Vernon County censor. [volume], February 01, 1911, Image 7

About Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955

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SYNOPSIS.
At a private view of the Chat worth
Personal estate, to ho iold at auction. the
Jrew Idol mysteriously disappears. Harry
Creasy, who was present, describes the
ring to his fiancee, Flora Oilsey, and her
chaperon. Mrs. Clara Britton. as being
like a heathen god, srith a beautiful sap-
Shlre set In the head. Flora meets Mr.
■err, an Englishman. In discussing the
disappearance of the ring, the exploits of
an English thief, Farrell Wand, are re
called. Kerr tells Flora that he has met
Harry somewhere, but cannot place him.
120.000 reward is offered for the return of
the ring. Harry takes Flora to a Chinese
goldsmith's to buy en engagement ring.
An exquisite si jphi'/e set in a hoop of
brass is selectea Harry urges her not to
wear it until it n reset. The possession
of the ring seems *o cast a spell over
Flora. She becomes uneasy and appre
hensive. Flora is startled by the effect
cn Kerr when he gets a glimpse of the
sapphire. The possibility that the stone
la part of the CTw Idol causes Flora
much anxiety. Unseen, Flora discovers
Clara ransacking her dressing room.
Flora refuses to give or sell the stone to
Kerr, and suspects him of being the
thief. She decides to return the ring to
Harry, but he tells her to keep it for a
day or two. Ella Buller tells Flora that
Clara is setting her cap for her father.
Judge Buller. Flora believes Harry sus
pects Kerr and is waiting to make sure
of the reward before unmasking the thief.
Kerr and Clara confess their love for
each other. Clara is followed by a China
man. Harry admits to Flora that he
knew the ring was stolen. He attempts
to take it from her. Flora goes to the
San Mateo place with Mrs. Herrick and
writes Kerr and Clara to come. Ella Bul
ler bribes Clara to leave the Judge alone,
by giving her a picture of Farrell Wand.
Kerr and Harry unexpectedly arrive at
Ban Mateo. Flora buys the picture of
Farrell Wand from Clara for fcO.OOO. She
misses her ring after Harry had said
farewell to bar. Kerr starts in pursuit
of Harry.
CHAPTER XXlV.—Continued,
"Do you feel better?” Mrs. Herrick
asked her. Then she opened her eyes
wide and saw the walls and the high
arched ceiling of the hall directly
above her, knew herself lying on the
floor, saw above her the figure of
Clara, standing with a bottle of salts,
and then remembered; and, with a
moan, buried her face in Mrs. Her
rick’s lap. "Oh, no, no, no; don’t
bring me back; I don’t want to come
back!”
Their voices sounding hign above
her were speaking. Mrs. Herrick said:
"What is that?” Then Clara mur
mured. 1 non there was the 1 ght
rustling of paper. Flora moved her
hand
"Give it to me; I want it.” She felt
the stiff little square of cardboard be
tween her fingers, and closed them
around it fast
Acer a little she went upstairs hold
ing tight to the baluster with one
hand and to Mrs. Herrick with the
ntlnr Alter a little of sitting on the
edge of her bed she lay down, still
bold! g to Mrs. Herrick She felt as
tho sh some cord within her had been
drawn tight, too tight to endure, and
every moment she hoped it would
sunn and set her free.
"You don’t think I'm mad. do you?”
she asked. Her friend earnestly dis
claimed it. "Then things are.” Flora
said, "everything. Oh. oh!” The
memory overwhelmed her. "He took
me there as if by chance! He gave
the sapphire to me for my engage
ment ring. Oh, dreadful! Oh, poor
Harry!"
All that afternoon and all night she
slept fitfully, starting up at intervals,
tumbling with nameless horror-, —the
glittering goldsmith’s shop, tl . China
man, the great eye of the sapphire,
and, worst of ail, Harry's face, always
the same cairn, ruddy, good-natured,
innocent-looking face that had led her
to tb“ goldsmith’s shop, that had
smiled at her, falling under the spell
of the sapphire, that had covered, all
those days, God knew what ravages
of stress and strain, until the man
had finally broken. That face ap
peared and reappeared through the
flashing terrors of her dreams like
the presiding genius of them all. Fin
ally, drifting into complete repose,
ahe slept far into the morning.
