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Y ALL EIGHTS RESERVED. Y |
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Y ALL EIGHTS RESERVED. Y | THE MAN OF THE j | CRAG. I T BY a Author of "A Bid for Fortune, "Dr. Nikola," "In + <> Spite of the Czar," "The Bed Eat s Daughter, <> | guy boothby. t £ Wortd | ] CHAPTER I. 5k 653 TOy heart! how well I can remember Siihf <^ay" Though so many years have elapsed I am about to record took all comes back to me as if it were By the way, I often wonder many 0f us realise the true value or fining of Time. Day succeeds day, and night °Waiiig41t, and each midnight sees another ^"ed-for, but, nevertheless, tangible 1011 of our life east aside into the dustt- of Eternity, yet it fails to strike us that have missed anything. L»eit us suppose, J'nsbaffloe—but there, I aim forgetting my- 1 did not sift down to moralise, so, with Aftif11' Derniis^i«,n, I will get on. with my yarn °ttt further preamble. j* and foremost my name is Graham. J^ison, and, if it is of any interest to you noiw it, at the time that this story oom- I was within a month of my thirtieth ^"Wufcay, By profession I was a lawyer. I Was»" for the reason that I have long ceased to practise, and for reasons tale I have to toll will shortly 6 apparent to you. There have been ^^otls in our part of Westmorland from e ^ameanorial, and certaanly for the last ^r)tury and a hialf they may be said to have resented the legal profession in that ^ote district; and, strange though it may ^>ea'r> have not only represented it, but, jjj. is perhaps more important, have to derive a competency frotm it. We a long-lived race, as are eo many of the ^^lers in that bleak, and, as some people Tv^01* so,mewhat inhofpitable, region. i begin, with, it was a bitterly cold, in-- s' in the middle of November. It was also In five, which fact necessitated dress- by candle-light and shaving with water <\it was not far removed from freezing. For minutes I deliberated as to whether I get up at ail; evemtaa/lly, however, I to make the attempt. How little v ^reaon them, that tine momentary exhibi- mental force was destamed to affect entire current of my after life! Some general has put it on record that there Ia Uo couasage like two o'clock in the morning tourage aIld I, for one, aan quite disposed to with. >i"i. x drew up my Wind and ^d out of the wrndo<w. But I could see To employ a ooilloqaiaiiani, the out- df3 world was as black aa my hot. From room, overhead oame the snores of my ktJourmaid a sensible, mat.ter-d-fa.ot. per- who would as soon have thought otf get- .11g up before daybreak on a, wanSesr s morn- in oi-der to go hunting as she would of ^faking my mother's beautiful old china in dining-room. with the ooal hammer. For first time m my Me, I think. I envied i»er. ^vea- tihoi details of dressing I must ^w a wai, for I fear my language a* times WDa scarcely Barliaaaeintary My fingers were frozen to thedr tops, a.nd. as is uauad. under to be either too large OT too small for its a"espow ve buttomhole. Tliis, in itoelf. was "etarceiy oondaeive to good tamper even in a (philosopher. Nor were matters improved (When I descended the stairs to the dining- i room to find that my worthy parlourmaid, Who, ae I liave aaid, was steeping the sleep of the just, had omitted to provide i for iny tea.. By the tune X had dis* ^°*ered it in the larder, and had tirod)deai on huusahold oaA in so dOing, to say nothing of upsetting a. basin of haif-tpozea etook over gaiters, I had come to the concdaaaon huntone and mouaitaflai-olim'bing in par- ^lar are vastly overrated amuBe*ie>nto. 'tat om earth, I asked my sell, possessed t.h-e,111 to have suoh e-axly -ta? Why couild tlhty not wait, uaizil nuid-day, or, at any rate, 1lI1,:U the sun—always provukjd there is bUll, '^ich as often as not is miseding in. our la.U- ^de—had had time to waran the earth? To v1"3,8 a poor wretoh ftroan his bed at the un- ■°°iy hour of live-thirty should surely be Inade a criinujial off ajid be panasihai>le as slle.h. With the unneoesaory haste thaIt a maji is j apt to pujt into such matters I belted my tea d bjxjad and butter, and then, dooming a auid overooat, and taking a. stout stick J? My hamd, I opened the fronct door and ^^fed out into the world. for the flatter of the small waterfall behind the °uee not a soumd was to be heard. For all could tell to the contrary, I nright have the only living being on the fiaice of our J^Het at that moment. And here let mo t0 offer an explanation. As I have no to sail under latee oodoars, it is neoes- 7?^ that I shouild do eo. lo begin with, I have talked a/bout hunting, as you have doubtless observed, I have •^de no mention, of a horse. The fact of the jitter is, a horse is the kist animal repaired In. such a. country ae ours. If he were endowed ^ith the claws of a cat, the agility of puma, Q.nd the »ti.m,i«.ny poweffs of a Himalayan grey .a,, it is just possible he niight be of some but as he does not appear to possess ■^<*56 he is useless so far following' the chase is concerned. When becomes necessary to climb the bare face f Precipices such as would entitle one to aDta,De,te for Alpine honours, it is necessary k rely upon one's own legs, feet, amd hands r a^-sdstanoe. For us there is no crowding gates, no racing for gaps, no daring feats horsemanship. It is a question of each n for himself, and if he wishes to find his o() run into it can only be by his own 'J.Qdd.ed exertions. I l'he meet on this particular morning was £ *t Mervyn House, distant some five mites or ,*? from my abode. It was a favourite loc&r ."ty, -aaid we were as certain of finding a. fox Q'8 we were that, old Jimmy Grayson, the ¡ would be on hand pqxnc- ^a.1 to the moment, and with the full deter- ^nation—for he was an arbitrary old fallow ^Dot to wait for any.body, even if it were Royalty Itoelf. He had hunted the pac-k for qnarter of a century, and was popularly ÐU.D to know every rock and stone, every ~°X, vixen, and cub witihin thirty miles of his gates. He was tho possessor of a keen ready wit, and sad indeed would be the *°t of the reckless MidivadxBal who shouiid tempt to be faoerdous with the old man, 1116 tongue was as keen as a two-edged use of if. Once outside my own gates I turned to my •eft hand, and beaded ji,way along the high r*Xxi in the direction of Mervyn House, a fine r*Xxi in the direction of Mervyn House, a. fine \()1d mansion situated ()11. a. pteteau at the foot ¡ one of the krfteeet hills in the district. Ihe family who own it ha.ve lived there since tittle immemorial, but as this is the only I ^xaskm on which they make their appear- bnoe in my story I need mot do more thaon 27aenuca them in passting. TJp to withiai a "Ow montfes of his death-and be died at the fcipe age of eevemty -three—the oold squire was a oorusistesit follower of the ohaoo, and uoot"cely- it ever, miBsed a meet. It was a fine ftcbat to see him oMmfafeng the hillsides in **wnpaai<y with, his three stalwart ouns and bamdBOime daughters, cheering the .