The Cardiff Times

1 I [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] DEAD MEN'S SHOES. #» A NEW NOVEL By the Author of "Zady Audley's Secret" "Strangers and Pilgrims," ^Taken at the Plood," A Strange WbfM," <{-c., PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHOR. CHAPTER XL* SIBYL TAKES THE LEAD. The favourable impression which Sibyl maizes on her uncle Stephen,Trejichasd, is a fact too obvious for diver. sity of opinion. Marion reluctantly, sullenly even, admits that truth, with many sneers and inuendoas about winning manners and hollow-heartednesa. I have never laid myself out to please Uncle Stephen as Sibyl does," murmurs, the injured maiden. I can't flatter people with my looks. I haven't Sibyl's caressing ways. I can't pretend more affection than I feel, and I must say that Uncle Stephen's dry little jerky ways of speaking and looking at one are not calculated to de- Telope affection." Thus argues Marion in the easy atmosphere of Uncle Robert's every-day parlour. The girls are seated at sup- per with Dr. Faunthorpe, trifling with morsels of bread and cheese, after having dined with Mr. Trenchard. I did not find him hard or dry," replies Sibyl. He I seems really kind and affectionate, and I was grateful to him for his warm welcome. I don't know what you mean by my laying myself out to please him. I remem. bered that he was poor jtnamma's only brother, and our flesh and blood, the uncle I had heard so much about fears ago, and I was qaturally touched by our meeting." Ah," says Marion,' "what an advantage it is for a woman to be ablfe to cry>vhen she likes. How do you manage it, Sib T" If the tears came into my eyes to-day it was because I am not very strong juslf now, Marion," answers Sibyl, reddening. You are really the most horrid girl I ever met with." However horrid I am I'm not double-faced," replies the other promptly. I should be ashamed to court Uncle Trenchud if I were you, when I remember the things you've said about him." „ (" What things 1" "What a convenient memory yours is. Haven't you said that you despised him for his meanness, as a young man. That he won his way in the world by double deal- ing—by base flattery of his patron—that all your lIym. pathy was with the youtig man he supplanted — Mr. Secretan." At that name Sibyl flushes crimson, and then grows ashy pale. Ah, I see you do remember," cries Marion trium- phantly. Marion," exclaims the mild little surgeon, with a rare flash of anger, 'I will not Jhave your sister teased in thi3 manner. How dare you ateeuse her of falsehood or hypo- crisy. She has as good a ri^Ut to Stephen Trenchard' favour as you have." 'K i "Yes, and to his fortune. Let her have it all," cries Marion, tempted to go inta hysterics, but thinking better of it immediately. She is to go and stay with him, and keep house for him, directly she can get her things ready, which, considering she came home without a rag, must take aome.tune. She is to pay him a long visit. rm, no. body now." My love, you have had your innings," pleads the pacific doctor. "Oh, of conrse, and just as I have got to understand his ways .and know ho N to please him I am pushed Mide." L My dear, his sense of justice will induce him 'to* dis- tribute his bounty fairly." His sense of justice did not prevent his kissing Sibyl tiore affectionately than he1 has ever kissed me." "Mere fancy on your part, I have no doubt," says ths doctor. After this little burst of temper Marion calms down and is tolerably placable. She even discusses her sister's outfit with some show of interest. Mr. Trenchard has given Sibyl five-and-twenty pounds. I suppose you are pretty well provided with cash, little one," he said, just before she wished him good night, an independent- minded young woman like you who goes out into the world to get her own living is sure to have a well-lined purse." Sibyl blushed and owned that her purse had no lining at all. "Ah, I see, sent help home to the old dostor," mut- tered Mr. Trenchard, fortunately not loud enough for Marion to hear, or that sharp-tongued young person would inevitably have set him right. Well, well, very right, very proper." And then the crimson pocket book was slowly brought torth, and Mr. Trenchard sighed a desponding sigh as he tpened it, a sigh that was like a funeral gun for his departed baak notes. Sibyl went back to the dingy old house at the bottom of the town richer by five-aad- twenty pounds than when she left it at mid-day. The girls go out gaily enough next morning to Car- miohael's, the haberdashery, linen drapery, and silt mercery establishment of Redcastle, to supply the void in Sibyl's wardrobe. Five-and-twenty pounds is not much for a young lady of large ideas, but Sibyl, sohooled in the philosophy of small means, makes the most of that Bum. She spends all her money at Carmichael's and trusts to Providence and John Trenchard for means to pay Miss Eylett for the making up of her dresses, and Mfr. Koi-ksoll, the bootmaker, for the equipment of her pretty little feet. It is astonishing how far away from the thoughts of Mies Eylett and Mr. Korksoll, seems the notion of payment now that Miss Faunthospe's rich uncle has returned from the Indies. You are to send the things home to me at Lancaster Lodge," says Sibyl, and that seems as good as paying for them. Sibyl has asked for a week in which to prepare herself for this important visit, and that week is occupied in the stitching, hemming sewing, felling, gathering, and triuiii.in^ of underclothing-the fashion of ready-made linen not having yet vitiated the