She wakened languid and weak. She
lay looking about the room, and, like
a person recovering after a heavy
blow, wondered what had happened.
Then her hand, as with her first
waking thought it had done for the
last week, went to the locket chain
around her neck. Oh, yes, yes; she
had forgotten. The sapphire was
gone. Gone by fraud, gone at a kiss
for ever with Harry—no, with Farrell
Wand.
For Harry was not Harry; and Kerr
was not Farrell Wand. He was In
deed an unknown quantity. Since she
had found Harry she had lost both
Kerr's name and his place in her
fairy-tale. She had seen his very de
meanor change before her eyes. In
deed. her hour had opine without her
knowing it. 'The spell had been
snapped which had made him wear
the semblance of evil. His sinister
form was dissolving; but what was to
be his identity when finally he stood
before her restored and perfect? If
he were not the thief whom sh
struggled so to shield, why, then he
was that very strength of law and
right which, for his sake, she had be
trayed.
She sat up quickened with humilia
tion. The thing was not a tragedy, it
was a grotesque. Blushing more and
more crimson, struggling with strange
mingled crying and laughter, she
slipped out of the bed, and, still in her
night-gown, ran down the hall, and
knocked on Mrs. Herrick’s door, un
til the dismayed lady opened it.
"I thought it was he,” Flora gasped.
"T thought it was he who had taken
the ring! Why didnk he tell me?
Why did he keep it secret? I would
done anything to have saved it for
him. and I let Harry get it! Oh. isn’t
it cruel? Isn'i it pitiful? Isn’t it ri
diculous?”
Mrs Herrick, who. for the last 36
hours, had so departed from her cur
riculum of safety, and courageously
met man> strange appearances, now
was to hear stranger facts. For Flora
had let go completely, and Mrs. Her
rick. without hinting at hysterics, let
her laugh, let her cry, let her teli (
COAST of CHANCE
piece by piece, as she could, the story
of the two men, from night when
Kerr had spoken so strangely at the
club on the virtues of thieves to the
moment when, in the willow walk,
they discovered that the jewel was
gone. Clara's part in the affair, and
the price she had exacted, even in
this unnerved moment. Flora’s in
stinct withheld, to save Mrr. Herrick
the last cruelest touch. But for the
rest—she let Mrs. Herrick have it all
—and under the shadow of the grim
facts the two women clung together,
as if to make sure of their own identi
ties.
“I don’t even know who he is,"
Flora said faintly.
Mrs. Herrick gave her a quick
glance. She had not a moment's hes
itation as to whom the "he" meant.
"You will have to ask him when he
comes.”
“Do you think he will come back?"
Mrs. Herrick had the heart to smile.
“But think of what I have done. I
have lost him the sapphire, and he
loves it —loves it as much as he does
me."
Again the glance. “Did he tell you
that?"
Flora nodded. The other seemed
intently to consider, “lie will come
back,” she declared.
Upheld by her friend's assurance,
Flora found the endurance necessary
to spend the day, an empty, stagnant
day, in moving about a house and
garden where a few hours ago had
passed such a storm of events. She
reviewed them, lived them over again,
but without taking account of them.
Her mind, that had worked so sharply,
was now in abeyance. She lived in
emotion, but with a tantalizing sense
of something unexplained which her
understanding had not the power to
reach out to and grasp. For a day
more she existed under the same roof
with Clara, for Clara stayed on.
At first it seemed to Flora extraord
inary that she dared, but presently it
began to appear how much more ex
traordinary it would have been if
Clara had promptly fled. By waiting
a discreet length of time, as if noth
ing had happened, she put herself in
dubitably on the right side of things.
Indeed, when one thought, had she
ever been legally off it?