^oands on with a voa-ce as clear as a *ftad springing from roek to rook with all the aaxioar amd almost the agiSdty of a boy tfwwffBfey. Atlas! there are few of his sort ¡to be met wdth nowadays. Two miles or so from my destmatdon I foaused to watch the sun riee ahove the hill- tops. Never m my remembrance can I recall fc-ttytfaing to equal the iwotore I had pre- dated to me. The stars bad long since paled the easrt, amd now a soft grey light was weginndng to oyerapræd the heavens, ^loreasdsig in beanty mimrte by mkiute until I tt parboofo of the coLours of a mother-of- fcoairfl sheil WiItil siu t ie gradaAkms it spread the vallery—toaAing a partch of purp-le ^eattoea: here, a seam of rod sandstone there, fiaBQuLng rz)au reed-bordered tarn, and anon l'i'J.Îng a stretch of dreary moariaad a beauty %h" no one would have credited it wrth at "ny other time. It was a wonderful morn- fcg. aaud I was in a position to appreciate it WA proper vatae. I suppose even a. proaaic '"Owywr may iadnlge in daydreams ooca- *oaHy. I antly know that that marnang's danm was the opening of a new life for me. ,xou AraM presently beaIr why. Suddenly the son made has svpipeairaooe ■"bore the exnixmAt of the hsHs, and as he did e ths who4e world, ao it eeemed to me, woke k I a lark rose from the bracken and soared up and up into the blue dome, while in the dis- tance I could see a hare lolloping quiet y away across the Fell as if there was no such thing as a hound in all the countryside. As there was plenty of time to sipare, I lit my pipe, and, leaning on the bank, gave myself up to a consideration of masters mral. lnis was my own land, the country in which I had been bred and born. To many people it might have seemed narrow and circum- scribed, but to me it wus ,if I may so express it, just part and parcel of my life. With the exception of those miserable three years when I had perforce been compiled to study law in London I had never left my native county, and perhaps that was why every stick and stone, every rood of soil, was so familiar and so dear to me. My home life was as happy as any man could wasto to know. Possibly my tastes amd desires were easily gratified. Be that as it may, however, I had no desire to change. A devoted mother. a comfortjaiiylti .house, 8111 assured income, and I a very fair variety of aportr-wbat more ooold mortal man wish for? He would, indeed, h-a-ve bean hard to please who should have asked for anything better. As for thinking of marrying, it had never entered my head. I was perfectly contest to remain as I was, and until Miss Right-if such a person existed —should chance to cross my path I was quite prepared to possess my soul in patience and to remain in a state of single blessed- ness. I was still occupied with these thoughts when the sound of voices broke upon my ear, and, taming to look back upon the way I had come, I discovered old Jimmy Grayson, his subordinate, and his pack not forgetting the four half-'bred Bedlangton terriers coming towards me. I am not going to pre- tend that they showed anything remotely resembling the stylishness of the Qnorn or the Pytchley, for they certainly did not, but I am prepared to aæoeTt-amd I don't ca.re who disputes it-that they, as a pack, would live and hunt where the more fashionable represen.tatives of their race would lie down and die. Hardy would be no name for their condition. Tfhere was not one among them but was a mass of bone, muscle, and sinew, capable of humting from dawn till dusk, of climbing the sheer faces of precipices, and of pulling down a fox om the topmost summit of Scawfell if need should arise. "Good morning, Jimmy," I said to the old man as he touched his cap to me. "You can't complain that I am not up to time this morning." Old Jimmy, I slhoaild here observe, was pro- verbially hard to please. He liked nothing better than a good field, but, as I have already emd, he would not have allowed any- one to keep him waiting even for a minute. "It's pla-stai that ye've left your blankets early this morn," he wsw gracious enotegh to my; but he quaiifled his ptanase by adding, "I etrppoee it's the breakfast at the squires ye're thinking of." This retort was so unexpected that for the moment I did not know what reply to make to it. "I was not thinking about anything of the sort," I answered angrily. "You jump to oon- cAusiops too quickly, Jimmy. By the way, I see one of your tenaeirB is lame. I thought I had him on the riposte, and I was pleased when I saw that his natvmd-T face wrinkled like a cnaAxupple under the strain of Ïtt. • "La-taau, is it?" he retorted, his voice rising almost to a. acreeoh. "Wa-Ail, wa-al, I suppose folk alkts will judge by 'pea.ra;noes-wbether they be lawyers or what-not." He gave a call to his hounds, and proceeded down the road at a. briSk trot, for all the world as if he scorned to have anything more to do witih me. I was not going to be aban- doned in this fashion, however, so I set off in pursuit, and in & few mdnutes we had settled our differences, and were as good friends as ever. Strange and wonderful indeed were toe stories the old man had to tell—that is to say, when he could be induced to teH them. He know nothing of the world beyond his own immedaate district, but that Little world was so engrossing, so full of interest, that it held one spellbound. CHAPTER H. As tihe stable clock at Mervyn House struck eight we entered the gates, to find the owner, his sons and daughters, some two dozen of the neighbouring gentry, and perhaps half that number of fanners, awaiting our coming. Old Jimmy knew everyone, and had a Oramberland quip for each—as rough and ready as himself. All offers of breakfast he declined. He had paa-takon of his meal before break of day, and would touch nothing more save a bite of bread and cheese until he returned to the kennels at nightfall. "Bless us, Jimmy, yon be lookin' as hale and hearty as e'er a one of us to-day," said a burly farmer who had just come up. "Maybe, miaybe," replied the old man; and then, with a cock sparrow-like twist of his head, he added: "Ye look 'ale and 'earty yer- self, Farmer Brown, that I cam see, but I'll wait till I talk to ye t'fwfiher side of Grim- sihiaw Pikes atfore I know whether it be genuine or no. Flesh is but grass, the good Book says, but mountains is mountains, and they wamts olimbm' as such." The fatmer knew better than to continue the discussion, Like many another he stood in considerable awe of the old huntsman, cund had a very huma.n aversion to being made to look ridiculous in tJhe eyes of his asso- ciates. On that point I could quite sympa- thise with him. "Well," said the square, when we had given the late arrivals something like a quarter of an boor's grace, "I think we had better get to work, James. It looks as if we are all here." The oM man touched his cap, amd. calling TFp his hounda, with the couple of pairs of terriers, set off for the hillside, where we were confidently assrared a fox awaited us. Our hopes were not destined to be ciisaip- pointed, for after a couple of casts B-eynaxd broke cover and set off at a racing pace up 'I the mountain, the honjids following in hot pursuit. For the next ten minutes or so I find it difficult to iernembefr what happened. The only thing wthioh appeared to be