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CUICAOO COKfiLT l., C'ltlciittD, HI.
Fonrivi.'iK'ss or Dishonor.
Ha sighed as lie thought of t hut, and
looked longingly towards a baker's shop
he passed; be had tasied nothing since
the early morning, and had been ill, and
he whs feeling taint and weary, and
was eugry and ill at ease too.
"That young scamp." be prowled;
"Miss Erica's to bo unhappy along o'
him. It's a gettin' late; the sun'llbe
down soon. Huiloa! hero's a park."
He had walked sum;' good wav. and
had come upon tlie (ireeti Park from
Grosvenor-plaee; the Mtdit was n-frt-sh-ins
to his eyes, and be had a?'-ed the
night in worse places than a tolerably
oulct park. He drank some water at a
drinkin t'onntain neurone of the gates,
and entered. "I've some notrCn I've
neen this 'ere afore," said be; "that be
the duke's statier over there, I mind.
Wei), I can't go no further I'm dead
beat. Curse that scamp! 1 ain't goin'
to starve for him."
It was a secluded path in which he
found himself. There was no one in
aight, and he was the solitary occupant
of the bench on which he "had unk
down, with a groan of mingled weari
ness and mental disturbance. But he
had not long ..at so. when a step, crunch
ing the gravel on the pathwa.v. caught
bis ear, and he looked up. wj' h no idea
that the gvnt!ivna:i rutnin.; iwiftly to
wards biin bad anything to do wan hirn
or his conci-'ins.
As be raine closer, bn"rvrr, Xat
bent forward with a chmiyf of face;
the listless wpHiiness lett it, giviiie
place to an eager scrutiny, an 1 he ball
rose as the young man name by.
He, on bis pait. suddenly p.v.iscd. and
started bark with an abrujit exclama
tion of "The devil!"
"Mr. Arnold, as I'm alive!" And it
eemed as though, for a moment, .Vat
could get out no more.
Hut Arnold was not so much taken
"What are you doing here, in the
devil's name?'' be said, roughly. A
flush was on bis face, bi.i nmniier ex
cited; lie ecenied to have had. Nat
thought ipiickly, too much to drink;
but be was not to be put aside like that,
and resented the words and the tone.
"I came up to see you,"' he said, and
rose up and faced lb" voting man with
a truculent air tlird somewhat daunted
him or a moment. ! went io that
there plaee mmi writrd from, and you
was gone. Twam't fair that, Mr. Ar
nold." "What U'you want me foi 'f" said Ar
(romhis fe. "JT Mudl know what
tis to taint. Nat 1'ovnter's dander, lie
shall sutler for i. I ain't a goin' to
Htarve for him. blowed if I will." And
be walked away with as brisk a pti'-e hs
be could command.
CII A IT lift . VI.
"NAT rOYNTKK'ti r DMIXMOX."
, I'bilip St.Jobn bad once nioro seen
liis wife-had rpokcii to her-had felt
the. touch of bcr hand on his, and that
brief half-hour bad broken up tho
foundations of bis self-control that
case of granite it had taken, it beamed
to him, a IH'e-time of anguish to build
up. And the Ktrotig love that had been
fio cruelly stabbed -not dormant, but
Btill secondary to the burning sense of
wounded honor and the old Rting of in-lustlee-thls
strong love, own-whelmed
by other passions, woke anew to nt rug
pie desperately, to frame every praver
that she had pleaded, to seri: reason for
her flight, tenable or iintenaide, to fmd
I cars no u?fc f
I J ' jlMPOUWPTORIS
lr.l !- Jbi . ' "5 -Jf i
RAO 1 ?
flaw In tho chain' of undented evidence
that condemned her.
She had knelt at his feet and lifted
her eves to his, eyes that could only
mirror n stainless soul. Was It possible
for guilt to wear such aspect t How
fair she was. diademmed with sorrow!
The music of her voieo echoed back to
him; he heard it day and night. Th9
touch of her band lay still on bis, Ah.
how wildly she had clung to him, how
frantically besought only his mercy!
And ho had put her from him, and de
nied even that. He could endure that
terrible strain of passionate emotion;
it had been possible when to look on
her was to bring back the sense of all
so irrevocably lost; but now, in solitude,
in silence, it seemed rs though thero
must be some different reading to give
to her conduct.
Again bo traveled over all the fell ev
idence, not one tittle of which she had
denied, simply avowing her innocence.
There was no flaw in that, lie knew
that it was only sentiment, not reason,
that pleaded for her so powerfully. He
had never for one second thought to
take the wife who had so trampled his
honor under foot back to his heart, and
forgiveness and belief in Iter faith went
so baud in hand together that it seemed
impossible to give the one without
yielding the other. What was it then
Lis hart strove for?
