Newspaper Page Text
I BARS NO U&E H
PURE CREAM TARTAR.
SIOOO. Given f ,
If alum or any injurious subsumeen cn bo foiina
in Arutiwa' Poarl Baking Powder. Is !
tivoly PURE. hcing endorsed, and testimonial",
rwcivl imiii audi chemists as.S. Dana Hays, lloa
ton: M. Itelafontulw, of Chicago; and liusUtvui
Bode, Milwaukee. Never sold In hulk.
C. E. ANDREWS fe CO.
46 Michigan A v. 2S7. Visit At !fJl E. W utcr
r. .! Pncuit. In wnrru.iitrd biitia-
f uct'.rr to Its wonritr iu rwt r ay,
or tiiu money will bo refunded by
tlio person Irora whom it waa bought.
TMnnlv Cornet pronounced by rir Icinlli'if I'tivsh Inn
not Inliirluni to llio uirer. and en.loiMil l U'lier.
"hu " S comfortable and perfect mm f.Tbvt ever
luarttt" pKK ES bf Muill'iMtHcn I'Hhlt
Health PnwrvlaB. Kelf.AuJu.tlnB.
Abdominal (extra hear) S.0. NurliB.
Ileallb rriM-rvlna- 'line eoutlli .00. J'armron
Fur aale by Iradliia Uctull lleuler. everywhere.
CHICAGO COHSl'.T CO., tlilctitfo, III.
. I)R. KLINL'S GREAT
' jiirntl HitAin NDKr.va
I Dim Only m at crur. ma Ntava Arrto-
iitiHH.r'ns.l ru r.i sv.otp INI ALLIUM, if taken
tijirin t. il. Aiirln'Tll""l'". Treaiwi
f i trial bottle fre. to Kit Caeni.tliny pyin i-jkho
otiarir.! a bi,wti.n received, nrna ninn'.,r.ii aua
,.ir.r.-Mii'ldriofaftliotol to I) K.K LINK. '.I'll Arch
A QUESTION OF
Forgiveness or Dishonor.
"That is best. Our modern young
ladies lire so terribly wise and preter
naturally wide-awake. There is tlio
posinian; lie w ill give us something to
Ho slopped out of tlio window and
took the letters from the man two or
thref fur liiniself. and two for Erica.
"Walter's writing, one of mint'," he
Baid, giving his wile's letters into her
hand, and she bent over them to inako
out the hand-writing by the fading
light, and suddenly drew in her breath
with ulmost a Rasp.
She was triad that tho cloom hid her
deathly yuY from l'hilip a eyes.
J5ut lie had notieed that tdie Heeined
moved bv HonielliiiiR, and bendiiiR
down laid ids hand on her shoulder
villi a touch that thrilled her through
"What is it. my ehild-hns anything
startled you?" lie said, peril ly, and eho
pressed her hand to her heart for a
Beeond before she answered him.
".Nothing no, there is nothing.
Shall 1 ring for lights. i'liilipV She rose
up us she epoke, ami laid her hand on
the bill. " Von cannot see to read your
Mid turned then ami went out of the
room, and Phil'p hn'f sighed as the
door closed on her. He hi emed, after
all to have but half her eoniideiiee. Vet
it was nothing-nothing, lie could not
expect to know, to share, all that
Alone iu her dressing-room, Kriea St.
John read tho letter, the writing of
which had been ever a harbinger of
sorrow and anxiety. And her lips grew
w hite and her eves burned as she read.
"So vou've got totiravle House," Ar
nold tturrav wrote. "Mv poor Kricu!
You will be'uwfully dull there with on
ly your husband for a companion. It
makes me mud to think of it, Krica.
Ah, why could you not have cho:,en dif
ferentlv'r liut Ml say no more. Von
will only be angry, l am coming down
-fimu. of course ami will hang about
for a chance, of seeing you to-iuorrow
"To-morrow! Oh, Heaven! Ti
The girl hardly breathed, and looked
back in feverish haste to the date. Yes,
there was no mistiik'.
"To-night. That would be I-t
me read on and see."
"1 am In trouble, of course. 1 always
nm. And you will be an angel of good
ness and help me, won't you. Hrlca'?