of alny ¡ sort of importance was a desire to be with the hounds, if passible, and when I siay that j tiie going was weHl-migh as steep as the roof I of a house you will be able to appreciate I in a measure the difficulties with which we J were confronted. Up a.nd up he went—the hounds, now running mute, anon bursting into melody, and the wdry old huntsman always in view, one moment breast high in bracken and the next silhouetted against the sky upon some crag that at first glance appeared almost insurmountable. Away to the right the genial squire and his family were making good work of it, but the majo- rity of the field after the first mile began to roill cut wofully. As for m,(-,thanlis to a hardy frame amd a vigorous constitution—I was able to hold my own with the beet of them. At the same time, it must be con- fessed that I was not altogether haippy until I had got what is somewhat strangely termed my second wind. After that I felt as if I could go on well-nigh for ever. Above us the summit of the hill was shrouded in mist, but below was all bathed in sunshine. Indeed, so warm was it that I begain to regret having put on such tbick clothing. From the way in which the fox was head- ing it was evident tha-t we were in for a long and stern chase, of which but few of us would be likely to see the end. Leaving the hillside on which we started him, we crossed the valley a.nd commenced the ascent of Jb^acknell Biss. Here the climbing became more and more difficult, but still oM Jimmy, with an endurance amd pertinacity that was little short of marvellous, managed to keep within shooting distance of bis hounds. Ho-w he did it none of us could say, but his pre- sence was there to speak for itself. Once more the fox took a turn to the left, and then, changing his mind, commenced to descend the hill into the valley again. Tbe hounds, now running mute, streamed a/fte.r him, and, scarcely knowing whether to be grateful or sorry for the change in the pro- graNmiM, we followed in their wako. Across the valley we went again, only to discover that Master Seyuard had once more cthanged his mind, a.nd this time wa« evidently head- ing for Eaw Fell, one of the roughest and moot desolate spots in all the countryside. Let him but once get there, and we knew he would be lost to UE3 for good and all. At present, however, the question was whether he would reacJh it or not. The psick was making excellent going over the compara- tively open ground, and, hill fox though ho was, he soon began to find that it was neces- ) sary for him to irat his best foot foremost if he hoped to gave his brush. At the end of the narrow valley he started to akimb the hill once more. Hardy though f he was, the pace at which he had up to that time been travelling bega/n to teN upon him. Even to aa-re his life he could not keep it ( up for ever, amd the hounds were momen- tarily graining on him. Fortune, however, favoured him in an unexpected fashion, for Jn&& uhm eweryTimg seamed hoDeleM so £ ar as he was oaD cetmed, the thick mist desoealded on the valley, blotting out everything— hound, fox, and field-as effectually as if they were all covered with an impenetrable grey blanket. Only a moment before all had been brilliant snnshine, now it was well-nigh inrpossible to see a yard in front of one's face. The most uncanny part of it was the silence. It was as if one were suddenly cut off and were stamding apart from the rest of the world. The murmur of a little stream some yards away to my right was the ono sound I could hear. Only those who know the lake district can have any idea of the suddenness with which these mists descend, and how dense it is possible for them to be. I can assure you it is no joke to be caught in one of them, especially towards evening, when, as likely as not, it ma.y be necessary to remiain in one spot all night for fear of accident. It was in vaiin that I strove to locate the hounds, or to satisfy myself as to my approxi- ma.te position. I might as well have tried to square the circle—or to discover the secret of perpetual motion-for any success that rewarded me. Minutes went by—possibly a I quarter of an hour elapsed—but still the fog showed no signs of lifting. I dared not go forward on the chance of finding somebody, for before the fog had descended on us I had noticed that th-ore was a deep ghyH, or ravine, a hundred yards or so ahead of me. To walk into that would possibly mean broken, limbs, which in such a lonely spot would be well-nigh as bad as, if not possibly worse than, death itself. I reoalled. the stories I had heard of men walking over pre- cipic in the mist, to lie with broken limbs, starving, suffering, and praying, hour by hour, for the coming of merciful King Death. I accordingly slat me down on a boulder to wait, with what patience I could command, the lifting of the fog. At last I could 00a;r. it no longer, so I determined, at any hazard, to move cautiously forward, feeling my way step by step, and never advancing a foot until I had made quite sure tha-t it was safe to do ro. I was still proceeding in this care- ful fashion Wheal something reached my ears that brought me to a standstill wit'h sur- prise. Lt was the sound of someone crying, and in the silence of the mist it hnd a peculiarly weird effect. As I paused to listen it stopped, but re-commenced a moment or so later. I tried to locate the sound, but found it difficult to do so. First I felt sure that it had come from my riglrt, then it seemed to be on my left, after which it would change to directly ahead. Once more I began to advance, calling as I did so to the woman. -for a woman's voice it certainly was—not to lose heart, for I was coming to her assist- ant. "I am here," said the voice in return. But I found it as difficult as before to dis- cover where that "here" might be. It was a Will of the Wisp voice, and, coming as it did out of the grey silence, it was indefmib- aMy uncanny. Indeed, in all my experience of fogs upon the Fells I don't know thaot I can recall ever hearing amything like it. "Am I near you ;nøw?" I cried, after I had proceeded soarte ten or a. dozen careful paces. A moment later the person I was in search of oame into view. t "I camrot tell," was the reply, and the voice still sounded as far away as ever. "Here I am, siitt-ing on a rock. I cannot see aaiyfahing, and I am afradd I have broken my ankle." This time I was certain it came from the right, and I aocordtingly moved cautiously in that directbion, Btlill calling as I went. "Am I near you now?" I bellowed, and in answer a voice not more than a few feet distant from me replied as before, "Here I am." So dose, indeed, was it that it giave me quite a start of surprise. A moment later the person I was in search of came into view. As she said, she was seated on a rock, framed in mist, which gave her a curiously ethereal appearance. It was not until I was within a yard and a htilf of her that I was able to see her face. So far as I could tell she was a, stranger to me— which, in itself, was curious, for I thought that I knew everyone in our somewhat sparaely- popuiated district. Her age could not have been