And for this mental question l'hilip
St. .lohn so ch ar, so accustomed to
know and to weigh motives for his ac
tions bad no answer.
He was tossed by contending passions
once more. He would have swept Jier
from bis verv memory ff that had been
possible, yet 'vearned with a passionate
longing to clasp her to his heart. And
day by day such conflict warred iu his
A week bad passed since he bad seen
Erica, and there had come no rest,
mental or physical-not even the hollow
surface-calm be bad obtained. before;
even that was not left him. Work, of
which he bad more to do t ban he could
get through, was no barrier to thought;
fur even in work there was ever the
d.ttk background, and the very effort to
concent rate bis thoughts on bis work
was continual pain, and at times even
that power deserted him.
On the evening of IVynter's meeting
with Arnold, he sat writing in bis st tidy
writing, or trying to write, for the pen
dropped from Ids fingers often.
lie rose up. and began pacing up and
down the room, n: though in movement
Iih could find some -relief: thought was
K:s- ol torture than when he w as si ill.
Uisown man came in, and l'hilip
looked up as lie paused.
"I am not busy, Andrews; what is
it?" he said.
-If you please, sir. there's a man be
low wanting to see you; he's very ur
gent, and insisted that you'd see hiut.
i'oynter's bis name. sir. '
V'hilip drew a quick breath, and the
blood Hushed for a moment redly to his
cheek. What did this man waiit with
himy Some sharp, sudden, wild hone
leapt up and sank again in that second's
pause, before he said quietly:
"l will see him; let him come up."
The man bowed and retired, wonder
ing within himself what possible bnsi
nes a rough-looking seafaring man
count ti...c with the famous HicwUw.
lie preceded the man upstairs, however,
m decorous silence, inwardly n little
amused at his gingerly way of treading
on the thick, soft carpets, and the some
what wondering kuks be cast on the
BUtuesand Ilowors in the ante-room.
royftcr 'Vouha 'MMuWl Vm
v. I tt seemed to bint a magnificent
chamber, and raoro than all, in tho
pvevnoo of Philip tt. John.
I; wa with rrvngied emotions that
the wnter scanned,1 for a brief space,
the form and fcaturen of this man,
w hom he knew to have had some com
plicity in I-.riea s flight, and who had
iicveitheli-ss lied to him: he saw that
Nat was terribly altered and e.gi d. and
that he looked haggard and wan. Was
t !;!.;, in litis hauchty !:.vi;r; some pity
for this evidence of sul'tei ing'
Uef.jve he cou'd i'oyntor. who
had blood silent and with drooping form
where the servant bad left lain, sud
denly sank down into a chair with a
groan, and Philip sprang forward.
"dive me fooa. for pin's sake," he
muttered, putting his hand to his fore
head, and looking up with uncertain
gaze Into the dark handsome fac.
'I've been sick; I ain't had nothin' this
There was wine in anadjoinir.? pvt.),
and St. John poured out some and i ive
u to at. wno swallowed it eagerly .
If in Philip's stern heart there had
been one second's turning from giving
to this man of his charity, it had never
reached tte detinitencss of distinct
frrlacable. vengeful in some things
to nlmor.t a sinister fault, there was too
mucit nobility of soul to harbor for an
iij -tant such a shrinking.
l'oynter rallied almost directly, and
half lose, but Philip put him bark in
the arm-chair and bade him sit still.
"I asks your pardon, sir." said Xat.
humbly he was quite subdued under
the continued eff.jcts of sickness, want,
remorse, and awe; "I didn't, ougbter
'ave sat down in Your presence, but I
was took like all sudden faint like.
I've come to tell you summat, Mr. St.
He said the last words in a low voice,
and when he had said them, drew a
quick breath and leant back, as though
he dreaded the eff ect his words might
have on his bearer.
Put Philip only folded his arms and
"Say on. " I am willing to listen."
If again that lierce thrill of an almost
impossible hope born rather of his own
longing than of any reason flashed
through him, he suppressed all signs of
it utidt-r these measured tones.
Yet that ready acquiescence, that di
rect challenge to plunge into bis story,
He bad thought that Philip perhaps
would at once have demanded to know
whether w hat ho had to tell him con
cerned Erica, thus breaking the ice for
It is always a difficulty for the unedu
cated mind to go straight to tho point,
and to find language proper to clothe
.that point in.
lie glanced up furtively and twisted
his hat round awkwardly, and at: last
"It's about Miss Prica. sir."
Philip had known that, bad nought
to prepare himself to hear her naino
spoK(i). and to endure the subject
touched on. Yd. when tho name so
sweet, so bitter to him, passed the
iifan's bps. if fell on him with a shock
that struck hko an actual blow. Ilia
armor was not proof a -ainiit tbatapear-thru-t
"Yes; go on." he said, and be shaded
his forehead with libs hand, betting him
i"'!f to endiiiauee.