housewifely habits of Redcastle. The lower middle classes make their own garments, laboriously, and are proud of their toil; the upper classes employ school children, reduced widows, or virtuous orphans for the labour, and contrive thereby to exercise a good deal of patronage at a very small expen- diture. j Sibyl revives considerably during this week of prepara- tion. She manages to rest a good deal, other people taking the chief burden of getting her clothes made on their shoulders. She lies on the tofa in the shabby old parlour, staring idly at the white and yellow spring flowers that brighten the dull brown beds yonder in the familiar garden, the white pear blossoms tossing gaily in the light April wind, the jonquils peeping over the tall box border, the sword-shaped lily of the valley leaves cleaving the damp mould in the shadow of the bulging mossgrown wall, summer's harbinger in the shape of a butterfly skimming over the tender rose leaves. A dull old house verily—a limited prospect this long strip of walled garden, yet sweet and soothing to one who has suffered. Sweet to lie at rest on the slumberous sofa, with no thought or care for the day, and with but vaguest thought of the morrow. ''It' uncle Trenchard leaves me a fortune life will be made so easy," Sibyl muses, her arms folded above her head, her eyes fixed dreamily on the waving white pear-bloom, I shall have but to call Afex. back to me, and we can be happy together again, and taste the sweets of life again, as we did in our brief bright honeymoon. Poverty and love cannot live long together but love with plenty of money-that means Paradise." The future, dimly veiled though it is, seems very easy to her just now. She is elated by her uncle's evident ad- miration of her. She has made just the impression that she would have wished to make upon that fate-disposing relative. To follow up that impression will be simple enough. Has she not been told of her winning ways, of those small fascinations which make a woman powerful for good or evil ? Has she not been always her Uncle Robert's favourite, everybody's favouiite, without effort on her own part, while Marion, painfully anxious to please, has been lo iked on rather as a nuisance, a vivacious nonentity of whom one might easily have too much. Mi. Trenchard's carriage calls evary afternoon, with its coachman and footman in respectable Puritan drab liveries, to take the two yoùng- ladies for an airing, Mr. Trenchard himself rarely making any, use of the equi- page, which he k3eps rather ail an appanage of his state than for pleasure or convenience. It is very agreeable to Sibyl to drive up the long street, with its ascending scale oE social importance, from. the shabby old houses at Uncle Robert's end of the town to the stately stone mansions above Bar. Very agreeable to pass the elite, whom Marion has just begun to know, and salutes with delighted becks and b )WJ, but whom Sibyl surveys with a stony stare, as having not the faintest notion who they are. That Faunthorpe girl is handsomer than ever," Bays Colonel Stormont to his wife, whom he is driving in a pony carriage a size or two larger than a washing basket. She's pretty sure to come in for a tidy share of the old fellow's money, I should think. Not a bad match for Frederick." Frederick is the eldest hope of the Stormontls—great at cricket, croquet and athletics, fire brigade, and volun- teer rifle corps a youth with very thin legs, and not much body, who wears a cutaway coat that just clears his hips, and^ has never been seen in an overcoat, or without a flower in his button-hole,. No family," says Mrs. Stormont, pursing up her lips, <( Family ba bothered." remarks the Colonel. Old Trenchard is rolling in money. What's the good of family ? It won't keep a roof over your head, or pay the tax- gatherer. Commerce is the thing now-a-days. If Fred. doesn't marry a rich woman pretty soon he'll have to go into commerce. You ought to take notice of those Faun- thorpe girls." "I'll call next week," replies Mrs. Stormont, | obediently. Sibyl's beauty is the talk of the town. Redcastle is suddenly awakened to the consciousness of loveliness that scarcely moved it to admiration two years ago, although the girl's beauty had then the bloom and freshness of unchastened youth. Perhaps she is really lovelier now. Sorrow and passion have passed there, and left the exalted t look of an awakened soul, where there was before only girlish innocence, curious and Hvondering about a world of l which it knejv nothing. She hag eaten of the tree of ••IIHA,0- I I'.S •: dr- -y. tt h. tMt .MtM<t$)t bt&a _11£ Wtt.hAft vA im t knowledge of good and evil. The mystery of life has been revealed to her. Be sure that Eve's beauty had 3 deeper meaning after she came out by the fatal gate where the armed seraph's kept watch and ward. The carriage comes at the week's end to fetch Misa Faunthorpe and her belongings, to the tribulation of her young sistef Jenny who has had so much of Marion lately that she is deeply grieved to los e Sibyl. "It will be ever so much worse for me when you're goite," she says, "You do stand up for a fellow, some- times. She'll be sending me lipstairs for her handker- <41pef or; her keys three times an Lour, and making me Crimp her hair till my fingera ache, and unpick her old dresses. I wish uncle Trenchard would let me go with you. I shouldn't] cost much or be in his way. And now uncle Robert says I'm not to go to school anymore, because it makes me vulgar, and Marion is to go Oil with my education. A nice education it will be. I don't believe she knows when Wifliain the Conqueror came over, or who invented potatoes. Sibyl tears herself from the lamenting damsel, kisses ancle Robert, with a plaintive little look more expressive cf gratitude than many a lengthy oration, and takes her place in the barouche, which becomes her as a frame does a picture, and seems as much her attribute as Juno's car to the goddess. Good bye, poverty," she says to. herself as the ches- nuts throw up their fore legs, as if they were playing cup and ball, and dash off towards the Bar. It shall go hard with me if my name is not written in Uncle Trenchard's will before long" ..