more than four or five aaid twenty. She wae well, I might also add stylishly, dressed in some grey homesp'un material, which har- monised well with the swirling mist around her. On her head she wore a neat little cap of the same material as her dress, and in it I ,was stuck a white fea/ther, that glittered with moisture as if embroidered with so many seed pearls. That she was not only a lady, but .a, dec-idedly pretty girl, there could be no doubt. When I discovered her, how- ever, her taJce was racked with jxiiii., and tears were oouTsmg down her checks. "I thought I should never find you," I said; and then added, "I trust you are not in much pain." oiiy ankle hurts me terribly," she answered. "I fear I mu?t have broken it. I trod upon what I thought was a firm rock, just before the fog oatme down, and it turned over with r me. How I am to get home I do not know. Do you think the fog will iasit much longer?'' "It is impossible to say," I answered. "It may lift in a few moments, or it may last for several hours. PosaiMy this is your first experience of a Fell must? "It is, and I sincerely trust it may be my last," she replied, with conviction. 'XT,ntil I hoard your voice I was terribly frightened. I had begun to think I should never come out of it alive. What I should do 1 could not think. I cannot bear to touch the ground with my foot, and if the fog did not pass j a.w.ay there did not seem anything for it but to remain where I was and starve. ^AThntc-ver induced me to come out with the hounds I cannot think- "You must net take such a gloomy view of the situation," I said. "Since I have found you I feel sure I shall be able to help you. Before we do anything further, however, let me give you some of this. It will put fresh life into you." So saying I produced from my pocket my flask, without which I never go out hunting, and poured some of the brandy it contained into the little silver cup. She drank it, but not without a grimace. The effect, however, soon became apparent. She ceased to firemhle, and her sobs discontinued as if by magic. But something, I knew, must be done for the injured limb before it grew too stiff for manipulation. A life spent among the Fells has given me an insight into a sort of elementary surgery, and this I was now called upon to put into practice. That she had not broken her ankle, as she supposed, I soon convinced myself, but that the sprain was a. severe one there could be no sort of doubt. The ankle was very much, swollen, and it was quite apparent to me that it would be out of the question for her to walk even a few yards. Wha.t, therefore, was to be done? The only thing for me to do would be to get her to her home as best I cou.ld, even if I were compelled to carry bsr. I explained the position to her, and asked her where she lived. "My grandf ather has lately taken the place called the Crag," she answered. "And I keep hemse for him. It was against his advice I caine out to-day, amd I am well punished for my obetinacy. I don't know what he win say when he sees what has happened to me. I am afraid he will be very upaet, for he loves me so dearly." "You could not help your accident," was my reply to this speech. "You did not sprain ) your ankle in.tesn'tiorKs.lly, aa he will surely see." I remembered now having heard that the d'ismai old mansion, called the Crag had, after a long period of desuetude, found a tenant, but I had no idea, of the tenant's identity. It was by no means a cheerful ( place, standing as it did some distenee baok from the main road in a wild and desola,te position far removed from amy other dwell- ing. It had originally been the property of an eccentric old main, reputedly a miaer, who had died there under somewhat peculiar cir- cumstamoes. Since his death the house had remained unoccupied, no one in the district caring to take it, «cji at the low rental the old man's executors, a firm of London soldci- tors, wore asking for it. To find that at liast it was inhabited caused me some little snir- prise. I certainly did not envy this beauti- ful girl her life in such a house. Its dulnees would have palled even upon a hermit. Having borrowed her handkerchief I bound up her ankle in order to give it what support I could, and then felt that it was impossible to do more. The fcg showed no signs of breaking, and at the lowest compu. tation I knew that wo must be at least three miles from her abode. To attempt to ca.rry her such a distance, and over such rough country, would, I knew, be worse than use- less, amd yet I dared not leave her where f_,bü was while I went for asswsitaiice; foT, should the mist not clear away, it was quite within the bounds of possibility that I should be unable to find her again. She muLst liave noticed the trouble On my face, and have defined the reason that produced it, for pre- sently she said: "I am afraid I am giving you a great deal of trouble, but I really don't know what I am to do. Would it he possible for you to reach the nearest villa^o and get the people to send me help? That is the only thing I can think of." "I am afraid it is out of the question at present," I answered. "We must wait until it becomes clearer. It would be madness to make the attempt while the fog is as thick as it is just now. We must possess our souls in patience, a.nd make the best we can of a bad job. My only regret is that I cannot do more to ease your pain." • u.n, never mind that," she said, with assumed cheerfulness, "What cannot be cured, you know, must perforce be endured. As a matter of fact, I really don't think it hurts me so much since you tied it up." Acting up to my intention of ma-king the best of affairs, I seated myself on another boulder some three or four paces distant from her, and prepared to beguile the time with conversation. I began by telling her who I was—which information, since she had never heard of me, could not have proved of much interest to her. In return, however, I elicited the fact that her name was Christina Farquiharson, that she was by birtih an Aus- t-alian. that her father and mother were both dead, and that, she had come home to England six months before to act as house- keeper to her grandfather, an old gentleman now nearly eighty years of age. What had induced the latter to take the Crag I was una.hie to discover, but that the place was die-tasteful to her admitted of no doubt. After the almost perpetual sunshine, the gloom and silence of that queer eld house must have been depresa&n^ to a degree. Yet she did not complain. She had plainly a high sense of what she considered was her duty towards her aged relative, and it would ■have been clear to the meanest intelligence that she was resolved to carry that duty through at any cost to her awn happiness. that she was resolved to carry that duty through at any coat to her own happiness. Suddenly she uttered a, little cry, whicb could only have been one of pleasure, amd my eyes followed the direction in which she pomted. Our luck had turned at laat. The sun was shining thruugh the mist, and our enforced captivity was at an end. What was I to do now ? (To be continued.)
LANDLADY AND BARMAID.