"lju sorry now, sir," l'oynter' said,
dejr, t' llly. J didn't tell you afore, but
Mks Priea begged and prayed me to
keen dark iibotit Mr. Arnold.
" ho id thal'f" Philip interrupted.
'That's her cousin. sirMr. Arnold
Muiiay they was brought up liko
CAIRO BULLETIN: SUNDAY MOUNINU. NOVEMBER 10. 1882.
brother and sister. It was him etie
went off with to get him oil safe. He
always was a wild, bad scamp, Mr. St.
John, broke his aunt's heart Mhw
Pricu's mother that was. Ho was a
deal o' troublo to missy, bettin' and
gainblin', and the like. She's paid his
debts many a time. Who telled me, sir,
tliH very day you catuo to (j ray io that
nhe didn't dare tell you about him, 'cos
as how you wouldn't let her help him
no more, and he waa such a disgrace
too. lie used to come over and she,
piv'd bun money. He witi down to
Kington for them races with with"
be htopped. clearing his throat, and
then went on "with your brother, sir.
They both bad bets on Teuton,. 'ind lost,
then they quarrelled about the money,
'cos Mr. 'Wiilter said tho other had led
hiuiontobet, which he did. sir; an' after
supper at tho Crown , thev both went
out, an' Mr. Arnold was that Stephen
Masters as killed vour brother.'"
"Great Heaven!" broke from Philip's
white bps. and bis right band was
clenched till the blood was forced from
tho llnger-nails. "I seo it all -all."
His voice sank to a whisper, and for an
instant ho bent his face down in
uncontrollable emotion on the coal
marble mantel-piece. "Oh, Priea, Erica,
what had I done that you should fear
Only a brief moment; of giving wav,
the next he had rallied witb'stron? self
control, his proud spirit dialing that ho
had shown even this much.
"Go on," he said, and resumed bis
former attitude, while Povnter told him
how Hint he also Laving come from the
races, was crossing the woods when ho
heard voices in the pathway. He con
cealed himself for a little while not
wishing to get into any fray, and thus
saw Arnold and Walter; they were both
angry, and at last Arnold struck tho
lad a blow that knocked him down be
fore Xat could prevent It.
"He was dead, sir; it wasn't no use
stoppin'. and then Mr. Arnold begped
.me for Miss Erica's sake not to say
nothin'. and help him, and 1 shouldn't
never want. 1 hid him in my place, and
then he went off to Miss Kvio.i 1 li" night
you left, sir, and she. to save bun from
the law. helped bint to escano. she was
afraid to lose sight of him. he was that
shaky like, an' 1 don't think. 'i-on my
word, sir, the poor lass knew u bat
was a-doin". I tried to tdl her, I did
indeed, but she wouldn't .listen. He'
thought she'd get back afore you roLie.
and didn't think of the servants a-wi it
in'. Well. 1 took them in my boat a
far as Dalwood. aud they got t1"' train
there. And I tell yon. 'Mr. Si. John,
that brave lass, slie went to London
with that infernal scoundrel, an' she
see him on board a steamer as look him
to Amsterdam, and she hadn't never a
minute's rest or sleep to her eyes for
fear of surprise. An' when she come'd
back, she was as white as a Ldjo.-t. then
she did cry, to be sure, poor lass!" He
brushed away the tea is from his own
eyes, and his voice was quite hnkv as
he finished. "An' that's a'l. sir. 'Mr.
Arnold didn't do what he said, but I
kep' on for Miss Erica. I got sa k and
out o' wfik. aud wanting bread to my
mouth, and I've lust come'd up to see
Mr. Arnold. He'd gone awav from his
, but he come'd across me in
that there rsark there, an" be defied me,
and bade me go to the workhouse. You
see. Mr. St. John, I'd been sorry and
worrited for missy afore, and I would
give somethin' to sep her happy, and so
I got vour address from a shoo 'ere. and
come straight off. Arid that's all. sir."
" 1 --,.AV, n Uftl, 1.,1-;,, f, f
see through the gathering gloom the
dark facfc still in the shadow. He al
most trembled as he remembered the
passionate words Philip had uttered
when he, Xat. bad pleaded for Erica
three years ago. He knew or could
guess something of tho fierce passion
which must be roused at his storv of
wrong, and mistrust, and deception.
He had not said, because he did not
know, tie reason why Erica had so
liampledon the love and faith of her
husband in order to shield her couin,
ami it bad not entered his mind at first
to think that Erica might still not bo
innocent in Philip's eyes. Jn fact, fait
to shield through thick and thin her
cousin, though in doing so she dceplv
wron.red her husband, must bear ll.c
suspicion of guilt. Put it came to hirn
now, when no voice or movement of
Philip's broke the silence, and he rose
hastily and came forward a step, lean
ing en the table.