(, — CHAPTER XII, (V'V J '1 How STEPHEN TRENCHARD FORGIVES. The new life at Lancaster Lodge suits Sibyl as if she had been created for no other purpose than to sit at her uncle's table, pour out his coffee, air his newspapers, play or sing to him in the evenings, and take her own pleasure for the rest of the day. Housekeeping is an easy burden in so well ordered an establishment. The trained servants perform their duties, light for the most part,lwith mechanical precision. The service is too good to be forfeited by scamped work, or forgetfulness of the master's wishes. Stephen Treuchard has let his servants understand tEftt he will have fullest value for his money, that there must be no talents stowed away in napkins in his household. He has contrived to inspire them with wholesome fear, and ia served to the utmost of iaoir power. Sibyl is not afflicted with a genius for domestic matters, She remembers with a shudder, those days in Dixon- street when she had to Citer for a penniless husband, and make ninepence do the work of a shilling.. She remembers this weary time and reposes in her low easy chair, novel in hand, the garden smil- ing at her through the open French window, horses and carriages at her disposal, luxury around her, all Redcastle subjugated and more or less prostrated at her feet—sha keenly remembers the past, and deems her present lite worthy some sacrifice, more especially as the present is made still brighter by vague hopes of happiness, aud a reconciliation of all life's perplexities in the future. She has her dark moments, naturally. What life is without shadow ? There are moments when she thinks of one she has fondly loved—fondly loves still, perhaps, in some sealed chamber of her heart. There are hirars in which she wonders, with remorseful wander, hon he fares whom she so ruthlessly abandoned. For his future advantage," she tells herself "as 1fra. Secretan I should have forfeited my uncle's fortune —as Miss Faunthorpe I may win it and share it with him." Fstablished as Stephen Trenchard's favourite li iice Sibyl finds herself au object; of unbounded interest and admira- tion with the elite. Mr3. Stormont, although overflowing with kindness, at first shows some disposition to patronise, but finding this eldest Miss Faunthorpe a young woman not amenable to patronage, changes her note and accepts Mr. Trenchard's niecd* as one of ourselves," elected and chosen to sit in the high places of Redcastle. "The girl ha3 a wonderful air," argues Mrs. Stormont, cc when you consider that she is totally without family." Talking of family," muses the Colonel, 1 hope its all right about old Trenchard's money, and that he hasn't left any niggers over in Calcutta to whom he may leave his fortune." "My dear Reginald, I'm surprised at you," exclaims the lady, with a look of horror. Mr. Trenchard goes to church every Sunday, and is altogether a most correct person." We don't know what he may have been in India, though," says the Colonel. He may have beea a devil- worshipper, and danced an exaggerated highland fling at devil-dances; or a Mahomedan, or a Brahmin, or a Thug. He seems to have plenty of money, and that's about all we know of him." Notwithstanding which ignorance as to Trenchard s antecedents the Colonel and his wife continue to court and cherish him, arranging the nicest little dinners for him, with Mr. Groshen to sit opposite to him and discourse upon the money market; lavishing affection on Sibyl, enquiring kindly about the exiled Marion—as remote at the un. visited end of ttie town as if she had been removed to another hemisphere—and making themselves generally subservient and agreeable. Frederick Stormont, with his cutaway coat and legs like sticks of sealing wax, calls frequently at Lancaster Lodge, and is deeply interested in everything that interests Sibyl, the flower garden; the horses—he even volunteers to be interested in the poultry, but bottles his enthusiasm upon finding that Miss Faun- thorpe has no taste for Dorkings, Spaniards, or Cochin- Chinas. There is a billiard room at Lancaster Lodge, and Frederick is great at billiards. He drops in of an evening, and plays with Mr. Trenchard, he teaches Sibyl how to handle her cue, and discourses wisely on the theory of angles. Well, pretty one," says Mr. Trenchard, one night, when Fred has taken his departure, with obvious reluc- tance, and uncle and niece are loitering by the billiard table, Sibyl leaning over the green cloth to aim at the distant red, dressed in pale gray silk, with innumerable flounces, and knots of mauve ribbon dotted about among them, a master piece of Miss Eylett's art. Well, my pet, I think its pretty clear what that young gentleman comes here for." Billiards, I should think," replies Sibyl, poshing: her cue gently backwards and forwards as she meditates her aim. They have no table at the Stormonts, and it ia cheaper for him to play here than at the Crown." The