Try mid i oine down to the south gate
Miiichow. 1 don't know how 1 shall
tide on if von can't help me,"
She let (he letter drop from her hands
Riid stood for many moments motion
less, her eyes gazing out Ktralght before
Lit. her lips set.
What miserable burden of sorrow
Lad been cruelly laid on this young JifV!
Hie had need, tmlei d, to remind herself
of the haueliiy of h,.- onih, a sanctity
Mie deemed inviol.iie n . i iib-i-il, to
look around this i.iuni ami plcluie to
' lierwdf again the fonn, l l.e face of the
. dying woman who had li ft her this log
ey of woe.
"Oil, Philip, J'hilipr'rV murmured,
pressing luTJiHJii'Hrt her hrelieml. "J
urn doing you bUUr wrung. 1 dare not
1 a x&
think of the end of all. Must it come
Krici took the Utter again, and Bet
ting light to the Paper, watched it c-m-Hiimo
away until but black nshe: re
mained, and even of those hIio removed
all trace. Then she went downstairs
again, entering tho library with u light,
"Well,"riho said, coming to Thilip's
side as he stood rending by the mantel
piece, "what ihtvs Walter nay r"'
l'hilip laughed; yet she fancied 1)0
looked a little troubled too.
"Poor lad," he said, "one of tho bur
dens of his letter is 'money.' I am
afraid I Bhall have to hint to biin that
there is a limit to my purse. He con
fesses, with a penitence which is amus
ing, that ho has been 'doing Hie bwell' a
little too much with the fellows of his
regiment. 'Champagne breakfasts and
dinners at Richmond,' he says, naively,
'do walk into a lot of money, Philip,
anil you know all the fellows'do it, ami
it looks so mean not to go iu for tho
same st vie.' "
"Is tliat the height of his olTenc -V"
said Krica, with a sinilo that was full
of pain. "You cannot refuse him,
Philip; tho lad has temptations, no
doubt, and the Lancers are expensive."
"Too expensive," said St. John; "and
I scan el v Know how to refuse him. I
suppose 1 shall have to run up to town
and look into it. Perhaps he does not
tell me all."
"Oh, Philip, you aro so cynical.''
"And von, l'nv dear child,'' and St
John smiled hall' sadlv, "you are so in
nocent. lo you think younger broth
ers alwavs make father confessors of
"1 trow not; they are young men still."
"Hut mere money spending or waft
ing." he added, after a pause, '-does not
trouble me. You can't make a crave
man out of a lad of twenty. If Walter
keeps clear of anything ungentlemanly
1 shall not look too closely into Ida ac
counts." "Ami what is your estimate of 'un
genilemaiily?' " "p.rica said, listening
cairerly for the answer; slip knew it
could only crush her wilh pain.
"A difiicii't question to answer. Pet
ting ,'md gambling, though not general
ly counted as degrading lor a gentle
man, in my code of honor are wrong,
and there are other ways of r.taining
honor, to which I don't think Walter
would be tempted, for, whatever his
failings, he is a St. John, lie tqie iks in
his letter,' Philip added, glancing at
the letter, "of a young fellow he seems
to be a good deal "with, lie says: 'I've
lately cottoned with a fellow, who's
really awfully nice, but awfully fast;
not one of your sort. Philip not" that I
accuse you of being anything so dreadful
as straight-laced nut he bets and plays
like "one o'clock," and goes ahead gen
erally, lie's got some money, but not
enough for all he does, and the devil
knows how he lives. Hut I tell you he
goes the pace, and I don't know how it is
one gets drawn on with him. lie's so
confoundedly jolly and winning, you
"His name he doesn't say hisname,"
said Krica, and all her control could not
prevent her voice from trembling a lit
tle, for her 'mart seemed to be crying
out but one name a name sho dreaded
"No, he does not mention his name;
lie sajs he has come down to Ringlon,
where there are races coming oil'.
Iiingto is not. far from here, is it.'''
"No, not far,v the girl said, mechani
cally "not far."
And then Philip turned again to his
writing, glancing at her from under his
long, dark eyelashes.
She nuzzled him a little to-night; she
was clearly not herself. Perhaps she
was oppressed with the nervousness
that must come about her these first
dayfl at the old house of her childhood,
or she was not well, or mayhap thai
dark cloud of thought would sweep lip
she was beginning to hud her life
with him dull and dreary.