"Sir." he said, eagerlv, trembling with
excitement, "you will believe now Mi:;s
Erica ain't what you thought. It
wasn't for Mr. Arnold she dune it all, I
swear, but 'cos her mother was so set
on him. loved him better nor Miss
Erica, sho did."
"Silence!" Philip said, so low, so
sternly, his voice so shaken with the
passion that almost defied his will, that
X'at flushed and grew pale. "The man
is my brother's murderer; is not that,
enough? for you, miserable dog, 1
could lind it in my heart to lav you
dead at my feet for thp part yon' have
played in all this. But that you aro
necessary to me. I would cast vou off
without pang or pity, to starve in these,
streets of London. Were you man or
devil to see that poor girl suffer under
tho vile charge for the guerdon of a
little gold? Death! The thought is
madness!" He paused abruptly and
walked with quick strides to the other
end of the room.
"My verv life reel," he half whis
pered, Ipoking upwards. "Ah, blood
for blood, and for every hour of her
suffering bis shall bo counted drop for
Ho was outwardly calm when he
came back to Poynl'er's side, and bis
voice bad not lost its sweet meas ire
as be spoke.
"You will." he said, give all this story
you have told me as evidence against
"lo you know where he is now?"
"Xo, sir. I don't; he went off so quick
I couldn't follow him. bein' weak like."
"Weak! Ah. ves. I had forgotten."
Plnhp swept away the, silky wave of
hair from his forehead and stood in
1 bought for a moment, then he said:
"You know bis last addiens?"
"It was 12 Gilbert-street. Pimlico,
and ho was called Hightiut there, sir;
tho police would bo able to find him, I
daresay; and he used to be well known,
sir. in London, used to be great friends
with tho ofilecrs in Mr. Walter's regi-inent-I
don't know the name.''
"'The Lancets. I know. Them is no
tune to be lost." Ho touched the bell
and Andrews came up, '-j'ake this
man dow nstairs," ho said, briolly, "and
see that be has food, and get mo a han
som, and, Poynter, see that you keep
Andrews retired with his rharge
more and more perplexed, and l'hilip
remained for some time in ,n(, pravu
thought; be must put aside for a time,
all emotion ot joy, r w ln,w or r.
rriorse; he had stem work to do first.
As soon as I'oynler was refreshed he
drove with ihliu p, Scotland Yard, and
there the boatman repeated such part
of the story lie had told Mr. St. John a
was necessary to establish the chatve
against Arnold .Murray, alias Stephen
Martin; and Philip thought that Erica
would know where- Arnold was, and
though his heart was bleeding for her,
he never shrank from the steadfast pur
pose to which he had set himself he
would yield no mercy to his brother's
murderer, and to tho man wdio had
suffered Philip St. John's wife to bear
the reproach of a dishonored name.
The sun was not yet sunk when l'hilip
ramo out again into the soft warm air
there wan a deep, steadfast light in the
dark eyes, a light that had never shone
there from the first shock of that terri
ble night three years before. Some
crushing weight was lifted from his
heart, and yet there was still a trem
bling doubt of expectancy, hope and
fear. He glanced up at the sun, quite
low in the linaAens. and looked at his
wat'di; every pulse throbbed and burned
wit ii the longing that could not bo con
trolledto see her once more face to
face, to plead for forgiveness as who had
once pleaded to him, to hold her in his
arms, to claim, to keep her us his own
foroverniorc. He could not wad for
another dav, ho could not live through
the agony 'of a night that left her in
"I cannot," ho muttered, passionate
ly. "I will not. Erica, my life! each
minute that holds me from your side is
He hailed a passing hansom, and
sprang iu, telling tho man be should
have extra faro if he drove quickly.
And the man obeyed and never slack
ened speed till he drew up his horse, all
fo'iming and wit, tit the galeway of the
little njmpst.ead villa.
You need not wait," Philip said,
laving a sovereign iu tho man's hand;
aiid he drove oil well pleased with tho
liberal interpretation id' extra fare.
( AX LOVE ATOM!?
Tlie servant Mary looked a little sur
pi ;ed as sin ushered tho savior of
Knout lit into th di.iwing-rooin.
My iti's! !:, is in her Ivnidmr, sir,"
she v.id. rather sliilly, "I'll loll Icr
w i -1 1 io see bet; but she gave oidct
t;i,.i ;!i" w lu'ilu't S"0 no :ti ."
.-ii ' ret 'n-d and wen' upstairs. return
ie j in a tioiiVi't or t ro.
M- itii-ite.-is caiited sc.- you. sir,"
she 'id; ":d:c ain't w '!!."