billiard table is a very good excuse, my dear, but the gentleman comes to see you." Poor thread-paper," exclaims Sibyl with a contemptu- ous laugh. For his own sake—if the thing can feel—I hope not." Why, he'd be a very good match for you, wouldn't he ?" asks her uncle, looking keenly at her from under his pent-house brows. "These Stormonts are great people, the leaders of Redcastle society. You could hardly do better than marry into their set." If I were likely ever to marry, which I'm not," says Sibyl, pockettiBg her ball triumphantly off the red, I'd marry a man" Never likely to marry, whit do you mean by that ?" Simply that I'm quite happy as I am, and that I mean to stop with you, and take care of you, please uncle Stephen, until you get tired of me." She has been living with her rich uncle nearly three months, and there is no more talk of her being a visitor at Lancaster Lodge. It is her home. Marion may come and go, but Sibyl remains. Stephen Trenchard cannot do without her. "I shan t get tired of you in a hurry," answers Mr. Trenchard, but I think for your own sake you ought to marry when you get a good opportunity. I was only joking about that whipper-snapper, who walks about the place as if the very paving stones were his property, and couldn't give you change for a five pound note if you asked him for it. He's not the man for you. But with your pretty face you are sure to find the right kind of man before long, a man with brains and money, and when you do I hope you'll be wise enough to marry him. Its all very well while I'm here to take oare of you, but when I'm dead and gone-" "When you are dead and gone I shall have your money, you dear old thing," thinks Sibyl, but says not a word. She only goes to her uncle's side, and lays her face upon his shoulder, and gives him one of those gentle little caresses which Marion would as soon have offered to the Zoological Garden's tiger, as to her Anglo-Indian uncle. Yes, pretty one, I should like to see you well married before my time comes," says Stephen Trenchard. Now you know, uncle, that you are under a. solemn agreement with me to live till you are ninety," replies Sibyl, shaking her finger at him with playful menace. She has grown very intimate with her uncle in these three months. Her playing, her singing, her bright talk, her sparkling vivacious little ways have won the old man's confidence. Stern to all the rest of the world, implacable in all his dealing with men, suspicious alike of equals and inferiqrs, tyrannical to his servants, he is yet wondrously gentle to Sibyl. His inherent meanness, his mental incapacity to give, cannot be wholly sub- jugated even by her influence, but what money he be- stows upon her he gives less grudgingly than to Marion. He feels the loss of so many pounds a shade less keenly, when Sibyl's pleasure is in question, and though he grumbles sorely at the costliness of a women's toilet he is pleased to see his neice expensively dressed, and may in time come to regard her costume as one of the accessories of hia own grandeur, like his stables or hot houses. Rarely despite the confidence that is established between them, has Mr. Trenchard talked to Sibyl of his past life, of his youth never. Ho tells her his prosy old stories of Calcutta society, of men with whom he has had com- mercial dealings, of clever frauds and chicaneries which he chuckles over as the coup d'etats of the trading world, but of himself he speaka very little. Never, above all, has the fatal name of Secretan crossed his lips; and Sibyl is longing to find out the state of his feelings, now, after this lapse of time, in relation to that name. If he had learned, in the lapse of years, to forgive the men he injured and over reached, if he had grown to feel some touch of remorseful pity for the supplanted son what a happiness it would be to fall on her knees at his feet and confess the secret of her life, to be pardoned for her duplicity, set free from the toil and trouble of false. hood, able to call her proud youag husband back to her side, and to begin life again, honest in the aighfc of man, and at peace with God She is continually musing upon this question, and would give much for an opportunity of sounding ner uncle's feelings. It comes one day unawares, and she has no longer need to speculate or wonder about Stephen Trenchard's sentiments upon the subject of an old enemy. „ It is a drowsy July afternoon. The summer is at Its honest, and Mr. Trenchard and his neice are sitting on the iawa after tjtictt elaborate meal, half breakfast half £ iTOjcW I f fi..t-Ol t .• £ +-■'■* t A J-- •% £ V luncheon, which the Anglo Indian calls tiffin. That lawn behind Lancaster Lodge is a delightful place on a I warm summer's day. Three or four old elms, a spreading cedaft, a Spanish «hesQUt^ «tld a couple of noble plane trees afforaartrandant- ihacfeV Th £ .gnjbs is smooth as velvet. Gat den'ch >ii\s, low. and luxurious, are dotted about under Gat den'ch >ii\s, low. andluxunous, are dotted about under the tree.3. Newspapers, and Sibyl's work basket, bestrew the light iron table. Changing lights and shadows flit and flicker among the leaves, and Stephen Trenchard's lean figure, stretched to its full length, reclines at ease on a bamboo reclining chair, a glass of potash water on one side of him, a cigar case on* the other. Sibyl is reading 'to-lam out of yesterday's Times—• when he interrups her with a sudden sigh, which is almost a groan. "What is the matter, Uncle Stephen ?" "You had better leave off—even your soft voice irri. tates