The minutes slipped by fast to him;
slowly, each one laden with anxious
thought, to her; till at length be rose,
having finished the work he had to do.
"Kleven o'clock," he said, looking at
his watch. ' I am going to take this up
to the l'oslotlice. You w ill not mind
being alo-.ie for a little time, Krica, will
Jle half smiled as he said it, for she
bad afcarlexj spirit, and wos used to be
So he went out, and she heard his
light step on the gravel-path, atood
listening to the receding sound till It
ceased altogether and she knew he had
passed out into the road that led down
the cliff-side into the High-street. The
postollice was quite at the other end of
(Jrayle and some twenty minutps must
elapse liefore he could return.
'then Krica stood up, pale and anx
ious, yet resolute.
For a moment she paused, and a sigh
of utter despair una anguish escaped
"Shall i go," she murmured.
Then as the remembrance of her oath,
sworn by the bedside of her dying
mother, recurred to her, she shuddered
and clasped her hands together pitc
ously. "I must. I must," she whispered to
herself with white lips, and pushing
In r hand through her hair, she threw
a light shawl over her shoulders and
stenped out of the window into the soft
She hurried on w ith every sense on
the alert to catch tho faintest sound.
She sped down the damp walks across
the lawn, behind u belt of thick trees
that shut out the view of tho house,
then stopped, her heart throbbing, wild
ly, heavily, at tho little white gate that
gave access to un unfrequented road
winding drearily oyer tho hills inland,
paused as a man's figure came to t he
Kate, and swinging itopen, stood before
her and clasped her hamhi in his.
Sho trembled as she felt the clasp
that closed round her nerveless lingers
trembled with a vague sense of fear
sho could not control.
( HAI'TUU IV.
"I'OIl OUK MOTIIKU'S SAKK."
"Vou are come, then," hu said, in a
low voice. "How good you are, Krica.
How did you manage?''
"It matters not for you to a,sk," the
girl said, quickly, and with a Hash of
liaughtinei'.s in her tone. It chafed her,
and was a bitter humiliation to her
spirit, this enforced deception, this
stolen interview. "You must tell me
quickly what trouble you are in, and
what you want now, for I have but lit
"The old story, Erica," answered Ar
nold .Murruy, with a half laugh and a
half sigh. "Moiiev, ahvuvs that con
founded money. You wouldn't believe
what a lot of money a fellow can run
through In London."
"I can quite," sho unswercd, briefly,
when I know how yours goes."
"Women don't know anything about
bow our money goes," safd the young
man, gnod-humoredly. - "I've got rid of
heap, I know, and I'm awfully in debt.
I've sold one of my horses, but that
wou't do auito."
TI1K DAILY (JAIKO ' BPLLKTIX;
1 (tonx know what you have to do
with horses at all with your income,"
saiil Krica. "It is a needless extrava
gance." "It's a good stock in trade, dear coz."
replied Arnold, laughing. "Why, Hello
won rao enough money at the Aylesbury
Steeplechase last June to keep mo going
for a month. I haven't sola her it's
the park hack that went to Tatter
sail's." "And how long, Arnold," said the
girl, leaning her hands heavily on tlio
gate, "is this to go on? Them must
come an end some time. Do you ever
think of it?"
"Ah, now don't preach, sweet cousin,"
said Arnold, ent routinely, and still
jestingly, though he bit liiy 'ip, and in
the darkness she did not see tho Hash in
his eyes. "I really mean to do better,
and turn over a new leaf."
"You always mean to do so much,
Arnold," Krica said, sadly; "is that why
you accomplish so little? '
" 'Pon my word, Erica, I half think
you aro getting spoilt by Philip St.
John's notions," said Arnold, a littlo
" What do you know of my husband?"
she said. "Vou cannot even compre
hend his code of honor you cannot un
"1 don't pretend to," said her cousin,
dryly. "I wouldn't be cramped up to
his notions for something. What tho
deuce does he mean by banning vour
friends and being too haughty to "look
at a fellow. A Murray '8 as good a3 a
"Hush! Oh. Arnold, for pity's sake,
hush!"' The girl laid her hand 'on his in
an agony of tear, for he had raised his
voice in hisanger.aiid what if lie should
be heard? "I have not told him even of
your existence; he dors not knew your
name; ho has not harmed you. Hut tell
mo." she whispered, looking round, "is
it you who have been one of Walter's
companions? Tell me the truth, Ar
nold." lie paused before be replied, lie had
not meant her to know that he was ac
quainted with Philip's brother, and had
even asked Walter to say nothing of
him in his letter. Hut he saw it was
useless to deny it.