.! must ai: '- ul see ir." Phiti
M'd, pu; I'lV, ad Weill out into Ui
'i "w? ,:.r thif w le-r .e!f m I-.h a ay in
"You can't sue her. .'.I'," 'he l ird.--
"Y'U mustn't go up. Who arc .m' '
-m i nl aside, crirl." and Philip
his band on her shoulder and s u itr lie,
w itii gentle force out of his way. speak
i'VT stet nlv; "I am in n mood to b -trilled
witli. I am Philip St. John."
He did not wait to see the etiect of
his words, but sprang lightly up Mi"
stairs, and paused, uncertain, with
wildly throbbing heart.
Tlie door hep re him was a little
open, and yet in this last moment wbe-i
the next few seconds might give bin
back again the short-lived joy of De
part, a trembling fell on his spiiit.n
gi at fear.
What if with stern accusing eyes she
met him? What if she yielded hot Mm
! Pardon lie had so reienues-.iy wiiniieai
i Would she if she loved him? Sun v
J3ut he could never lone linger in su. -peiue.
If the next moment must d.ish
the cup of joy from his lirs, why. let it
come, nnd he' coiil 1 tneetil.
Ma aofttp (mw-""1 tx fW.r nd en
tered. She was kneeling down by the couch,
her face bent down on her bauds, her
bright hair streaming like a mantlo
about her. every line of the droopinj
figure eloquently speaking of the utttr
d spair and sorrow that made her dad
life a burden; but she heard the step,
the closing of tho door, ami with a civ
bounded to her feet, flintring back tho
trcs-'s from her forehead, looking at
him like some wild, hunted creature.
Impulsively be sprang forward,
strcldiiiig out his bands to her, but
it .-ei'Mi 'd Mmi) to come over him with
an overwhelming force ho the wrong
he bad done her stood bet w en them w t
forbade a neat er approach - mid with,
that sudden revulsion he bent down hi
head low with a deep humility, folding
his arms tightly over his breast, striv
ing to suppress the bitter remorseful
agony that trembled in the half-whispered
"You asked pardon and mercv of mo
once, Erica, with tears and prayers. I
turned from your prayers, I spurned
your anguish "
The sweet voice failed, faltered, stop
ped. He bowed his head yet lower; his
lips could frame no more."
It seemed as though the girl scarcely
understood his words, or that vaguely,
as through a dim dream, thev fell on
her senses. She knew that Philip stood
before her. That was bis voice sneak-
her. What was it he said? "Par-
Was he come to forgive
"Philip!" She put her handsout diz
zily. Iremblingly, and sank down on her
knees before him. "Philip, you will
not leave me. again; vou will have
He bent over her. lifting her to his
breast, wrapping horcloauin his arim.
bowing his forehead down to hers.
"My darling, mv heart's life." he
said, with trembling passion, "rest
here, my owu wife; forgiveness is not.
mine -yours only. - Oh. Erica, Ericul
what atonement shall I make fur the
past? I have no more love to give. I
know all now, my darling. Hush. hush,
child; these tears are my punishment."
Erica was weeping convulsively in
Philip's arms, drawing long racking
solis that seemed torn up from the roots
of her heart. She was conscious that
Philip's clasp held her; that his voice
wns speaking those sweet gentle words;
his lips were pressing her brow with
such passionate caresses. Ah. it wis
but a dream. Such idle, beautiful
dreams she had had, and woke to such
fresh bilterness that she feared sleep
now. Ho tried at first to soothe liar,
but tho loving touch only seemed to in
crease her emotion; and Mien he held
her silently to his heart, wailing, whis
pering at last in bitter pain:
"My heart, these tears ate my re
proach. They tell me all I have mudo
you suffer. Tell me, darting, tell me,
whisper you forgive me."
"Oil, no. no." She tit rove aud In part
succeeded in stemming the tido that
would have its wav till then. "It is I
who have need of forgiveness. Hut it
is not real; only a dream. Philip, Philip,
oh. hold tue dose; don't lot me wake."
She clung to him almost frantically,
and only his tender touch and voice
soothed her back to something like
quiet. She had not comprehended vet
why he had come, or that his so coining
implied a knowledge of the whole past.
She had no distinct thought; nothing
but a sense of being once nioro sur
rounded as with loving protection. She
scarcely knew whether this was reality
And ho watched her with nn almost
trembling anxiety as Mho lifted her
ud her large eyes wandered with
nail-perplexed, half-inquiring look
round the room, then up to his face,
meeting his eyes. How instantly the
"Philip." she raid, softly, and he put
back the hair from her forehead in si
lence, looking into those beautiful eyes,
niccting their pure, tender light with
Hitch bitter regret in bis own,
."Oh. child, child " be said, brokenly,
and turning his face aside, "what can
atone to vou? I cannot meed your eyes
unfalteringly, for the bitter wrong I
have done you."