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LANDLADY AND BARMAID. H WE- ARE NOT SAFE IN THIS PLACE." Mr. Fenwick, sitting at Bow-street Londn-n Su fbe,ore ,"T mS: snail, wife of one of the proprietors of the Bedford Head Hotel, Strand, who is charged pS a canons with maliciously wounding iL try Hoj>3an6' a barmaid formerly employed at the hotel. ruieny Prosecutrix alleges that as she was goirr upstairs to bed on the early morning of gep- temoer 8, defendant's husband kissed her and that defendant then appeared upo- the scene, caught her by the throat, r™Jhe bea4i ™th a wasTarrS. Complainant, re-called and further cross- examined, said that after the alleged a^t Marshal T^J>lMLC>tlH5r barmaids that Mr. Marshall had kissed her. The other eirl remarked, "We are not safe in this place. Witness J^s Quite sure the blow she received 1** This was her firrt situation as a barmaid. otM»;J^pki:n6 f.TmplaiTxaTlt's mother), laying ocitley, said that in consequence of a telegram she went to the Bedford Head Hotel and found her daughter in bed. Mrs. Var- B»a,l said the complainant had occi- dentahy fallen downstairs. Witness wished t u ,Kho were allowed to mnain sje would be provided with every- thing necessary, and, on her recover? £ made head barmaid at a good sall^' lu>r way .uome witness was spoken w of the barmaids and someone else and result of what she was told, the hotel the same evening with Dr W-.f i the. family doctor. lTpo^ his ^Z Zm- forTf^h^ b°me' aCd 8116 wa* bed Or. J. G. V. Sapp sa,id Mias Hopkins called upon him on tuc morning in question. She had a r.oan-cut wound on the left side of the forehead, and witness dressed it. The hearing was again adjourned.
IBLACKMAILER OF WOMEN.
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I BLACKMAILER OF WOMEN. I NURSE ROBBED OF HER SAVINGS. "It is clear prisoner lias pursued a life of fraud by preying on young servant*. It is renders ifT0' T a kind which renders it necessary for society to be relieved of the prisoner for some time. He tude 6 under&° flve y«^ra' penal servi- Thus the Recorder at the Old Bailey m Frederick Pickard, a young man of no known address. Under promise of marriage, the prisoner induced Florence Lud- 0 low, a Knightsbridge nurse, to withdraw £ 115 from a savings bank, which he took from her on the pretence that he would put it in the Bank of England. He kept her waiting outside St. Paul's Cathedral half an hour, saying that he had gone to see tho Bishop of London about their marriage, and never returned. The police aid the prisoner bad undergone twelve months' imprisonmcnt for a similar offence. He was mixed Up with gambling, I I and had been a blackmailer of women. In one instance a jxmng woman had gone in fear of her life of him.
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2=7- You cannot possibly have a better Oocoa than I EP S'S GHATETUL-COMFORTINa COCO ¡ You will find it the very Cocoa yjeu want.
-------LAUGH & GROW FAT ..
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LAUGH & GROW FAT HUMOROUS PARS FROM EVERYWHEHE Conceited Actor: You should have seen the audience sitting open-mouthed when I was playing Hamlet last night. Critic: It must; be dreadful to see an entire audience all yawning at once. What caused the trouble between Benson and his wife? Thej- got into a, row over a, motor-car." "I didn't know they owned one." "They didn't. But she wanted one!" Mike: Kin yure woife cook as good as yure mother used to, Pat: She cannot; but I niver mention ut. She kin throw considerable betther. Gerald: As it is to be a secret engagement, it would not be wise of me to give you a ring. Geraldine: Oh, but I could wear it on the wrong hand. Beautiful Widow: Do you know, I'm forty years old to-day? Gallant Bachelor: Madam, you are just twenty-five J never believe more than half of what I hear. Outside a railway station in London the cabmen were busy waiting for fares, when up came one of their number with a hat on that nearly covered him. "Hullo. Bill!" one remarked. "Come out of that tent!" Bill looked supremely indifferent; but his indifference changed to indignation when a. street boy drily inquired: "Hi. guv'nor! Have you paid for that hat you're wearin'?" Bill muttered something, to which the urchin replied: "'Cos if you ain't, then I'm blowed if you ain't over head and ears in debt! The tramp still tarried at the door, a. most disreputable object. "Well, what do you want?" said the master of the house, sternly. "Please, sir," whined the beggar, "I'm look- ing for work. Have you any ecrubbin', or washin', or cleanin', of any kind whatso- ever?" The master paused, thinking how mistaken he had been in imagining the tramp was a lazy vagabond. "No on-e," he said, "would have thought you wanted work of that kind." "No more do I," whined the tramp; "it'e work for my wife that I'm hunting for!" AN UNEXPECTED ANSWER. A cookery teacher was giving a lesson to a class of children, and questioning them on the joints of mutton. The neck, shoul- der, leg, and loin had been mentioned. "Now," said the teacher, "there is another joint no one haa mentioned. Mary. I know your father U3 a room. what dooo he often put on a horse?'' "A shilling each way, miss," wae the un- expected answer. CARNEGIE WAS INVITED The Authors' Club of New York was arrsng- inga .list of nrvitattons for dinner to be given by the club when the ooane of Mr. Andrew Carnegie waa reached. Some of the com- mittee objected to inviting Mr. Carnegie on the score that the line ought to be drawn a.t multi-millionaires. "But be is an author," eaid one of the committee. Finally, another of the committee said: "Welt no matter how rich ho is, be is a mighty poor tuathor." MT. Carnegie was iwiibed. MORE TILAN ENOUGH. An eight-year-old boy went to a. ecboll treat, and, being a favourite with the ladies, had been liberally supplied with good things to oat. Later in the day one ol the ladies noticed the boy sitting near a stream with it wobegone expression on hifl face, and his hands clasped over his bosom, Why. what's the matter, Willie?" she kindly asked. Haven't you has enough to ea,t t' Oh, yes'm," eaid the boy. I've had enough, I feel as though I don't want all I've got." Nar~~YTr." Two gentlemen were travelling in one of the hill counties of Kentucky not long ago. They had boon dri-ring for two hours with- out encountering a human being, when they came in sight of a. cabin in a. clearing. It was very still. The hogs lay sleeping in the sun, the thin mule grazed jxxand and round in a, great oixiole, to eawe the trouble of walk- ing, and one lean, lank (mac leaned