me." Your nervous headache not gone yet, Uncle Stephen ?" Gone ? It's worse than ever. This English summer is more oppressive than Indian heat, or it seems so to me, at any rate." Sibyl searches in the little work basket, lined with cerulean satin, fishes out a silver-stoppered scent bottle, and is on her knees by her uncle's side, in a moment, dabbing his yellow forehead with her handkerchief steeped in eau-de-cologne. "Thank you, my dear, that will do. I don't care about it." He gives her an impatient little push, as disapproving co much fuss, but not before she has disarranged one of those terrier-ear whisps of iron gray hair, and been start'tcl by a scar which disfigures the forehead beneath it, a long narrowseam, which cresges the temple diagonally jUot below the rpots of the hair. Uncle Stephen, were you ever in battle ?" } Battle, child ? W hat nonsense Of course not." Or in a mutiny—or anything ? How did you get this dreadful scar From the foul blow of a scoundrel," answers Steiphrn Trenchard, deadly pale. From the man who lamed me for life. Did you never hear your mother speak of Philip Secretan ?" Yes, Uncle Stephen, I have heard heard her say that he treated you very badly." t, Oh, she owned as much did she? The world. In general, would have it that I used him badly, that I had no right to the money his father left me—a paltry thirty thousand; that I ought to have stocd on one side, and said 'No, blood is thicker than water. You've been an idler and a profligate—a bad son. The business would have gone to wreck and ruin if it had been left to you to save it. I've toiled, I've slaved, I've planned and plotted, I'v.e boms the heat and burden of the day but still you are the son, and you've a right to come in at He eleventh hour, and rob me of my just reward, simply be- ¡ cause you are the son.' That's what the world would have had me do, in the high and mighty justice it is so good at dealing out for other people, and so bad at yield- ing on its own account. Some went so far as as to say that the will was forged, and I was the forger. Luckily for me, old Mr. Secretan had published his intention of disinheriting his son, and making me his heir, the year of the great Manchester failuros, when his house tottered, and I had the luck to save it by a desperate stroke of business." "He was very fond of you, I suppose, this old Mr. Secretan î" asks Sibyl, breathlessly. Fond of me ? Yes, perhaps, as much as it was in his nature to be fond of anything, except money. He hated his son, knowing that h" was a spendth; ift, nd would squander every shilling the old man had toiled for. He trusted me—he looked up to me. 'If you were my son,' he used to say, 'I shouldn't be tortmed by the thought that this business would go to ruin when I'm in my grave.' The day he said that for the first time I made up my mind that I was to be his heir. Philip's follies and vices helped ma; but my own patience and industry were the chief agents. "And there was a quarrel between you and Philip Seeretan," asks Sibyl, seated on the grass, and plucking up little tufts of it nervously as sh, watches her uncle's vindictive face with eager eres, reading doom there. Yes, when the will had been read, and he knew ths worst-he ought to have expected it if he had a grain of sense-Philip Secretan followed me out into the grounds1. His father's heuse was a few miles outside Manchester, a fine old place enough, but neglected, the old man was too fond of money to spend much on house or gardens. Philip followed me to the back of the grounds, where there was a wild bit of shrubbery and a hollow that had once been a stone quarry, and which had been left. because people didn't care about the expense of filling it, or because they fancied it was picturesque. In any case it was dangerous, and an abomination that ought to have been done away with. Well, I was close v, if hollow—there being a short cut to the Manchester road just beyond it—when Philip over- took me. He didn't spare me I can tell you, and when he had called me reptile, and a few other equally agree. able names, fiading that he couldn't sting me into re. taliation by abuse of that kind, came close up to me and struck me across the face with his open hand. There, cur," he cried, "and let's see if that will warm your fish's blood into human feeling." I had been in a burning rage all the time at his insolence, but had held myself in check in pity for his disappointment, which was hard to bear no doubt, richly as he had deserved it. I was a. man, and the shame of a blow was too much even for my sluggish temper, trained to patience by long servitude. I closed with him, and we wrestled together on that path by the quarry. Now, mark the cowardice of this fine gentleman, who boasted ot his honour, and called me a sneak and reptile He was twice my match in weight and size, three times my match ih training, a practiced athlete, a skilled boxer, every muscle developed by exercise. To use his force igiinst mine was simply murder. I was the shuttle cock and he the battle-dore. I had a confused sense of b.ows raining on my head, as from a Nasmith's hammer, coloured sparks dancing before my eyes, fire shooting out of my brain, and then I was hurled bodily into the air and fell crashing through the brushwood into the cpiarry. It seemed like falling from the highest cliff (that breasts the Atlantic." How dreadful," says Sibyl, with a gasp. "It was deep in the night when I awoke, and the st u s were shining. I wondered where I was, and how «. co.me to see the pole star looking