That was the very horror. Clara
had simply turned the situation over
and seen its market value, and how
enormously she had made it pay!
Flora herself had paid; and she had
seen the evidence that Harry had
paid, paid for his poor little hour of
escape which a mere murderer might
have granted him in pity. Yet Clara
could walk beside them, meet them at
dinner with the same smooth face,
chat upon the terrace with the unsus
pecting Mrs. Herrick, and even face
Flora in a security which had the ap
pearance of serenity, since she knew
that nothing ever would be told. At
every turn in the day’s business Flora
kept meeting that placid pres
ence; and it was not until the end of
the day that she met it primed for de
parture. Flora was with Mrs. Her
rick. and Clara, coming to seek them
out, had an air of casual farewell. The
small, sweet smile she presented be
hind her misty veil, the delicate
white-gloved hand she offered were
symbols of enduring friendship, as if
she were leaving them only for a few
hours; as if, w-ben Flora returned to
town, she would find Clara waiting
for them in the house. But Flora
knew it was only Clara's wonderful
way. This uprising and departure
were her last.
Now all her waiting was for Kerr’s
returning. She did not know how she
should face him, but she wanted him.
A telegram came an hour before him,
came to Mrs. Herrick announcing him;
and then himself, driven up on the
high seat of the cart. Just as daylight
was closing. She and Mrs. Herrick
had walked half-way out toward the
rose garden; and, seeing them there,
he stopped the cart in the drive, leap
ed down and ran across the grass.
Both hurried to meet him. The
three encountered like friends, like
intimates, with band-clasps and hur
ried glanc.es searching each other’s
faces.
“Did you save it?" Flora asked.
He looked at Mrs. Herrick, hesitat
ing.
“You can tell, she knows,’’ Flora as
sured him.
“No, I haven't saved it—not so far,”
he said. He had taken off his hat and
the strong light showed on his face
lines of fatigue and anxiety. “He
gave me the slip—no trace of him.
No one saw him come into the city;
nothing turned up in the goldsmith’s
shop. His friend, the blue-eyed
Chinaman, has dropped out of sight.
I haven’t made it public,” he glanced
at Flora—“but our men think he's
gone by the water route—Lord knows
in what or where! He must have had
this planned for days.” He didn’t
look at Flora now. He turned his
communication carefully on Mrs. Her
rick. “There were seven vessels
sailed that day, and all were search
ed; but there are ways of smuggling
opium, and why not men?”
They were walking toward the
house. Kerr looked up at the window
where, a short time before, Clara's
face had looked down upon the con
fusion in the garden.
“Is that paid woman still here?"
“Oh, no; she’s gone.” Flora looked
at him warningly. But Mrs. Herrick
had caught his tone. “Why shouldn't
she be?” she demanded with delicate
asperity.
Kerr had dropped his monocle. “Be
cause, in common decency, she
couldn’t. She sold Cressy to me for a
good round sum.”
Flora and Mrs. Herrick exchanged
a look of horror.
“I'd suspected him." said Kerr. “I
knew where I’d seen him but I
couldn’t be sure of his identity till
she showed me the picture."
“What picture?” cried Flora.
“The picture Buller mentioned at
the club that night; Farreil Wand,
boarding the Loch Ettive. Don't you
remember?” He spoke gently, as if
afraid that a hasty phrase in such
connection might do her harm. Now,
when he saw how white she looked,
he steadied her with his am. “We
Across the Top In Thick Black Type Ran the Figures $20,000,
won’t talk of this business any more,"
he said.
“But I must talk of it,” Flora in
sisted tremblingly. “I don’t even
itDow what you are.”
For the first time he showed apolo
getic. He looked from one to the
other with a sort oi’ helpless sim
plicity.
“Why, I’m Chatworth —I’m Crew;
I’m the chap that owns the confound
ed thing!”
To see him stand there, announced
in that name, gave the tragic farce
its last touch. Flora had an instant
of panic when flight seemed the solu
tion. It took all her courage to keep
her there, facing him, watching, as if
from afar off. Mrs. Herrick's acknowl
edgment of the informal introduction.