against & trc-s and lot time roll by. "Wonder if he oan said one traveller to the otlxer, "Try him," said his companion. How de you do?" eaid the Northerner. Howdy?" remarked the Southerner, languidly. '"Pleasant country." "Fur them that likes it." Lined here all your life ?" The Southerner srsa/t pensively in the dust. Not yit," he said. HE WOULD DO ALL BIGHT. Å boy entering college was recommended to the consideration of the professor. "Try to draw the boy out, professor—criticise him, and tell us what you think," the parents said. To facilitate acquaintance the pro- fessor took the boy for a walk. After ten minutes' silence the youth ventured, "Fine day, professor." "Yea," with a far-away look. Ten minutes more, and the young man, squirming uncomfortably, said, "This is a pleasant walk, professor?" "Yes." An- other silence and then the young man blurted out that he thought they might have some rain. "Yes," and this time the pro- fessor went on, saying, "Young man, we have been walking together for half-an-hour and you have said nothing which was not common-place and stupid. "Yes," said the boy, his irritation getting the better of his modesty, "and you endorsed every word I said." Word from the professor to the parents to the effect that the boy was ail right. ALL HAD A TURN. A doctor had recently ordered a pair of trousers from a tailor. On trying them on, they proved to be several inehee too long. It being late on Saturday night, the tailor's shop was closed, and the doctor took the trousers to his wife, and asked her to cut the surplus off a.nd hem them over. The good lady, whoso dinner had, perhaps, dis- agresd with her, smappfeSily refused. The same results followed applications to the wife's sister and the eldest daughter. Before bedtime, the wife, relenting, took the trousers, and, cutting off six inches from the legs, hemmed them up nicely, and restored them to the closet. Half-an hour later her daughter, takan with compunction for unfllial conduct, took the trousers, and, cut- ting off six inches, hemmed and replaced them. Finally the saster-in-law fait tho pangs of conscience, a.nd the, too, performed an additional surgical operation on the gar- ment. When the doctor appeared at break- fast on Sunday morning, the family thought a, Highland chieftain had arrived. A FAITHFUL MESSENGE-E. Sportsman to Highland Gillie: Donald, I want von to deliver a message for me at tho village. Donald: Yes, sir. Sportsman: You know the house where Mi S3 Bright eyes Don a.Id Yes, fir. Sportsman: Well, Donald, call on Miss Brisrhtey-es, and say, "Mr. Masher presents his compliments, and is very sorry that busi- ness prevent him from calling this evon- in." Donald: Verra. weel, sir. Sportsman: One moment. Do you think you could remember a sentence of poetry? Donald: Och, yes, sir. Spoi't man: Then tell her, "Though loet to sisht, to memory dear." Donald the village, to Miss Brighteyes): lr. Mas hor is fu' o' complaints, an' iss Terra, sorry he be wi' ye the nicht, an tho. he's lost his sight, his memory is clear, an may the Almighty forgi'e me for t.he lee I m tellin' ye.
UNROMANTIC ELOPEMENT.
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UNROMANTIC ELOPEMENT. MOTHER OF FIFTEEN DESERTS HERFAMILY. The strange story of a married woman- the mother of fifteen children-sloping with a male friend was aarain told in detail art. the Clerkenwell Sessions. The accused were Amelia Oliver a-nd Thomas Henry Lambert, who were indicted for having stolen furniture valued at from Walter Oliver, tb*e husband of t-ne female prisoner. The husband, it wae explained, was sen- tenced to six months' imprisonment for assaulting his wife at Holloway. During his imprisonment Ms wife visited him as often as the regulations allowed, and appeared to be on the meet aCeotiooate terms with him. She notiSod him that she had moved to Horn-say-road, and on his release in October he went there, found six of his fifteen chil- dren, but missed some of his furniture. His wife had disappeared. He subsequently saw her with Lambert a.t a house in Oity-road, where he identified the furniture mentioned in the charge as his property. The woman declared that she had as much right to the furniture as tlie husband, because she had assisted to buy it. The Judge said it was for the jury to decide on which side the truth la.y. If the property was tho woman's, of course the prisoners were not guilty. The jury found tp both guilty, and the woman was sentenced to six weeks' Imprisonment and Lamrbert to two months' I tasQpraonineutfc both M tbe seoood drosiou.
AN UNPROVEN CKIME.
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£ Ey EMINENT AUTHOSS. -f AN UNPROVEN CKIME. The click of cannoning billiard-balls shot out into the night through the open windows. Shadows could be seen passing to and fro withinj and the odour of cigars mingled with the scent of honeysuckle vines. In a music-room adjacent to the billiard players a young woman in white stood talk- ing to one of her guests. Her eyes were full of About her lips there hovered a smile. Through the closed door of communi- cation in the billiard-room beyond her ear seemed t-o follow, even while she talked, the sound of some voice heard only by herself. "You are very ha.ppy, Miliioent," Baad the young- man before her abruptly. Her luminous glance turned to him. She seemed, in. a pause, almost to hold her breath. "Very," she replied in deep accents. So happy, Bob"—her voice, still lower, was touched with awe—"so happy that sometimes I tremole. It is too much almost for common mortals. I am haunted with fear lest some- thing liappen to dash my happiness to the ground." "Forgive! Forgive me—I am selfish—I for- get! But you—Eob—dear old friend—-will not you forget also?" "Never," said the young man quietly. 