Erica had remained for a moment, as
ho turned from her, standing there
with quivering lips, and anguish creep
ing again over her features. It was go
ing from her then it was not reality
after all: t ,
Hut as he spoke those sorrowful, self
condemning words, as the mists vanish
under the w'nrm lights of the sun, so
the half-bewildered, dream-like expres
sion gave w ay to one of earnest compre
hension. She put her hand to her fore
head, and her brows were contracted; a
shrinking terror for a moment ntiivered
through every limb; and then, like a-
flash it ail came to tier ner neart,
bounding at once to the bright: joy, and
sinking with dim foreboding at the in
evitable conclusion. There was only
one thing that could have brought
Philip to her side.
She came to him. and her soft, slender
fingers were dinging to his hands,
drawing them down.
"Philip, oh. Philip, my husband!'' she
w hispered, cut t eat ingly, "for me it is
to atone, for me to pny forgiveness. I
did not quite understand before, sorrow
had dulled me; and anil 1 only knew
that you held mo again, that you loved
me. 'Put it has come bade to'nie now
now you know all, Philip, all!" ,
He' lifted his head and drew her '
within tho shelter of bis anu.'i.
"I know all. my child,'1 he said, grave
ly and quiet Iv . his hand clasping hers
closely, ' know all yon have done ind
suffered, and sacrificed. Hush, dear
one, and listen."
For she bent her bead down on his
arm, shivering f;om head to foot, with
a burst of agony that t he tried in vain
"Philip. Philip, though I prayed for
it with tears, your love crushes rue!
Ob. if it had hi en only myself who suf
feredonly my name.' di' honored, but
to you, for whom I should have died to
save from a moment's, anguish, to you
1 have brought such suffering as I can
never, n t r w ipe out. You have dono
me no wrong. Philip; bow mold you
deem me innocent y Put that vow -that
awful vow "
She stopped, her voice ehol-rd for a
moment. Put she mastered herself and
went on in the same way. unheeding
bis quick, staying touch.
"1 have known it was wrong, ques
tioning with my. -elf iu what terrible,
conflict I cannot tell, but that oath
"What vow. v. !; it iMth. my child?''
Philip a-ked. seftly. 'T know all lint
the motive w hidi cieiM !ive forced yon
to do so much for tl i- man."
'it was a vow mad- to the dying."
said the girl, low and qnivciiiiglj.-. "I
swore to my mother on the cross 1 wore
and on the llo'v I'.ibV. that I would
protect and sh.eld Arte!! ti.toiihouL
tiis life. He v c.ik and wild, and
my spuit v.a.i sli-.nger than his. Philip
those words are term d into my biam.
they have been with me waking ami
sleeping: 'To love and protect him
through evil lepen and good i -ih r t . m
lnmu and .lirtionoi . t. Mii'-t. Pirn from
all danger however incurred; todo thiN
not counting the cost to myself or to
others; to sutler loss, shame, misery, in
his place!' I brooded over that trust
till my brain grew pen bid. Yet w as it
wrong to keep that vow, Philip?"
"It was an Iniquitous trust to lav on
a child of sixtee n. Erica." Philip said,
sternly. "Such an oath could never li
binding on you, for ;;s very foundation
was wrong. Xo povwr of earth or
heaven could lay it on v,.u to wrong an
other, or in shielding an a.-sa.s.sin.
Could you th nk u right, mv poor
i uiu not Kt.ow. i tiieiiifi.t I was
bound." she v, hr in i.-d
trusted me, I n ttmw
i.;rn-cil' on my
mercy. Oh, Piubp. it wa.i agony to
know thai my ( : i I was .gainst you,
that my priteeti-n bailed your just
vengeance: it wasajony to live in your
presence, de'-ejyirg lm. I Know 'that
vou ;.aw a diiP i. i e in me after that
lette r came. O. if then I had told yon."'
"Was I so stern, io cold, rov child?"
Philip said, :-?,dy. ' h, Erica, why
did you so fear me?"
Slie lifted her face tol l i. and stretch
eel her lockt d hand , to him.
"Xo. no!" she i a.,peil. and his h"art
smote dim for tl;e reproach. "Philip.
I loved you. it was onlv- only "
"Husii. d'-ar one, I know." be dum
ber air-nii to him in a loving clasp.
"Poigive nic l hat cruel rcpioadi. It
was my faull. I was evi r loo sle.n and
Strict Wheie hotiof VMis t'UU ami
you feared that I -.ho,
your coii-ni. A m I i
"Yes, "she .!;--. r,
falteriiiglv; "I Icand '
I should have P.'d
before you nude .,i
oh. it vn-, Pud. pii
1 part you frotn
d. aud t hen added
on a little, Philip.
hi about Amo'd
;. our w il'e. Did
lip. to say what
in iU in imve p.uicii nn
was wiotig; mv w 1 1 . ! o
lioiu you. It
life b'a:s beet)
wrong, ha., il no! ?"