“I came here, quietly,” he was say
ing. "so as to get at it without mak
ing a row. Only Purdie, good man!
knew —and he's been wondering all
along why I've held so heavy a hand
on him. We’ll have to lunch with
them again, eh?" He turned and
looked at Flora. “And make all
those explanations necessitated by
this lady's wonderful sense of honor.”
It was here, somewhere in the
neighborhood of this sentence of
doubtful meaning, that Mrs. Hetrick
left them. In looking back,
could never recall the exact mon.ent
of the departure. But when she raised
her eyes from the grass where they
had been fixed for what seemed to
her eternity she found only Kerr —
no, Chatworth —standing there, look
ing at her with a grave face.
“Eh?" he said, "and what about
that honor of yours? What shall we
say about it, now that the sapphire’s
gone and no longer In our way?”
She" was breathing quick to keep
from crying. “I told you that day at
the restaurant."
“Yes, yes; you told me why you
kept the sapphire from me, but” —he
hung fire, then fetched it out with an
effort —"why did you take it in the
first place?"
She looked at him in clear astonish
ment. "I didn’t know what It was.”
“You didn't!”
It seemed to Flora the whole situa
tion was turning exactly inlide out.
The light that was breaking upon her
was more than she could bear. "Oh,”
she wailed, “you couldn’t have thought
I meant to take it!”
“Then if you didn’t,” he burst out,
“why, when I told you what it was,
didn’t you give it to me?”
The cruel comic muse, who makes
our serious suffering ridiculous, had
drawn aside the last curtain. Flora
felt the laughter rising in her throat,
the tears in her eyes.
“You guessed who 1 was,” he in
sisted, advancing, "at least what I
represented.”
She hid her face in her hands, and
her voice dropped, tiny, into the still
ness.
“I guessed you were Farreil Wand.”
CHAPTER XXV.
The Last Enchantment.
The tallest eucalyptus top was all
of the garden that was touched with
sun when Flora came out of the house
in the morning. She stood a space
looking at that little cone of bright
ness far above all the other trees,
swaying on the delicate sky. It was
not higher lifted nor brighter burn
ished than her spirit then. Shorn of
her locket chain, her golden pouch,
free of her fears, she poised looking
over the garden. Then with a leap
she went from -the veranda to the
grass and. regardless of dew, skimmed
the lawn for the fountain and the
rose garden.
There she saw him —the one man—
already awaiting her. He stood back
to back with a mossy nymph languish
ing on her pedestal, and Flora hoped
by running softly to steal up behind
him, and make of the helpless marble
lady a buffer between their greetings.
But either she underestimated the
nymph’s bulk, or forgot how invaria
bly direct was the m.n g attack; for
turning and seeing her, without any
circumvention, with one sweep of his
long arm, he included the statue in
his grasp of her. With a laugh of
triumph he drew her out of her con
cealment
To her the splendor of skies and
trees and morning light melted into
that wonderful moment. For the
first time in weary days she had all
to give, nothing to fear or withhold.
She was at peace. She was ready to
stop, to stand here in her life for
always—here in the glowing garden
with him, and their youth. But he
was impatient. He did not want to
loiter in the morning. He was hot
to hurry on out of the present which
was so mysterious, so untried to her,
as if these ecstasies had no mystery
to him but their complete fulfilment.
He filled her with a trembling prem
onition of the undreamed-of things
that were waiting for her in the long
aisle of life.
“Come, speak," he urged, as they
paced around the fountain. "When
am I to take you away?”
She hung back in fear of her vcjy
eagerness to go, to plunge head over
ears into life in a strange country
with a stranger. “Next month,” she
ventured.