"1 knowhiih; yes, a young fool," he
said, contemptuously. "He's not a bad
fellow, but a perfect apron string
'Philip' here and Philip' there."
"Arnold," she said, eagerly, "don't
tempt him to do wrong, to do as you
do, Oh, for my sake, Arnold. I bear
so much, you can never know how
much, for you." Her voice faltered,
and for a moment she bowed her hei.d
on his arm, but almost instantly recov
ering herself she went on hurriedly:
"And. Arnold, ho will tell Philip about
you. and he might find out that you are
iny cousin, and Philip would forbid nie
to see or help you again. For our moth
er's sake, Arnold, for sho was your
mother in all but blood, drop this friend
ship; it will work dire woe."
Looking back afterwards both remem
bered those words, which neither knew
then as a prophecy.
Arnold, whose impressionable nature
was easily touched, was moved and
greatly troubled by the girl's sorrowful
appeal; he loved his cousin, and depend
ed upon her in a certain fashion, though
hp never by any chance deferred to her
w ishes or attended to her advice. He
knew quite well that she spoke no less
than truth, and it was a fresh count
against Philip St. John. Yet he had no
intention of giving up the acquaintance
of the young officer who seemed to have
plenty of monev at his command, and
through whom Iio could wound Philip
"Arnold,"' the girl said slowly, and
when she spoke so he knew that ho
could not openly resist her will, "diTyou
hesitate? Remember that 1 have power
in my hands, and I w ill do no more for
you if you refuse to attend to- the one
request" I have made of you fur jtam."
"Don't get angry, dear coz," he said,
lightly, seeing he Inust yield, outward
ly, atlepst. "I won't drag him down to
destruri ion: it's a wonder, in fact, you
accuse tu.! of will enough to lead any
one, liut now, Krica," lie added, "you
will help pie this once more: 'pon my
word I don't know where to turn for a
hundred pounds, and I'll sleep in prison
next week if you're hard-hearted.''
"A hundred pounds, Arnold!" The
girl paused, listening, the color coming
and going on her cheek; then she said,
hurriedly, "You shall have it. I will
send a cheque to you. Hut you must
go up to London and get the money
from the bank, not from anyone in
Kington. Hut, remember, Arnold."
she said, and again laid her hand on his
arm, "this cannot, must not, go on. I
have paid your debts over and over
again, and the fund that I have drawn
on for that by the power left me in
my molher's will cannot last for ever,
though vou seem to think it can."
"And'when 1 hat fails, I'll emigrate,"
said Arnold, lightly. "I should do cap
itally as a bheep-farmer, or something.
It's ii good thing your husband has no
control over that cash, Krica, and never
asks what you do with it, else poor Ar
nold Murray would have gone to the
dogs long since."
"Where shall I send?" said the girl.
brielly, without answering his last
"fm at the ( rown Hotel; semi up
Poynter, he won t split to a soul. i on
are going? Thanks, dear Krica, you
are mv tower of strength." he said.
wilh a softened tenderness in bis voice
that moved her to a strange emotion.
She did not trust herself to answer.
but only gave him her hand with a quiet
"Hood-night," and then, after watching
his form till it disappeared overtne lull
path, turned back to tho house, scarce
seeing her way for the blinding tears
that rose to her eyes, and that she strove
jti vain for a moment to check.
She must be calm, at least outwardly,
whatever misery she endured, for Philip
must not see a trace of emotion; and he
was so quick and firm, she feared to
meet his eyes uutil she had mastered
Almost as she stepped once more
through tlio winnow or the Horary,
Philip camo up the pathway, and tho
"lou should not have gone out In
this clnl night air. child." ho said, put
ting his hand on her shoulder, and
drawing her into the room; "and you
are trembling and while. I.rlea. 1 on
foolish child, you must not play with
yourseii so; i could not spare you now,
The soft tone, the tender caress, so
rare from him, were too much for nerves
already over-strained and excited by all
that had happened that eveningand
she suddenly threw herself on his breast
and burst into such bitter weeping as
startled him, and struck a shock of pain
to his very heart.