straight down at me. Pain came before memory, acute, agonising pain, and teen I knew that my leg had been shattered somehow. I lay in the quarry till past eight o'clock next morning, suffering indescribable torture. At last, however, some labourers heard my faint cries for help, found me, and carried me to the nearest roadside inn, whence I was conveyed to the Man- chester Infirmary. Here I lay for five months— the most miserable months of my life—while the frac. tured bones united. It was a compound fracture, and for some time I was threatened with amputation. When I rose from the hospital bed I was lame for life. The broken leg had contracted in the process of healing. Sur- gery had done it best for me, and had saved my leg; but 3urgery left me a cripple; for which life-long injury I had to thank Philip Secretan." "And in those weary months, lying on your bed of pain, you learned to forgive your enemy," suggests Sibyl, very gently. "Learned to forgive him! Yes, if forgiveness means un. dying hatred; if forgiveness means the rankling memory of an unatoneable wrong; if forgiveness means to remember him and curse nim every time a change of wind brings back the old grinding pain in this crippled limb. If that means forgiveness, Philip Secretan and his race are forgiven." His race?" falters Sibyl. "You could feel no rancour against his children." I could. I do," answers the old man vindictively, Let no viper of that blood cross my path. The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.' There's scripture for you. I believe in that good old heathen creed one reads of in Greek legends, of an accursed race. Of Philip Secretan's after career, I know little or nothing. He had the devil's luck as well as his own, and married a woman with money, soon after his father's death, but I neven heard what became of him. He may be living or dead. If he lives let him keep out of my way. If he has left children, my dearest hope is that they are penniless, homeless, street Arabs whose playground is the gutter, whose ultimate destiny the gallows.—" Uncle, for mercy's sake- "My curse light on him and his seed to the third genera- tion. There, child, don't cry. You should have known better than to tempt me to talk of Philip Secretan." (To be continued.)

THE FATAL COLLISION IN THE SOLENT. The inquiry into the death of the mate of the schooner Mistlotoe was resumed on Tuesday morning. Staff-Cap- tain Welch, of the Alberta, was then called, and before being examined was cautioned that he was not bound to give any evidence which might tend to criminate him. Captain Welch said he had nothing to conceal. He then repeated his former evidence. He contended that bad the Mistletoe kept the course she was on when he saw her at a distance of half a mile the collision would have been aveited. He believed that had the Mistletoe kept her course he should have cleared her by 100 or 150 yards. At a meeting of the Wellesley training ship bovs at Shields on Tuesday, Earl Percy presided, and Mr C. M. Palmer, M.P., dwelt on the importance of giving atten- tion to the system of water-tight compartments in iron- clads. Speaking of the collision with the Royal yacht, he expressed a belief that if the Alberta had been in the charge of a Tyne pilot, she would have given a wide berth to the Mistletoe. On Wednesday the inquiry relative to the death f Nathaniel Turner, mate of the Mistletoe, was resumed. Staff Captain Welch was recalled, and produced the log book of the Alberta. He stated, in answer to Mr Bullen, that the entry of the collision was made by him the morning after it occurred. A log slate was kept on board, and its contents were entered the following morn. ing into the log, not by him, but by a man on board. He gave orders to him not to make entry of the collision, as he considered no one on board was as competent to give an account of it as himself, The entry made by Captain Welch was read by Mr Myburgh. It stated the time of leaving Cowes, inci- dents prior to the collision, and what occurred at the collision, and affirmed that had the Mistletoe kept her sails full the Alberta would have gone clear.

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-.===: -£_- GENERAL NEWS ———♦— It is feared that the schooner Princess Alexandria, of Jersey, ha., been lost, with her crew of five hands. A bo king clerk at the Margate Station Cll the Chat- ham and Dover line was remanded on Wednesday on three charges of embezzlement. I A fed named Sewed, 12 year3 old, has died at Bartho- lomew Hospital from hydrophobia caused by the bite of a cat. A mad Russian wolfhound escaped from Buckingham Palace on Tuesday morning. It was captured after a long chase, happily no one being bitten. In accordance with instructions from the War Office, the Martini-Henri Rifle is to be in the hands of all trcops in the Colonies, by the end of the financial- year. The Labour League has decided to join the proposed Jjoderated Trades. It declined to send a delegate to the Paris Workmen's Peace Conference, on account of the sxpense to the labourers. The steamer, Duchess of Sutherland, from Dublin for Holyhfad, got into collision with the steamer Edith, in the outer Roads, Holyhead. The Edith sunk. Two firemen are reported to be drowned. Mr William Angus, Assistant Manager of the Royal Woolwich Arsenal, was killed at Canterbury Railway Station, on Tuesday. He endeavoured to alight before the train stopped, and fell between the carriages, three of which passed over him. Lawrence Donaghty, tpubliean, Great Howard-street, Liverpool, was yesterday mulcted in penalties amounting to £112 103 by the Liverpool magistrates for receiving spirits into stock without a certificate, for being in pos- session of a still, and other offences. -u T The total value of imports into the United KFCJ^dom during August amounted to £31,200.145, against £32.317,228 in the corresponding period of last year. The exports amounted to £19,418,876, against £ 20,503,756fest year. Foot-and-mouth disease is spreading rapidly in the neighbourhood of Oswestry, Ellesmere, and Welshpool. The police report to the Llandysilod Petty-sossions that 44 farms, ^having 320 cattle. 