He turned inlde, covering
w 1 1 1 1 bis hand
"It is a hard thing to be your jiulcro,"
he s'l'd. lii'iir-ely. "Spare me, Erica.
In Ibis litst hour' of icninon, I can only
fed that you ate mine once more."
1 7b be Onfwuod.
Tbey Wouldn't Hop.
A little boy named Eddie Wells, sr
says tin) Louisville Cuiuwrrrin, nnd
with a severe iieuident recently at the
homo of his parents on Piiynti Htre-et
Eddie is about right yean of ao, ami
is considered by his phiynrites ni n very
daring and reeklvs hof. Fnrsotmttim
bo has been at, work upon it patent pait
rd wings which would enable him k
.soar throii';h the air like mi erigle. lb
renamed that if he could make some,
wiiigdiirge enough and light enough,
there, wa;, no reason why lie should not
fly us well as a. bird. Accordingly Ik
made two large wings out of light pa
per, so contrived that tlicy could bt
lastened tightly to tho anus. When
they were completed, he assemblod Ids
companions to witness the success of
his scheme. Ho iiscendod a high shod
that ho might have tt dearer road. H
fastened on his wings and with a etow
and a flap, lenpod oil', full of Miug,iiiue.
hopes that lln) treaeliuroiis uir would
buoy him up. Ik-no sooner releasee;
his looting than ho fell to tho jrrouiul
like a rock, tho wings that vvero to sont
him aloft adding to ids' weight and in
creasing tho heaviness of Ids full. Hi
struck upon tho left leg, breaking it
just below tho knee. This will probably
put tin nd to his wild inventions.
ClnlN and Fever,
siiiii,uu I vr Hikh
iHinr eon PrtMika tiiu
(lulu mill cHirli'i. Hi
fuvi-r out ol tin MVHtt'm.
Il iiurui. wht'U all otlicr
S ck Headache.
K r tU(.' rullcf m d cure
of tills (liFiruMiiu; (ll.
can - U.U Siiiimuu. LI.
Thn Ri;Riilnior wit )ioeltty cum this U.rlble
dUeHBt). Wo hhki'N uniiliiiticully nhat we kuow to
CONST 1 1 'AT ION !
flioitld Dot hu ri'varilt-il nil trltllnu ailment. Na
ture (li'inunda tbu utmost nvulurlty of the Iki.vhIn,
Tbureforu an.' t iiAlure by tukliig Simmon Liver
Ki'KUlator. It Is harniluos, mild and t lluctuul.
Onnortwotiitilioonnil will relli-vu all tlie
troutiloa Incident Io a bilious nans mmti ax Nausea
llizzluuss, ItruwsliiGsa, Plutruee allur t-atiuu, a Plt
ler bad ta.teln the uiuiltli.
MA LA HI A.
I't-rsoni may avoid all aumks by ncrastoiibi.y
takiiin a dore of Simmon Liver Kun'tlUlor to ki t it
the livur In huultliy action.
gi'iiurally arising frru a disordered stomach, can
liocorriMai'dbytitkujK&'iiouoiis Llvur Jtctjii'alor.
Simmons Liver Keuulat rsoon oraikat-s tills dl-
from the a,st. ui, leaving the kiu ckur and
I ree Irom all I uipuflllv.
Children sufl'pfiiiij with colli-. s..n expi-rli-ncu ro.
llcfwln-n Simmons l.lv.-r Kruulator is siliniuiMer-i-tf.
Adults illso (li-ovc (.Tint bcnelil Iron, this
itifdlcin... It is nut unplntcant; It is Imriiiii ss
ami i-lii-ctlvs. Purely v & ta!lu.
U L A 1 ) 1.) K R cV. K 1DNK YS
Meet of lie; Uirea-s ol the Madder oriinati' from
those ol i in. kiiiUC). Ki-plore tbu scilon of trin
liver fully arid both die kidms aud fcla'idr will
JfTske only Ihe gmuux:, which slnsys h on
til'-wrsppi r On- rc.l Z irnd" mark and signs' urr ol
.I.H.ZEIMN .Sc CO..
forsste hy b',! druuk-ii-is.
Mnnufica irui ml Ii,'i:c; iu
h'h Sir c . brtwi-u Cem'l w. ai.il I. v-..-.
CHOKE ISnRIN'l A SPi'.f I.M.TV,
ALL KINDS Or AMI'MTION'.
Safe. P.aed. A ! K:.d- o! K )S M e!--.