011, HOD." she began again, as still he stDod silent, motionless before her, I hoped that when I came. baok all would be better- that you would not feel it so miKh. lime "Time does nothing for such hurt as mine, Millicent," Rob Payu broke in, always in the same level voice. "There is but oaie thing for lr..e-1 must go away. I a.m going. In fart, I came here to-night to say good-bye, otherwise I should not have acoeprtcd your invitation." "Rob!" she cried. "It is so much better, dearie." "I wanted you to know Miguel, my hus- baud," she murmured. lie is good-l wanted you to become friends." "Good-bye," he said. And again, "Good- bye, dearie." But Millioent had not taken the out- stretched hand. In the depths of her soul a voice, suddenly articulate, seemed to tell her that this was not a parting of months or years, but a parting for life. She could no longer see the face of her old friend and comrade for the blinding tears, fehe fell on his breast, and for one brief moment Eob Payn's strong, faithful arms closed about t'he one human creature he loved best on earth, and had irrevocably lost. Then he put her from him gently, turned, and had vanished in the darkness of the park outside the long, open window. He walked with a. slow, even step. No need for baste. Nothing would matter now, ever. Life in endless, dreary years stretched before him a blank. Once he thought he had heard a footetep behind him. But he did not take the trouble to turn his head. At the park gate he stopped, for a mail's figure was disoarnibJe a little in front of him, at the junction of the carriage drive with a shorter path that led through tiuckets II from the gate to the house. As Rob drew nearer the man had appeared to wait for him. It was Miguel Florez, Miilicent's Cuban husband. "Ah, Mr. he said, slowly, in his- excellent English. "Are you leaving us so soon?" "I am sorry. It is necessary," rejoined fuyn briefly. "Will you not return to the house with me for another half-hour?" pursued Florez, with his bland, cold oourteey that seemed, in I some mysterious way, to leave his interlocu- tor at a. baffling disadvantage, Thank you. It is impossible I leave for the Pacific the day after to-mor- row," Payn added. I have maary prepara- tions to coimpJete." "Ah!" Miguel Florez paused an instant. "And to-morrow—where will you be?—in. case I should look you up to make my adieux to you?" At my hotel." Payn had moved towards the gate. It slowly opened and closed again with a sharp sna.p of the lock. His footsteps died away in .the. night. The carriage wheels had rolled away; the last guest had gone. In her room, all her white bravery and hor jew-els laid Millioont waited for her husband's step. She still felt the pain of parting from her old friend at her gentle heart, and into her lova for her husband a new clement had crept—a longing for his comprehension of this pain, for his comfort. "I will tell him all. I never have before. He never knew poor Rob loved me. But, Rarely, it is not disloyal to. that dear old I friend to speak The door opened. With a. soft cry, she turned, and the smile of ineffable love came into her exquisite eyes. "Miguel!" she cried, with a. little mutinous frown, in a, moment. "You look so pale a.nd so Why is thA.t?" She drew back from him, still clasping his mock with her soft encircled arm. "Pale—grave? That must be a fancy of yours, my beauty. Fancies! We have strange ores at times." "What have you there?" said the young wife, unlocking' the fingers of his right hand closed over a small object against the palm. "Some powders I got from the doctor for you. You have complained of beadaohes recently." He took up a glass of water and dropped the powder into the fluid. "16 it bad fco take?" the young wife asked, struck anew with some indefinable change in his mien, in his voice, in his lock. Miguel Florez threw back his hand and laughed—a harsh, a strong la/ugh, "Bad? No. It is the easiest thing in life to take. It smoothes away every ache, every, pain. Drink lie raised her in his arms and carried her to the bed. A moment he watched there. The blue- white arms Lay inert. The blue-voiced lids had fallen over the eyes. No motion more; no consciousness. Softly, deliberately, without haste, and without pause, he moved to the side of the bed a little table, and thereon he disposed of two powders like the one he had shaken into the glass a.nd a crystal goblet and caraffc. Then, without another glance at the bad, whose white outlines gleamed faintly through the gloom, he softly parsed out of the room. At an early hour the following morning Miguel Florez had business in town. Before leaving the house he had Madame Florez's •maid called into his presence. "Your mistress was obliged to take a sleep- ing draught last night owing to excitement, couseqnent upon the fatigue of last evening. She ntay sleep late this morning. Whatever the time, disturb her until she rings for you." Two hours afterward, Miguel Florez was in the city's streets. A cab took him directly to the hotel at which Eob Payn had been slopping, and within five minutes more the two men stood face to face. "My wife wishes especially to see you again before yon leave. Mr. Payn. I am here as her deputy to bring you to her." I took leave of Mrs. Florez last night," Payn murmured. Perfectly. 1 am aware of that. But there is special reason for desiring your presence again to-day. Surely you wiil come with me? One does not, deny so small a request to so old a friend." Without a word the two men drove np the wide gravelled road from the gate. At the door of the house two servants stood whis- I pering. As the carriage approached they turned upon it with blanched, stricken vis- ages. "What is it?" asked Rob Payne stopping short, seized with a sense of some ca-tas- trophe, his heart in his throat. Millicent's maid fell back from him, weep- ing violently. "Oh, sir! If you knew. We've only just discovered her." He heard no more. Miguel Florez had dis- appeared. But Eob Payn went forward blindly through an open door at the head of the stairs. At his elbow, aXter an interval he could never have calculated, Eob Payn heard a voice. It was that of Miguel Florez. The door of the room was closed. The two men were alone by that bedside. It was Miguel who spoko. Confess that I am full of complaisance. To have let you have this last glimpse of a woman we both loved—o £ a woman who was mv wif-e!" Their eyes met. For that instant, in that one glance of this man's inplacable eyes, Rob Payn read the hideous truth. You have killed her!" he said. each word falling slowly, distinctly upon the other. The man who had been Millicent's hus- band shrugged his shoulders slightly. Why assert anything 60 improbable? Would anyone believe you? No! Does any- one know that I saw you-yon and that creature who lies there, white and unsullied in appearance as a lily—when you took leave of each other last night in the music-room? No! What motive could I have? They would think yon mad!" And you were capable of blindness suffi- cient to believe a thing so monstrous-—?" The other raised his hand. Oh, apare me all protestations. Of course ar<m4T)iU..flwewr yva—that it was friendship aloll man does not? Enough I" Then they left the fair white body, serene in death. Rob Payn never raised his voice in accusa- tion. To this day the crime which he BQ80 pected remains unproved.
MINA, THE STRAWBERRY GIHL.