23 sheep, and 99 pigs, are affected. Eleven sucking pigs had died in one place. The great cricket match at Hull was coochidad.on Saturday in the presence of several thousand SPECTATORS. The match was between North and South, and has re- sulted in a victoiy for the latter. The North scored 207, and South 230. Captain Webb arrived in Dover on Friday afternoon, and was loudly cheered by a large number of persons who had assembled to meet him. In the evening he enter- tained Captain Toms and the crew of the lugger at dinner. The unfortunate woman, Eliza Burden, who sustained such terrible injuries by being flung out of a window of the Royal Barracks, ia still in a very precarious condi- tion. Much sympathy has been evoked by the biutal and unsoldierlike treatment of this wretched woman. Mr John Thirlwall, 59, Pulteney-strett, Bath, requests us to state that he would feel extremely obliged if persons who possess letters of Bishop Thirlwall would entrust him either with the originals or with copies, with a view to publication. If originals are sent they will be carefully returned. Colonel Wilson, member of Parliament for West Suffolk, died at four o'clock on Saturday, at his seat Stowiaiiyt ift Hall, of inflammation of the brain. He was elected for West Suffolk only two months since, and beld the chairmanship of the West Suffolk Quarter Sessions. At a publie meeting; held on Saturday at Clertfenwell- gieen, a resolution was adopted calling upon the Euro- pean Powers, in the interests of civilisation, to help the Herzegovinians in their present attempt to throw off the Turkish yoke. Another meeting to further the same object will be held on Wednesday. The Lords of the Admiralty have ordered that the court-martial on Captain Dawkius, the captain of. the Vanguard, shall be opened on Friday next. Bear Admiral Lord John Hay and Rear-Admiral b. C. Cham- berlain will sit on the court. Sixty riggers under the staff of Captain Batt sailed last evening for the scene of the wreck to assist in dealing out masts and stores. J A crowded meeting in support of the Plimsoll STATUE was held in London on Wednesday. Several further sub- scriptions were announced. It was stated that \he London Fire Brigade, most of whom are old sailors, hare offered to open subscription lists at each of the stations. Several sailors have also promised, and it was resolvsa to ask all the Homes in the kingdom and the Foresters, Oddfellows, and working men's clubs to help. An excursion train from Crieff to Perth on Saturday night rushed off the main line into a siding at Muir Town Junction, and smashed several goods wagons. A nnmber of the excursionists were severely shaken; but none were seriously injured. It is stated that the signal was against the Crieff train, owing to an Aberdeen train being due, but this the driver of the excursion train failed to observe. On Monday, a middle-aged labourer, named Aaron Vernon, was killed by another labourer named Ward Maley, at whose house he lodged. Both parties, who were in drink, had been quarrelling at a public-house respecting a woman with whom Vernon cohabited. Maley ordered Vernon out of his house, and on the man asking for his jacket, swore at him, and dealt him an unlucky blow in the throat, which killed him on the spot. The projected closing of the South Stockton Iron Ship- building yard during the coming winter is likely to be averted. The workmen were asked to accept a reduction of 10 per cent. in wages, and declined, but a compromise has been effected, at about 5 per cent reduction. This is consequent upon a batch of orders hav ing been booked lately. The painters in Stockton have given notice T^LAT they want an advance of 6d. per day in wages. On Tuesday Mr Thornton, the well-known cattle auctioneer, disposed under the hammer of 40 head of shorthorns, from the herd of Lord Skelmersdale. at Lathom House. The prices | ranged from 31 guineas to 250 guineas, and the average for the whole slightly exceeded 140 guineas. There were buyers present item all parts of the United Kingdom, the United States Canada, and the Australian Colonies. At the Police-court at N ewcastle-under- Lyne,on Wednes- day, Edward Maley, a labourer, was charged with killing another labourer, named Aaron Pernon, in the street on Monday last. Ittranspirt-d that the pri.