-"Ylfor Snl.'ifrs. W'rtuws, Par-
and C'bil'Mii. Ary
if.ie. wi.uiid it- M.wrv
cnt'tn-s. Millior.s Btiro:iriuo-1. Wo. er, u
rioubvd. lio-es rrd'- tiniM). l ri.np;
Aeulv now ttn I'.o I't:i-rt s
nt , d to alt
duis anl dl-ch rj-1 uu i r n- :
c.-ss In lni-r- aa c Hour:lv sn-1 lark y (ro
curv'l. 'I be " orl'l lid so nb r.' tw. e p pnje-ri.
Samt'leeotn frwi s.-urt .'mr i f,-r f ill liisirucaoiis
Mauki arm bounty lab e. I) 'T;"
f..r Po-ia rs A..lr-X 11 1 i j i I k7
N. -W. Kl I ZOHlt Lii I U Pen on, I'atct:' A:
Lana Ati . vvam njion, 11 v. . n s-a
PR. KLISL'3 GHIAT
Bnu2 NhRvE Restorer
X i tui tsuNrsts
I0onrv ikii.kI ,1 tit- NtRTiArrso
nim.Fnt.l rii tur.-i. IM Al 1.ID1.F. II uka
U (lirtrlfl. ,V fttlilflrr rt ij'ty'i VM-. 1 rtltIM 4
1 1.' Irml U-'tli- fr t 1 it Cw,klii,i r.aias ipr.s
jhsrsM en fc,i,hti) rTM. Mod ntin.i' it kqs
Il-r.U ,ld-- Ol tffilCTM io (is kl.lM. -,
United .States MutUdl Acfidt'iit
A'lM'IA I IPS', iu'.l ;pOAl'WA'i . N.V.
I V T" V C f? i.e0 Ai ( (K-ut Insurance.
1 L. 1 1 Ij O U;, WW s ' Imp-multv.
Ml K P I -t'ri!-rsull 1 t. An
tio.ll.lo I ii -ill. out tioiit i i. Writ
(TUlfi V r r ctrr liar ani app lea-
iltll'LiV IO J Hon uiai.k Lurupeau per
mi's. (.'. H. TUE riof llo-crs. Pee' 4Co Piss'rt.
J. Ii. l'lTOlKH, ecr- lir.r.
fnd for a pi . turn of Mrs. Lvvnir; -isUod free.
PENNSYLVANIA Military ACADEMY
f " H EsTKH. '.'lst ycir opena
S' pti mbi-r 1 1 h
vVh Kii if iii-i iin.-rli.r
Appolntnients cempb-ti. Kni'll.h. t'olb'-sin.
1'hstnii.sl, civil Knitinei-rlt'e coiri"'.. iu-i.'rt'i.
!onli-rrd. App'vtoVV. P ITailPlnv. Kj , tin',:. m
C'Rlrci. LI .or loOOL. TIIEo. 11 VAT T. Prert.
POKT (iKAPR WINE
Si'kkk'h Pokt Grape !
POUIt YEA US OLD.
riUHS t'KLKBHATKI) NATIVRWINE Is mad
1 from thnjutco of tliu Oporto IPspc. ralsfil In
this r.oiirPy. Its IiivhIiiiiIi'i' tunic, and stiviiirth
I'tilnir prnpartlcK arc mis'irpassrd bv any other
NhIivh Winn. It 'lnit ihe pnn- Juli e of tl (Jriipc,
produced niiilur Mr. Spi-cr 's own porsonul siipervl
eiou, Us pnrlty and ui'iiu'nincss, ara Ruar.iniood.
Th'tvounust child mnv piirtnk- of Its R-'imrous
qualities, and the wmiko-l Inviilld use It to advun
tK" It Is particularly bcnclli lal to ihu a(od and
d'-bllltslcd, and suited to tho annus nllmunt" that
atTcct thn wenkor so. It tslncvnry ruspoctA
WINE TO UK UKt-IRI) ON.
Tho P. .1. SIIKKH. V Is a w'tw of Supcr'or fbiir
aclerand srt'ikesof thu rich O'Uil tics of tho xriipe
fromwli rti If. Is timdc I'nr Purltv. UIcIimcs, l-1 li
ve and Med Icltml Properties, P will bo loiiml nn
excelled. Sneer's .T. Bninily.
This HltANPY stands nnrlvi'ud In this Country
bflluafur supcririr for medlclim' pu jioses. It Is a
piiriotisnlbitlou Iro th'iKMt'"; nd on atus vs.
iiiiblu miMllcltml propcrUMs. P h is n dulb'sin flti
vor. slm larto thai of Iho irin, from which It U
distlllod, Mid is In uruat. fuvir amonir tlr.t-ctHss
fsmlllcs. Hoe that tho siru .turn of ALl'KKD
HI'KKU, Psalc, N. J., over thn cork or uucb
tScld By PAUL SOUTH T,
AND BY DllUd JlSTS KVIinVVVIlnIRII.
5 Ten v)-e fef iiaisf