“Next month! why not next week?
why not to-morrow?” he declared with
confidence, “Who is to say no? I
am the head of my house and you
have no one but me. To be sure,
there is Mrs. Herrick—excellent wom
an. But she has her own daughters
to look out for, and,” he added slyly,
“much as she thinks of you, I doubt
if she thinks you a good example for
them. As for that other, as for the
paid woman—”
“Oh, hush, hush!" Flora cried, hurt
with a certain hardness in his voice:
“I don’t want to see her. I shall
never go near her! And Harry— ’’
"I Vasn’t going to speak of him,”
said Chatworth, quickly.
“I ,know,” she answered, "but do
you mind my gpeaking of him?” They
had sat down on the broad lip of the
fountain basin. He was looking at
her intently. "It is strange,” she
said, "but in spite of his doing this
terrible thing I can't feel that he him
self is terrible—like Clara.”
“And yet,” he answered in a grave
voice, “I would rather you did.”
She turned a troubled face. "And
have you forgotten what you said
the first night I met you? You said
It doesn’t matter what a man is, even
if he's a thief, as long as he’s a good
one.”
At this he laughed a little grudg
ingly. "Oh, I don't go back on that,
but I was looking through the great
impartial eye of the universe. Where
as a man may be good of his kind,
he's only good in his kind. Tip out
a cat among canaries and see what
happens. My dear girl, we were the
veriest birds in bis paws! And no
tico that it isn't moral law—it's in
stinct We recognize by scent before
we see the shape. You never knew
him. You never could. And you
never trusted him.”
“But,” she interrupted eagerly, ’T
would have dorse anything for you
when I thought you were a thief.”
“Anything?” he caught her up with
laughter. "Oh. yes, anything to haul
me over the dead line on to your side.
That was the very point you made.
That was where you would have
dropped me—if I had stuck by my
kind, as you thought It, and not come
over to yours ”
She saw herself fairly caught. She
heard her menial process stated to
perfection.
"But if you hadn't felt all along I
was your kind, if you hadn't had an
Idea that I was a stray from the orig
inal fold, you would never have want
ed to go In for me” he explained it
Flora had her doubts about the
truth of this. For a time she had
been certain of bis belonging to the
lawless other fold, and at times she
would have gone with him in spite of
it, but this last knowledge she with
held. She withheld it because she
could make out now, that, for all bis
seeming wildness, he had no lawless
instincts in himself. Generations oi
great doing and great mi ring among
men had created him. a creature per
fectly natural and therefore eccen
tric: but the same generations had
handed down from father to son the
law-abiding instinct of the rulers of
the people. He could be careless of
the law. He was strong in it. In
his own mind he and the law were
one. His perception of the relations
of life was so complete that he had
no further use for the written law;
and Farrell Wand’s was so limited
that he had never found the use for it.
Daw less both; but —the two extremes.
They might seem to meet —but be
tween those two extremes, between a
Ohatworth and a Farrell Wand—why.
there was all the world’s experience
between!
She raised her eyes and smiled tit
him in thinking of it. but the smile
faltered and she drew away. They
were about to be disturbed. Beyond
the rose branches far down the drive
she saw a figure moving toward them
at a slow, uncertain pace, looking to
and fro. "See, there's someone
coming."
"Oh, the gardener!" he said as one
would say "Oh, fiddlesticks!"
The gardener had been her first
thought. But now she rose uneaslty,
since she saw it was not he, asking
herself: "Who else, at such an
hour?"
By this time Ohatworth, still seated,
had caught sight of it. “Hello." he
said, “what sort of a thing is that?"
It. was a short, shabby, nondescript
little figure, ahuffitng rapidly along
the winding walk between the rose
bushes. Now they saw the top of his
round black felt hat Now only a
twinkling pair of legs. Now, around
the last clump of bushes he appeared
full length, and, suddenly dropping
his businesslike shuffle, approached
them at languid walk.
Flora grasped Chatworth’s arm in
nervous terror. "Tell him to go,” she
whispered; "make him go away."
The blue-eyed Chinaman was plant
ed before them stolidly, wit! the
ctirious blind look of his guarded eyes
blinking in his withered face. He
wore for the first time the blouse of
his people, and bis lands were folded
in his sleeves.