-ontr, who had had a slight quarrel with the deceased, struck him a blow unnier the jaw, killing him instar.tiy. The medical evidence proved that death had resulted from dislocation of the neck. The prisoner was committed for trial on a charge of manslaughter. On Monday morning, at about one o'clock, an axle broke on a North Western goods wagon running CN the Highland Railway, about two miles from Boat of Garter Station, The train ran for about two miles before it was stopped, the axle tearing up the rails as it passed. Several trucks left the line, and others were smashed. The South pàs- SENGERS had to be transferred to another train south of the spot, the line being blocked all day. An inquiry was held on Tuesday, at Cr >ok, concerning the case of romantic and determined suicide by a girl aged 17, named Mary Moore. She was engaged to "be married, but from some unexpected came she and her lover disagreed. Then she took poison twice. On the fiist occasion she recovered. On the second occasion she steeped some matches in water and drank the liquid, with fatal efiects. A verdict or suicide while iu au unsound state of mind was returned. On Monday afternoon the officers of the Royal Artillerv at Dover entertained Captain Web' ,,¡; A garden pai i.Y, and in the evening he was presenter Ivith an address and a purse of money collected in the workshops at Dover. In responding he remarked that ho had not had a tele- gram from the Queen yet (an observation which was received with much amusement). Perhaps the wire was broken; but so long as the people appreciated what he had done he was content. Our correspondent at Gainsborough reports a very extraordinary affair which TOOL; place in that town late on Tuesday night. A man named Alfred Crackroft was fouid with his throat cut, but at present it is unknown whether it was by his own hand or that of another Mrs Crackroft asserts that, having left the house for a few minutes, she, on her return, saw a man leaving it in great haste and Crackroft at first asserted that another man had inflcted the injury. Subsequent statemens and inquiries, however, have led to a suspicion that Crackroft himself committed the act. The police are diligently investing the affair. A movement is being inaugurated by the Durham col- liery proprietors to reduce pitmen's wages, which stand for the pitmen proper at above 33 per cent. in advance of the prices of four years ago. It is asserted that many collieries are working at the loss. Most coals except households are very little in excess of the old rates. Best households have kept dear, but the South Durham collieries have just reduced the price from Is 9J to ls6d per ton, which will give them a better chance for a reduc- tion of wages before an arbitrator. The divers who on Wednesday examined the prow of THE Iron Duke, have reported that the injuries are of a superficial character, but their report so far is not suffi- ciently minnte to-enable the Chief Constructor to deter- mine whether the ship must be docked. The Admiralty warrant for holding the court-martial on the officers VFES received yesterday;and included not only Captain Daw kins, but Lieutenant Hawthorn, officer of the watch at the time of the collision, :1nd NAYIGA'.ING-LIEUTENANT Thomas; Mr Lishman, paymaster, will assist the defence. On Wednesday, a midwife, named Jane Wilkinson, 59 years of age, was charged be/ore the Stipendiary, at the Birmingham Police-court, with pracuring abortion. Detective Cooper stated that on the 2'3th July, a young widow named Charlotte Tedman went to a shop, on the door of which was a plate, upon which was Wilkinson, surgeon," and there saw the prisoner. She wished to know if she was cncicntc, and she bad since made a state- ment in which she, being in fear of death," declared that the woman Wilkinson used instruments upon her. He had taken the prisoner to the bed-side of Mrs Tidman, and she said" That is the woman." The injured woman was sure to die, and during the day her depositions would be taken. The matter was made much more serious from the fact that the prisoner procured the abortion without the consent or knowledge of the woman. MAEAVILLA COCOA.—FOR BREAKFAST.—The Globe, says" Various importers and manufacturers have attempted to attain a reputation for their prepared Cocoas, but WD doubt whether any thorough success had been acheived until Messrs. Trylor Brothers discovered the extraordinary qualities of Alara- villa Cocoa. Adapting their perfect system of preparation tothis fin, st of all species of the Theobroma, they have produjed an article which supersedes every other Cocoa in tll3 market. Entire solu bility a delieate aroma, and a rare concentration of tha JJU- rest elements of nutrition, distinguish the Maravilla Cocoa alrove all others. For homcepaths ard nval.ds we could not recommend a more agreeable or valuable beverage." .Sold M tin-lined pj'ets onl v, by all Grocers. TAYLOR BROTHERS,<jiHon, sole pro>;teto/S INFANTS' POWDEKS.—Thousandr, enn testify that tho Europa. Infants Life Preservers havo saved lite after all o ta, remedies have been tiisd in vain. 'J>EY CONTAIN no opium, ther, forearm the only safe medicine tor H "a ,t while teething, fee For scarlatina, measles, inflammation, jos.iveness, bronchitis &c., &c., they are invaluable. Test HT NIA.S, directions fer use and c'hor particulars enclosed wih ER -A packet. Mothers, by UMi-c; T,hem, save their offspring AND e.<cc,re the dreaded doctors' bills. Hold by aU chemists at Ta 1!d 23 per packet. Cau- tion-l void all soothing sYf1: ¡)f; ARD so-called soothing powders. Thov lill .I,ore infants than ail he d-seas s of CKT.dre>VPUU oge- ^r: c, 92 MILLARD'S TOILET H'E-I are celebrated for their great purity -vn-.l ueiiccy of rnauifacture. Cherry UOJTH Paste, 13 per n 1 *1 »'•< <-d for preserving and. beautifying1 tiu teeth aid "Invisible" Face Powder, packets ooxts, ♦ Is rnd 2s each Fminontly •ra^iini imwJrw » 1 v, 0 b; ;om to the com- t.'ex'ou. Hi^hly-scenUd VioJe1 rowder, 4d packets, 6d and Is 'MIC" oet»goii b"xe»; invaluable for toilet »,u.i nursery use. So!d by <j it-mists, Perfumers. &c, «•*»<! l>> K 11. Aiiliard and Sons, 44, :>rb cm, Loudon. Agents for Cardiff, S. I. Kernick,Drugsis 1 HUU