Was this Krica, so brave-spirited, so
firm, so little given to tears, so utterly
free from even thoso weaknesses that
endear women to most men, weeping
so, and apparently without cause?
Wiih it his fault? And even while ho
held her to him, and strove to soothe
her, he felt-uh, with that Biiro keen
ness that wus anguish, that she shrunk
from him, while even she sought this
shelter. And ho remembered these
till n if a ftftttrwardo.
She grew quiet after a littlo while,
making a terrible effort, and so gaining
back her self-conlrol, and, lifting her
bead, tried to draw herself away, but
this he diil not suffer.
"You are unstrung to-night, Krica,"
ho suid, wilh grave, half-sorrowful ten
derness; "is it my fault? You have
forgiven mo my stem, cold words to
day, my poor child; but they still
wound vour sensitive spirit. Tell mo
that is all, Krica?"
"No, no-oh, Philip, no! It Is not
that. I never thought again of them,
indeed, Philip. I shall be better iu tho
morning. It is nothing."
She stood twisting her wedding-ring
round and round her linger, silent for a
moment, and then said, falteringly;
"I suppose 1 am nervous and foolish
to-night, Philip, and coining back to
the old house "
She stopped, and St. John nsked no
more, but bent and gently kissed her
brow, holding her again for a moment
to his heart, and then he released her.
"Go to your rest, dear child," he said.
"Don't wait for nie; I have a letter to
And, glad to bo alone, Krica glided
away, and Philip sat down to write
again; but he could not command his
thoughts somehow to-night, even for a
simple letter, and tho pen drooped idly
from his fingers, for he could not lull
into peace the restless, anxious heart
that craved so for trust, and yet felt, or
fancied, in his almost morbid sensitive
ness, that trust was denied him.
Some weight lay on Krica 's spirit, the
cause of which she withheld from him.
The reason she hud given him was not
all that accounted fur the change which
had passed over her.
In the fierce light that (lashed on him
later, under its scathing heat all that
perplexed him now seemed clear and
distinct. Now it was but vague con
jecture. C1IAITER V.
TAILING IX 1,0 VB AND DUTY.
Thilip St. John did not go to London
to see his brother, but sent him a letter
and a cheque instead, for he did not
care to leave Krica alone at (Jrayle
House. She seemed not at all her usual
self, sometimes sitting for hours, silent
and musing, grave and sad, he thought;
at other limes bright with a sort of
feverish excitement of manner that was
Was it his fancy, too. that she seemed
now and then to shrink from him,
while leaning upon him more than she
used to? she had, indeed, been t:.e
cause of his remaining at (irayle instead
of going to town, for she had seemed to
dislike the idea of being left alone, and
asked him if it was necessary for hhi
to go, and yet bad disclaimed any exact
wish to keep him from his brother. In
truth, she dreaded w ith a wild fear thai
Walter should tell Philip the name of
this friend of his who was "not of
Her mind was on the rack as long as
Arnold was at Kington distant about
sixteen mrtcs from lirayle and she
lived in these days on suspense, tortmed
by a thousand fears, and more than all
by the necessity of this miserable si
lence she deemed herself bound to main
tain to her husband, and which was a
One evening lato in September the
fill wandered down to the beach where
'oynt'T's boats lav.
It was quite dark, and a fresh breeze
was blow ing iu from the sea and lifting
the loo.,e tresses that fell on her shoul
ders. Philip had ridden over to a village
some miles away to see. a frigid, who
was slaving there, and he would not be
back '.rit if lii'e; so, weary and sad of
heart, Krica hud put on' her hat and
thrown a shawl round her and come
down to commune with the sea, as slie
used to d i when a child.
The sea was as sorrowful as herself,
she llioiight. and mutt'-ring softly to
her as the waves came rolling in almost
to her feet.