“Who’s this?" said Chatwortb, ap
pealing to Flora.
At this the Chinaman spoke, “Mr.
Crew," he croaked.
The Englishman, looking from the
Oriental to Flora, still demanded ex
planations with expostulating gesture.
“It is the one who sold us the sap
! phlre," she whispered; and “Oh, what
does he want of you?"
"Eh?" said Chatworth, Interrogating
the goldsmith with his monocle.
“What do you want?"
The little man finished his long,
and, what had seemed his blind, stare;
then dived into his sleeve. He drew
forth a crumpled thing which seemed
to be a pellet and this he proceeded
to unfold. Flora crept cautiously for
ward. loath to come near, but curi
ous, and saw him spread out and hold
up a roughly-torn triangle of news
paper. She gave a cry at sight of It.
Across the top In thick black type
ran the figures $20,000.
Chatworth pointed a stern fore
finger. "What Is it?" he said, though
by his tone he knew.
The Chinaman also pointed at it,
but cautious and apologetic. "Twenty
thousand dollar. You likee twenty
thousand dollar?" He waited a mo
ment. Then, with a glimmer as of re
turning sight, presented tho alterna
tive. "You likee god?—little joss?—
come so?" And with his finger he
traced In the air a curve of such deli
cate accuracy that the Englishman
with an exclamation made a step to
ward h’m But the Chinaman did not
move. "Twenty thousand dollar," he
stated. It sounded an impersonal state
ment, but nevertheless It was quite
evident this time to whom it applied.
The Englishman measured off his
words slowly as if to an incomplete
uuueraUit-'ilriK, which Flora was aware
was all too miraculously quick. “This
little god, this ring—do you know
where it is? Can you take me to it?”
The goldsmith nodded emphatically
at each word, but when ail was said
he only reiterated, “Twenty thousand
dollar.”
Chatworth gave Flora an almost
shamefaced glance, and she saw with
a curious twinge of Jealousy that he
was intensely excited. "Might as
well have a pot-shot at it,” he said;
and sitting down on the edge of the
fountain and taking out his check
book. rested it on his knee and wrote.
Then he rose; he held up the fllled-in
slip before the Chinaman’s eyes.
“Here,” he said, "twenty thousand
dollars.” He held the paper well out
of the little man’s reach. “Now," be
challenged, "tell me where it is?”
Into the goldsmith’s eyes came a
lightning flash of intelligence, such as
Flora remembered to have seen there
when Farrell Wand, leaning on the
dusty counter, bad bidden him go and
bring something pretty. He seemed
to quiver a moment in indecision.
Then he whipped bis hand out of his
sleeve and held it forth palm upward.
' I - " .Hi
Killing Two Birds.
A neatly dressed woman rushed into
a Euclid avenue grocery yesterday
and priced the different sizes of pots
of baked beans that the grocery keeps
put up hot ready to take home and
serve.
"I guess the small size will do,” she
said, hesitating.
“How many do you desire to serve?”
inquired the clerk, ready to advise.
“Oh, I’m not buying them to, serve,”
the customer replied. "Of course I
shall use them, but I’m getting them
to keep my hands warm on the car.
I came away from home without elthe;
muff or mittens."—Cleveland ’’lain
Dealer.
This time it was Chatworth who cried
out. The thing that lay on the gold
smith’s palm Flora had never seen,
though once it had been described to
her —“ a bit of an old gold heathen
god. curie*. around himself, with his
head of two yellow sapphires and a
big blue stone on top.”
There it blazed at her, the Jewel
she had carried in her bosom, that
she had hidden in her pouch of gold,
and that had vanished from it at the
touch of a magic hand, now cunningly
restored to its right place in the fore
head of the Crew idol, crowning him
with living light.
Speechless they looked together at
the magic thing. They had thought it
far at sea; and as if at a wave of a
genii’s wand it was here before them
flashing in the quiet garden.
