I have always thought of them more or less as playful kittens, who purr when they aro stroked tho right way, and scfeam and scratch when their tails aro trodden on. Try this Montepulciano!"

He accepted tho glass I proffered him and tasted tho wino with the air of a con nolssour. ".ExaulslJtejl' ho murmured, sipping it Conte! I envy you!" "You need not," I answered. "You havo youth and health, and as you havo hinted to mo,—love all thoso things aro bettor than wealth, so people say. At any rate youth and health aro good things,—love I havo no beliof In. As for tno, I am a moro luxurious animal, loving comfort and ease boyond anything. I havo had many trials,—I now take my rest in ray own fashion." "A vory excellent and sensible fash Ion?" smiled Ferrari, loaning his head back on the satin cushions of tho easy chair into which he had thrown himself. "Do you know, Conte, now I look at you well, I Hi ink you must havo been very handsome when you wero youisg! You havo a superb figure!"

I bowed stilly. "You flatter me, Slgnor! I beliovo I never was specially hideous,—but looks In a man always rank second to strength, and of strength I have plenty yet remaining." "I do not doubt It," he returned, still regarding me attentively with an expression In which there was tho faintest shadow of uneasiness. "It is an odd coincidence, you will say, but I iind a most extraordinary resemblance in the height and carriage of your figure to that of my late friend Romani."

I poured some wine out for mysolf with a steady hand and drank It. "Really?" I answered. "I am, glad If I remind you of him,—if the reminder agreeable! Bnt all tall men are much alike so far as figure goes, providing they are well made."

Ferrari's brow was contracted in a musing frown and he answered not. He still looked at me, and I returned his look without embarrassment. Finally he roused himself, smiled, and finished drinking his glass of Montepulciauo, Then he rose to go. "You will permit me to mention yoar name to the Countess Romani, I hope?" he said cordially. "I am certain she will receive you, should yon desire it."

I feigned a sort of vexation, and made an abrupt movement of impatience. "The fact is," I said at last. "I very much dislike talking to women. They are always illogical/and their frivolity wearies me. But you have been so friendly that I will give yoti a message for the countess. If yoa have no objection to deliver It I should be sorry to trouble yon unnecessarily—and yon per haps will not have an opportunity of seeing her for some days?"

He colored slightly and moved uneasily. Then with a kind of effort be replied. **On the contrary, I ant going to #ee her this very evening. I assure yon it will be a pleasure to me to convey to her %ny greeting yon may desire to

aOb,

send."

It is no greeting," I continued

Taimly, noting the various signs of embarrassment in his manner with a careful eye. "It is a mere message, which, however, may enable yon to understand why I was anxious to see the young man who is dead. In ray early manhood the elder Count Romani did me an inestimable service. I never forgot his kindness—(my memory is extra* ordinarily tenacious of both benefits aud Injuries)—and I have always desired to repay it in some suitable man­

ner. I have with me a few jewels of almost priceless value,—I have myself collected thom, and I reserved thorn as a present to the son of my old friond, simply as a trifling souvenir, or expression of gratitude for past favours received from his family. His suddon death has deprived mo of the pleasure of fullfiling this intention,—but as the jewels are quite useless to me, I am perfectly willing to hand them over to the Countess Romani, should she care to have them. They would have beon hers had her husband lived,—thoy should bo hers now. If you, Signor, will report these facts to her, and learn lior wishes with respect to the matter, I shall be much indebted to you." "I shall be delighted to obey you," replied Ferrari courteously, rising at the same timo to take his leave. "I am proud to be the bearer of so pleasing an errand. Beautiful women lovo jewels, and who shall blame theiu? Bright eyes and diamonds go well together! A riverderciT Signor Conte! I trust we shall meet often." "I have no doubt weshall," I answered quietly.