There was something in the desola
tion of the seme that exactly chimed in
with her mood. The daik mass of wa
ter stretching away, it seemed, into in
finitude; the bleak" rocks rising up to
right and left; only here and there a
light gleaming from some house up on
the bills; the perfect si illness that was
intensified by the sullen wash of the
Krica stood, her fingers lightly inter
laced, her hands hanging down loosely
before her, the. large, mournful eyes
looking out with a fixed, changeless gaze
into the darkness.
Did it cross her then that she was
keeping her vow at a tremendous cost,
a cost that outweighed the' sanctity of
an oath made even to tho dying?
It might have done so, but the very
words so burned into her brain to her
were justification: "at wlruever cost to
yourself or to others." Thfy shut up
any loophole of escape. She could not
see one ray of light in all her daikness,
no end to the misery that had fallen on
She was so absorbed in her own
thoughts that a step crushing the
shingles did not rouse tier. If she heard
it at all she probably deemed it thai of
some fisherman going home, and she
.started and sprang back almost a pace
lit the voico that fell on her ear, as she
saw the man who stopped before her.
"Arnold," she said, under her breath,
"whv have you come?''
"To see you. dear coz," Arnold re
plied, coolly. "I weiit uuto the house,
and tho servant housekeeper, i sup
pose by her venerable looks-told me
you were down on the beach, so 1 came
"What made you goto the house?"
said tho girl, quickly and sternly.
'Hecauso 1 knew St. John wasn't
there," answered Arnold, laughing. "I
saw him over at Melwood, and took care
to ascertain from Pointer that he
wouldn't be back till late. Poynter is a
treasure, lie knows everything."
"How long are vou going to' stay at
Kington?" asked Krica, without reply
ing to his remarks.
"The races come off In a week or two;
I shall leave after thai; if my horse
th.it is, Kenton, you know wins I shall
be the richer by several hundreds; if
ho loses I shall havo to make myself
"You, and such as you," sho said,
slowly, "are enigmas to me. Can you
chooso a life that literally hangs on the
chance of ono horse distancing another
in a given spnee? Can you like a life
that is one agony of suspense?"
"One gets used to it," ho said, shrug
ging his shoulders, "and, besides, vou
make so much out of nothing. What
you call 'an agony' of suspense, is a
sort of pleasurable excitement. I sup
pose you can't understand it. There's
something exhilarating in tho thought
that you may bo rich or a beggar to
morrow, as the turn of the dice or the
running of a horse may decide."
"No, I don't understand it. I only
know, Arnold, that this life of suspense
is killing mo."
lie started, and a look of shocked
wonder came into his face; then he laid
his hand on her shoulder.
."What life of suspense V"" be said.
OCTOBER 15, 1882.
"Why do vou make yourself so unban,
py ubout tho whole thing, Krica? I urn
not worth grieving over so much,"
"I cannot forget that wo played as
children together; that vou were once
innocent as others are; that you bear a
good name, and that you have sullied
that name. 1 cannot forget that you
had a mother'n love to guard you and
oh," Krica said with sudden passion,
clasping her hands over her face, "I
cannot forget would to Heaven I could
for one brief moment! that on me is
laid the burden of striving to win you
back to honor and duty."
Arnold did not speak, but stood in
perfect silence, half amused by tho
passionate bitterness with which Krica
had uttered thooo words, yet hulf an
"Why do you try?" ho said, sullenly,
at length; "it's no earthly use. You've
told mo often enough that I'm every
thing that's bad. I can't help it if you
are so sensitive as to be wretched be
cause I play and bet, and so on, and be
cause vour husband is too honorable to
allow Ills w ife to know such a person.
Thousands of fe'lows do the same,
Krica; you don't know the world a bit,
and thl'nk everything dreadful."
"Thousands!1" said the girl, clasping
her hands together, and suppressing
the sterner words that sprang to her
lips, "luring themselves to ruin; they
'only' play and bet. And, Arnold, you
know well that my husband would not
turn from you if you renu mbered that
you bore an honored name."
"1 would not sue any man for his fa
vor," said Arnold, haughtily. " steer
mv course to please myself, not any
man living. For you, Krica," he went
on more softly. "1 could try to be some
thing more different; but you say your
self I am weak, and if ever one' wants
to get out of the set Fin in, there are a
hundred fellows to pull you back. I
won't trouble you much after these
races are over. I'll go away abroad
"Abroad or at home, Arnold," Erica
said, sadly, "yon are the same. I can
not shut rny eves to a sorrow because it
is not actually at my doors. And you
always turn to nie for help; how limg
shall I be able to give it to you? Ami
if Philip were to find out that 1 helped
you 1 she shivered uncontrollably,
and Arnold said quickly:
"lie must not-need j.ot; you would
not break your oath, Krica?"'"