With an effort Chatworth seemed to
keep himself from seizing on ring
and man together. He looked search
ingly at tho goldsmith and seemed on
the point of asking a question, but,
instead, he slowly held out his hand.
He held it out cup-fashion. It shook
so that Flora saw the Chinaman
steady it to drop In the ring. Then,
folding his check miraculously small,
enveloping it in the ragged piece of
newspaper, the little man turned and
shuffled from them down the gravel
walk.
Chatworth stood staring after him
with his idol in his palm. Then, turn
ing slow eyes to Flora, “How did he
come by this?” he asked, as sternly as
If he demanded it of the mystery it
self.
"He had it, from the very first."
The pieces of the puzzle were flashing
together in Flora's mind. "That first
time Harry left the exhibit ho took
it there.”
"But the blue sapphire?" Chatworth
insisted.
"Harry," Flora whispered, "Harry
gave it up to him."
"Gave it up to him!" Chatworth
echoed In scorn.
But she had had an inspiration of
understanding. “He had to—for
money to get off with. He gave Clara
all he had so that she would let him
get away. Poor thing!” she added in
a lower breath, but Chatworth did not
hear her. He had taken the Idol In
his thumb and finger, and. holding it
up in the broadening light, looked
fixedly at it with the passionate In
credulity with which one might hold
and look at a friend thought dead.
She watched him with her jealous
pang increasing to a greater feeling—
a feeling of being separated from him
by this Jewel which he loved, and
which had grown to seem hateful to
her. which had shown Itself a breeder
of all the greedy passions. She came
softly up to him, and, lifting her
hand, covered tho Idol.
He turned toward her In wonder.
“Ah, you love it too much,” she
whispered.
“That’s unworthy of you," he re
proached her. “I have loved you
more: and that in spite of what I
believed of you, and what this means
to me. To me, thiß ring ts not a
pretty thing seen yesterday. It ts
the symbol of my family. It is the
power and pride of us, which our
women have worn on their hands as
they have worn our honor la their
hearts. It Is part of the life of my
people; and now It has made itself
part of our life, of yours and mine.
Shall I ever forget how starkly you
held it for the sake of my honor,
even aghinst myself? Should I ever
have known you without It?” Ho
put the ring Into her hand, and, smil
ing with his old dare, h- :d It over the
fountain. "Now, if you want to, drop
It in.” lie released her hand and
turned to leave her to her will.
For a moment ate stood with power
in her hands and her eyes on his
averted head. Then with a little
rush she crossed the space between
them. "Here, take it! You love It!
I want you to keep it! but I can't for
get the dreadful things it has made
people do. It makes me afraid.”
In spite of bis smiling he seemed to
her very grave. "You dear, silly
child! The whole storm and troubls
of life comes from things being la
the wrong place. ThlH has been la
the wrong place and made mischief."
"Like me,” she murmured.
“Like you," he agreed. "Now we
shall be as we should be. Give me
your hand.”
He drew off all the rings with
which she had once tried to dim the
sparkle of the sapphire, and, drop
ping them into his pocket like so
much dross, slipped on the Idol that
covered her third finger In a splendid
bar from knuckle to Joint. Holding
her by Just the tip of that finger, lean
ing back a little, he looked into her
eyes, and she, looking back, knew that
it wedded them once for all
Novelty In London Club Life.
The fact that in all existing clubs It
Is against the rule to use the premises
for business purposes has suggested
the formation of anew club to com
bine business with social facilities
The proprietors of the institution, the
premises of which are in Piccadilly,
have called it the London club.
In addition to the ordinary club- j
rooms there will be a “business recep- j
tlon room.” where members can and- [
cuss businest with each other Boards |
will occupy the wall space, on which,
by permission of the secretary, the
details of business propositions io
which members desire co-operat I .*
will be displayed.—London Evening
Standard.
f^OMLCOKISKj
1/ \l WILBUR D NLPBm
A Cliimtie
I?
... - . ~ . .
It Is time to go a-Maylng
When tho frost Is In the air.