He shook hands cord iaily -I responded to his farewell salutations with the brief coldnoss which was now my habitual manner, and we parted. From the window of my saloon I could see htm sauntering easily down the hotel stops and thence along the street. How I cursed hi in ivs he stepped jauntily on,—How 1 hated his debonair grace and easy manner! I watched the even poise of his handsome head and shoulders, I noted tho assured tread, the air of conscious vanity,—tho whole demeanor of the man bespoke his perfect self-satisfaction and his absolute confidence In the brightness of the future that awaited him,when that stipulated six months of pretended mourning for my untimely death should have expired. Once as he walked on his way ho turned aud paused,--looking back.—he raised his hat to enjoy the coolness of thebroezo on ills forehead and hair. The light of tho moon fell full on his features and showed them in profile, like a finely-cut cameo against the dense dark-bluo background of the evening sky. I gazed at him with a sort of grim fascination.—the fascination of a hunter for tho stag when It stands at bay, just before he draws his Knife across its throat, lie was In my power, he had deliberately thrown himself In the trap I had set for Mm. He lay at the mercy of one in wltom there was no mercy. Ho had said and done nothing to deter mo from my settled plans. Had he shown tho least tenderness of rocollection for me as Fabio Roman!, his friend and benefactor, had ho hallowed my memory by one generous word, had he expressed one regret for nty loss, 1 might havo hestltated,. 1 might have* somewhat changed my course of action so that punishment should have fallen more lighthly on him than on her. For I knew well enough that she, my wife, was the worst sinner of the two. Had sho chosen to respect, herself, not. all the forbidden low in the world could hav» touched her honor. Therefore the '.east sign of compunction or affection from

Ferrari for me. his supposed dead friend, would, have turned the scale In Ills favor, and In spite of his treachery, remembering how she must, have encouraged hitiK 1 would at least havo spared him torture. Hut no sign had boon given, no word had been spoken, there was no need for hesitation or pity, and I was glad of It! All this I thought -S,j. I tiiviiUlii^ In the moonlight on his way to—whom? To my wife, of course. 1 knew that well enough, lie was going to console her widow's tears—to soothe her aching heart,—a good Samaritan In very earnest! He moved, lie passed slowly out of my sight. 1 waited till I had seen the last glimpse of his retreating liguro and then I left tho window satisfied with mv day's work. Vengeance had begun. 17s bi Continued.)

"I don't like the breath of that stove!" exclaimed little Ethel one day when the gas was escaping from the sitting-room stove. Coal-gas is like the "perfumes of India," compared with the breath of a person afflicted with catarrh, but among many other symptoms tho «en«o of smell Is often (leadened, so the sulteror Is nnconHclous of theoflenslvenessof his presence. Why any ono will endure »uch a painful, dangerous and offensive disease, when Dr. Sago's Catarrh Kemedy —costing only 50 ceuts—will cure the most stubborn case, is ono of tho many mysteries. Tho proprietors are so confident of the success of this Catarrh Kemedy. that they offer to forfeit $500 for any case they cannot cure. It. would be suicide for their remedy, for them to make thin offer, unless thev understood its exact powers.

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all ftkin eruption*, and positively cures Plies, or no pay required. It Is guaranteed to glv# perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. per box. For s«de by nil drugglmta.

25c.

Mil**' Nerve and Liver JMJ1*. Act on anew principle—regulating tbe liver stomach and bowels Ihrwiah the verve*. A new discovery. Dr. Miles' I'lllsnpeedlly cure biliousness, bad taste, torpid liver, piles,eon* *tlnation. tJtieoualed for men, women and children. Hmaflest, mildest, surest! 50 doses. 2fi •»«. Ham pie* Free at all druggists.

SCROFULA

Is that impurity of the blood which produces unsightly lamps or swellings In the neck which causes running sores on the arms, legs, or feet which develops ulcers In the eyes, ears, or nose, often causing blindness or deafness which is the origin of pimples, cancerous growths, or "lmmors which, fastening upon the longs, causes consumption and death. It Is tbe most ancient of all diseases, and very few persons are entirely free from it.

CURED

By taking Hood's SarsapariJla, which, by the remarkable cures it has accomplished, has proven itself to be a potent and peculiar medicine for litis disease. If you suffer from scrofula, try Hood's Barsaparilla. "Every spring my wife and children have been troubled with scrofula, my liuie boy, three years old, being a terrible sufferer. Last spring he was one mass of sores from bead to feet. We all took Hood's Sarsaparilla, and all have been cured of the scrofula. My little boy is entirely tree trota sores, and all fear of my children look bright and healthy.'* W. B, Arcnarrojr, Passaic City, N.J.

Hood's Sarsaparilfa

SoMbysndmtsisto. fl-.tAxtorfii. Tnpm by a I. HOOD CO, ApoUmadM. haw^CZm.

IOO Doses One Dollar