"Have no fear," she answered, with a
quiet scorn that stung him. "I deem
my honor sacicd, and I have sworn to
shield your name from public shame. I
can do no mom than that. Hark!" sho
said, suddenly bending forward, striv
ing to pierce the darkness, and sin!;in x
her voice to a whisper; "did vi a hear
nothing? A step? (iu, Arnold; you
must not stay."
She put out her hand, lav mg it w ith
quick force mi his aim; but he paused
yet a moment.
"Say vou forgive hip. Erica." he said,
earnestly, with' one of these ll.i-.ln-s f
better feeling that veiled to a e i I tin
extent his real nature even Ip'in Iut.
"Try and think of nie less bittci U : try
and remember how I love you." Yoii
are the onlv friend I have. Erica."'
Hut she did not heed him. still head
ing forward, looking up the beiu -h; but
suddenly, with an almost frantic ges
ture pushed him from her.
"(io go. Oh. for Hod's sake, leave
me," she whispered with white lips. "It
"Why should I not meet him?" said
"Why?'' She turned almost fiercely
upon him. "Hecauso I dare not ow n
yon as Walter's wild companion. Do
you comprehend now?"
He turned quicklv then with a low
"("ood-night," and strode away swiftly
through the darkness, and then, with an
elfort that seemed to almost exhaust all
her powers, the trirl braced herself to
meet Philip calmly, to combat any ques
tions he might ask.
He came dow n to her, and his first
words sent a lightning thrill through
every nerve; his tone had in it some dis
pleasure, and his question was almost
"Who was that talking to you. Krica?
It is late for you to be out on the beach
It wus well that in the darkness he
did not see the swift upward look of
despair, the clenching of the small
hands together. Hut she answered
him. speaking carelessly:
"There's nothing to be afraid of. No
one will hurt me here. You have Lon
don notions. Philip."
"You are too careless," he answered
more quietly, and wrapping her shawl
round Iter, for she shivered in I ho night
wind, "and It is too cold for you to bo
out. if there were no other' reason.
"Who was with you?"
"I was talking' to Nat Poynter," sho
answered in a low voice, crushing back
Heaven knows what, agony in her heart
as she uttered the he-the' first she had
ever uttered. And the i U was to the
man who loved her! "Sin.!! we go hack,
Philip? I did not know il was so late.
You are punier than von c: peeled to
be, are you And del vou meet Mr.
He told h- r. m ('.., v.vi,! bmdi up the
beach, of his v.. n i . : iv h.., who he
had met. and of s liitiaiy .viieme
that had been proposed to him, ami the
g'nl walked by his side, hearing all he
said, hut like one in a diciiin, and feel
ing all the while as though a dense
black tuisl had ri .en up between her
and Philip, as though she had fallen
suddenly from his sphere.
Ami she knew Unit Iut own words
had done this, and that she had taken
one more rdeji iu that "failure of lovo
and duly"' which she fell, with a deadly
shiver, he could scarcely forgive.
The housrkeepM', w ho had como to
hi r from her a'uit's bouse, met her iu
the hall and took her shawl hum her.
"A gentleman eaiiie to-night, mad
nm," she said, "ami asked for you, Ho
did not give a name, but said he was an
"An old friend!" repealed Krica.
And the housekeeper added:
"I told him you had gone out on the
bench, and then he went awav."
"Thanks. Janet. It doesn't matter.
Perhaps boil call again."
And the girl entered the drawing
room, nud began putting away some
music that was lying about, with a sort
of suppressed impiilieneo in her manner
which did not puss unnoticed by Philip
St. John, and he glanced at her covert
ln, and checked the sigh that could not
ease tho weight at his heart. Sho could
scarcely bear tho gentle, tender kiss he
pressed on her brow when she came to
say "good-night;" sho was tired, she
said, so weary, though it was early, and
long afterwards when he came upstairs,
she was lying wilh her hands locked in
a strained clasp over the pillows, and
the long, dark lashes that swept her
cheek were wet still with tears, and sho
seemed restless in her very deep sleep.