When the snowy boughs are swiorln*
And the field.* are white and fair;
It la Joy. Indeed, to wander
Through the bosky dells and gladast
For It makes a man grow fonder
Of the snow through which he w idea
Tts particularly pleasing—
Maying with your fingers freezing.
He.;.- the rohblns* merry chatter.
Hark the songs that they repeat
While they wonder whst’s the matter
As they nurse their frozen feett
Bee tho butterflies leap gaily
As they dance ndown the hreeie
They must exercise thus dally
Or with asthma they will wheeze,
O 'ts Joyous to go Maying
When the world about ts playing.
See the lambkin as It gambols
On the hillside near its dam.
How on frozen aiopea It scramble*—
Cunning, gentle, frigid lamb!
How the honeybees are humming.
Droning music as they go—
Bee. n few of them are coming
Coasting on the flakes of snow!
How tho tender leaves are shaking
As from the boughs they're breaking.
Come, we’!! share our Joys together:
Welcome spring with hearts elate.
Faro forth In the balmy weather—
We can either stroll or skate,
doing Maying thus i Joyous
In our furs and overshoes.
With no sunstrokes to annoy u~
Who nnother mood would choosef
ft Is pleasant to go Maying
When we have such splendid sleighlngv
Made an Impression.
“And you say.” asks tho husband,
“that Mrs. Blithers made the great
est Impression on the audience when
she spoke?"
“Yes,” replies the wife, who has
been attending the convention of tha
combined women’s clubs for tha
amelioration of something or other.
"What did she say?”
"Oh, nobody paid any attention to
that. But she wore a robin’s breast
brown suit with applique of Pom
peian red, and her hat was "
But the husband had buried him
self again In his pßper.
Nautical Note.
“No,” says the eminent tenor. “I
cannot sing that aria tonight. Why.
there are four distinct places where
I have to reach high C.”
“But you usually sing it.”
“Yes, but tonight I am troubled with
a slight asthmatic attack, and yoo
know there cannot be any high C's
without plenty of wind.”
Keally, he only says this to lead op
to his story of how he had been edu
cated abroad, which woultf be com
paratively easy after we have laughed
at his witticism about the high seaa
Too Small.
"Will you have a smile?" askea
Tltewad, leading t; guest to the
sideboard.
“Don’t cate if I do,” answered the
guest.
Tltewad poured out the drink, pre
serving his well known economy of
material.
"Smile?” asked the guest, peering
Into his glass “Say, Tifcewad. this
looks to me like a snicker.”
Describing Him.
“I see." said the guest at the sum
mer hotel, “that Mr. Tellumwhot Is
registered here.”
“Yes,” auswerod the clerk. “He la
the famous reformer.”
"Why, I never heard of his taking
any part in a campaign.”
"O, he doesn't. He never votes, elUv
er. He I • a genuine reformer.”
Immediate Publicity.
"I’d like to get this Information into
all the papers today." says the public
man, "but It is tco late for them."
“Leave It to me,” suggested the
friend 'Til get my wife to telephone
it to one of her acquaintances and
pledge her to secrecy. That’s quicker
than having It printed.”
Duplicates.
"My mamma told me a good fairy
had given you anew baby sister"
“Yes And what do you think? In
ste. 1 of one, we have two. Mora*
fairy must have made us a duplicate
gift.”
"O, what will you exchange it for?"
The One Joke.
"Yes I’ve seen Fut Ute's new comic
opera, and Most If I can see a siogiw
joke In the whole thing.’’ says the first
critic.
“There's only one joke nbout It,” re>
piles the second critic.
“What ts It?"
“He enlt* it a comic opera .”
More Silence.
“Y.'hat do they call those parts of
music where there is a sign of some
kind for the player to s’op for a mo
mont?”
“Rests. Why?”
“Well, you tell that music teacher
of Jennie’s o teach her nothing but
Meres that have about half of them
■nade up of rests.”
H ' /sC-x c ? -6 *