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MINA, THE STRAWBERRY GIHL. A frightful thunderstorm had burst over the Rhine Valley. The sky resembled the perpetual spattering of the yolk of eggs over an inky blackboard. All the cannons of the htavenly battle seemed to be pealing forth at once, as the deafening roar reverbenaited irom rick to crag, and from mountain to mountain. Up there in the gloom of tJbe pine forest, the flaring white flashes of lightning burned a dreaxi into tne heart of the young girl who cowered abjectly into a crevice of the moss, covered rock. &he drew the thin ehawl about her more closely, even over her sunburnt face, so a6 to .->tiut out the lightnings. Tne water from a mountain froshlet tridiled sullenly over the rock above her down, on to her feet into the valky beyond. In anoiher moment she would have dashed her head against the rock in sheer excess of terror. A. hand laid gently on her shoulder told her that she was no longer aione. For an instant a horrible thought caane to her quivering brain, that it was the Mountain Gobiin coma to claim her for his own. But the voice tnat gpoke to her wae not that of a goOlin. It was a pleasant voice, and the music of it seemed only enhanced in the curious mouthings that it gave to the Teuton tongue. "Why, child, chiid, what are you shivering for?" said tne voice, in its cunoosly brokea German. Tne girl looked around. Only for an instant did her eyes hash over the tourist s form a.nd lace, tnen a more terrific craah tfcan any beiore came out of the heavens, and seemed to ahake the whole motuitain, and in the renewed terror of that vision the girl threw herself in abject fear into his arras. With tile quick intuinot of a wounaed animal, she na-a recognised in his face a sympathy^ a softness, that brought her at once to the consciousness that sfie coaid trust Anfl iu that last fearful crash, ere her senses left her, she sank hail-uncouaciously towards hia protection lie stood there awhile in the furious tur- moil of wind and rain, with the girl. like a dead-weignt, againat his mackintosh. He shuddered a Tittle, as he t±*oug±it how curiously ghostly the whole tiling was. As he looked down upon her passiw facet he smiled to himeeif. To think that he, Oijde Whitburne, a graduate of college, of worldly experience, as taugfat in America, should be standing here in the midst of a German foreet-etorm, sheltering a girl he had never seen before. It was quite romantic. Kay, mare-es he looked at bee nagged shaAvl and bare feet, he thought it was almost biaarre. was not—dead, she said at laet, -when consciousness had quite returned. "No," said Clyde, "not quite dead. Very nearly, thougn, I imagine. Telil. me, little one, what do they call you.?** Minna." Minna. A pretty name. Weil, where do you live, child? I will see you saieiy home." "Oh, I live on the Berg. Yes, let us go." In perfect naivete she disengaged herself from his protection. "It is not far," she said, "but I a.m stiJtl 90 afraid. The lightning hurt me, it shoots into my eyes." They w-aiked along together for a silent while. H-ere," said Minna., as the path turned aside, I leave you. It is only a step- behind the pines there—to our house. And, perhaps, I skali see you again—on the Aussichtplatz. i sell wild stra»w berries there. Do you ever come there?" Oh, yes, often. Good-bye, Mimeu." Now tihas/t she was gone, aod he down toward the hotel, he feit a vague feel- ing of loneliness. Her very wiMaess* her ocnscious innocence, had touched the rocnaait ic side of him. Minna's dreams were sweet tha.t rugh& There floated all through them the pscsure of a. ball man with a pleasant face, and clad in an unlovely macJuntosh. She was for trying- to aeJl him strawberries, and she was growing very rich, for he gave her a kiss for every strawberry. And, in fact, she sa.w Mm often after on the Platz. He used to chat with her kindly, only always as if she wene quite a child. Yet, every day made her less and lees a ohild. She learned to wait for him, a.ud to listen to his broken German, which she naively corrected for him, and to look into his calm eyes. One day he did not oome. She 6at in ber wonted place so dejectedly that ooe of the other frirls said, "Are you HI, Minna?" When he came walking up the hill tihe day after she sprang forward to meet him. "Yoa oid not come yesterday." No, Minna. Do you look for me, then, alwav ?" Oh, yes." She looked at him. with a, great frankness in her eyes. "And would you be sorry if I never came again?" He hardly knew why he played comedy with the child, but there was a fas- cination to him in it. Oh," she gasped. But, surely, you will conic again?" Soma demon whispered to him the wordfl he spoke nert. "Always, if you will give me a kiss, MinDIIL.- She laughed roguishly. It was like that dream of hers. And a kiss—was only a visw. She put up her face for the caress of the lips." And then the whirlwind of & sudden passion made him seiae her in his arms a.^ cover her face a.nd hair and neck with hot, fierce kisses. Oh," she moaned, you hurt me." He pushed her away from him suddenly, and shuddered at the storm that had gona over him. Forgive me," he murmured. "I was And still she did not understand. In her eyes there was only the look of a frightened fawn. She looked almost as he had first seen her in the storm—terrified. For three days ho came not. And Bb8 began to learn that she loved him. The childish aeee was leaving her. She was becoming a woman, and knowing a woman's love. When he came to the Platz again, he did not see Minna at first. She was sitting in-a shady corner looking out over the Rhine. with a beautiful wistfulness in her face. His step startled her. She blushed scarlet at the eight of him. "Will you not speak to me, Minna?" he said. "I thought you liked me a little." "No." she said quietly, "I do not like yoo. I love you." And tie drew her towards him and kissed her mouth, gently and very tenderly ¡¡ he felt almost righteous. It seemed to him so pei feet a thing, this child's love that had dawned and spoken at last. They walked together to the edge of the look-out pla-ce, where the Rhine flowed darkly beneath. "If you should love me no more," she said, I would quickly die 50," and she pointed fee the water. Then came a day when Minna looked few him in vain. Disconsolate, she wandered through the pines a.nd into the cool darkness. To Schlaugenbad she would not go. It woukf be liko mistrusting him. There was a rumble of a carriage over the white cuausoe in the valley below. It crept up slowly till it rea-ehed the pine forest. Gradually it approached her, as she eat in the cool of a mighty pine. The inmates she could see were a man and woman. They were laughing and chatting. Tbeir voices came nearer u.nd nearer. She could almost see their features now. A sort of curiosity possessed her. Then she gave a little moan, and sank into the gratis and the pine needles. The face of the man was that of Clyde Whit In me. There floated toward her soma English words, the meaning of which she had learnt in the sweet weeks gone by. It has been ple~3ant here, my little wife, has it not?" The carriage was within twenty yaTds of her hiding-place now. The agony of seeing him thus brought up the greater pang of retrosptction. She had given him her whole love, her pure childish love, unsullied and untutored. And he—had played with her. It flashed though her mind like a needle. How shall I endure life now ? The carriage rownded the turn swiftly. Suddenly a figure leaped from the roadside There was a horrible cry of anguish, a jerk on the reins, and the awful feeling of wheels going over a soft body. ily God," said Whitburne under hia breath, even before he saw tie face, It was done on purpose." He smothered a cry of pain and astonish- ment taE be saav the pain-distorted f:we of Minna. He recovered himself quickly. "A peasant girl whom I have sometimes seen hereabouts. Her parents live near by. Drive there at once." Once the eyes of the wounded girl opened. Her lips breathed adieu to Clyde, who was bending over her; then a tremor passed over her maimed limbs, and she had passed away. He stood there mechanically for a while. One of the horses outside snorted, and he started as from a dream. He walked out into the sun, after leaving a sum of money on the cottage table, Blood-money," he murmured, and bit his lipe.
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MRS. WINSLOWS SOOTHINQ smtJP. For Children TEETHING. Over SO yvat* repata £ ion. Is best remedy known far children's diarrhoea. It refcalstfls tbe bow*)* Knd gives health to the cfcUd, sod rest Co tfas mother. -Ila