"Poor child." he said, 'and did not
now Btiflo the bitter sigh Hint passed his
Hps, "have I in ula one morn miserable
after all? Is It my fault? Lovo begets
lovpso they say; it may be bo; but
Chill and Fever.
Slmmoua Llvor Kcsu
i tutor ruiin lirunki ihu
clniu aud currlci tlia
fever out ol UiBy ln in,
1 1 curi'n whun all othur
1 V t tho rollef M.d 1'nrn
of UiIh dlHlruDHliiK dla-
eaax uh Minmona Llr
Tlio Ki'Kiilator will poHlllvly cure tlila U.rlhlu
(llnciiHO. W o gum-rl emphatically wlial w know to
ahould not ho nanltid u a trilling ailment. N.
tn re (tumamltt tlio utiiiorl regularity of the bowaln
Tlicrt foro asHtct tiaturu by tnkluK Sinilnona Llvur
ltrjiUlalor. Il la harmk'M, mild unit utkxtual,
One or two talilrnpomifula will rellfva all tlia
trouble iuchlunt to a bllioua atate, nocli aa Jiaunea
Dmidni'M, i)rowlufCn, IMatreae alter eating, a bit
ter bad taiite Id the uioulu.
reraona may avoid all atlarka by occaalonally
takluir a done of Slmmoua Llvur Ki uulator lo keey
tlio liver lu healtby actlou.
13 AD 13 1 IE ATI 1!
BimcrallyiirlaiiiK from a rtlaordercd atoiuach. can
he corrected by taking Si in m hub Liver Kotfulklor.
Sliniiiona Liver KKiilat r aoon eradlratu tlila dl
t'HUf from the a,Hh-tn, leaving tba akin clear aud
Irrc from all tmptirltiea.
Children aiiih rlnir with colic aoon experience re
lief when Simmon Ller Heiftilator la administer
ed. Addlla alito derive treat lienelll from thli
medicine. It la not unpleasant ; It la bariulea
and elledlvu. Purely vejji-ubu.
J 5 LA D 1 ) K U &; Kl DNEYS
Moat of I he dlrraare ol Hie bladder originate from
tbore of the kldneya. lieatoto Ihe actlou of tho
liver lull uud buth the kidueya aud bladder will
tlCTake only Un' genuine, v. blch alwyi tun on
tiiu wrapper the red X trade mark and aignalure ol
J.Il.ZEIEIN Ac CO.,
Formic' by ill drugeina.
Tin: m:v itn.iicnr.
;.'iot 1 .ruuuU'd.)
AND BLOOD PURIFIES.
This new Prrnedy ta compounded
from the bent known curative, euch
Ho n, Malt Extract. Cacara Sagrada
(Sacred n&rki, liuchu. Dandelion and
SaraaparMln, combined with aa agree
able I'.iomaUw Li.. ...
These Remedies act uron tha Liver.
They act upon the Kidney.
They Regulate the Bowels.
They Quiet the Nervous Syatem.
They Promote Digestion
They Nourish, btiengthtn, Invigorate.
They give Tone, Health and Energy.
HOPS AND MALT BITTERS
are the ORIGINAL and ONLY BIT
TERS containing Malt Extract.
A-k your Iru;i!it t .r them, and be aura
thui the label lm on it the (our words
HOPS AND MALT BITTERS
iu Urge red letter.
l"47"Take no other.fj
At Whnlrtale and Retail by alldealrn.
nocur.sTEit uedicisk co.,
C O A. I .
D Stoves D
fc? Tinware. S
I-j. :e. tjstoe,
i .; . Manufacturer and Dealer In
fith Street, between l'om'1 Avo. aud Levee.
CHOKE 1J0IUN0 A SPECIALTY",
ALL KINDS OP AM'JNITION.
Safe Noiiiliea, All Kind" ol Keya Mado.
COO I j
JOHN JOHNSON & CO'S
Lute Knuhltr's, on Eighth Street.
Callforn.a Wlnuo, Clw of overv choice brand
aud Liquor of all atnda alwaya on baud. Cuatuut