Vilas County news. [volume], January 26, 1910, Image 6

About Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927

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LOVE THE CONQUEROR
- BY ■■■ ■ 111 ——
CHAPTER XIX.
Dark Wood.
Comes this from my love?
Then should the lines be writ
With liquid gold, for my heart
They are more precious.
As soon as dinner had heen re
moved Stephen Hargrave, as was his
custom, disappeared.
Louis did not want him, and never
asked for him, indeed had he done so
he would not have been angry at his
absence, for he had taken a liking
to the grim, silent fellow and was too
easy natured to resent anything he
did in the way of neglect or roughness
of manner.
So Stephen Hargrave crept along
through the darkness, his head bent
upon his breast, his hands thrust into
his pockets and his face grim and set,
revealing nothing of the feeling
which worked like hot lava under the
volcanic crater in his bosom.
Arrived at the Box he gave the us
ual signal, and Sir Richard, who aad
returned two days previously, softly
opened the door for him.
“Well,” he said, as the silent man
passed in and stood with his rough
cap in his hand. "You have something
to tell me?”
Stephen nodded.
‘News,” he said.
“Sit down,” said Sir Richard, point
ing to a chair.
Stephen sat down and fixed his
dark, brooding eyes on the fire.
Sir Richard looked at him with his
keen, hawk-like eyes as if he would
read his soul.
“You have brought something?” he
said.
The man started and looked up half
fearfully.
"How do you know that?” he
growled, beneath his breath. “I have.”
“A letter?” said Sir Richard.
Stephen nodded.
“Give it to me,” said Sir Richard,
holding out his hand.
Stephen gave him the letter, and
with a calm smile he took it from the
envelope and read it.
“Good, very good. Poetry in its
way!” he murmured, with a sneer.
“But it is an answer. Where is her
letter?”
“Could 1 snatch that from his
breast, master?’’ said Stephen. “Not
unless 1 murdered him first, and you
haven't ordered me to do that yet.”
“No, but if I did you would do it?”
said Sir Richard, facing him with a
calm, stern regard.
“Yes, 1 suppose so," said Stephen,
with a long sigh that was almost a
smile.
Be thankful then that I do not bid
you walk to the gallows!’’ said Sir
Richard. “What was -her letter? you
sead it?’’
And in monotonous tones he repeat
ed the contents of Stellas note.
“Good,” said Sir Richard again.
“Now there is work for you to do.
First 1 want you to take a letter from
him, but not this. This goes where all
such trash should go,” and with a
smile he flung it on the fire.
Then he arose and filled a liqueur
glass with brandy and handed it to
his slave.
“Drink it.” he said.
Stephen took the glass and eyed
Sir Richard over it with a look that
said plainly, “Now comes the dark
work for which you saved and re
served me!”
Sir Richard returned to his desk,
and taking a sheet of paper wrote a
short note, pausing twice or thrice,
and at last making a satisfactory
copy, threw the drafts on the fire,
placed the copy in an envelope and
directed it to “Miss Newton, The
Vale.”
“Here is the note,” he said at last.
“Deliver it to her in the place of the
one you received from Louis Felton.
When you have delivered it come and
tell me. That is all for the present.
Afterward there will be some work
for you to do. I depend upon your do
ing it; am I deceived?”
“I’ll do it,” said Stephen, gruffly.
“You are mv master.”
“1 am glad to find you so grateful,”
said Sir Richard. “But for me—as no
doubt you remember —you would be in
prison now, your character gone,
your self-respect forever —branded as
a vagabond and a jail-bird.”
The man’s face paled, his lips
quivered, and he struck his cap with
his fist.
“You’re right,” he said; “you saved
me; 1 can't forget it!”
The next morning Stella saw from
the dressing-room, the windows of
which looked out at the side of th«
nouse on to a small shrubbery, a man ■
sulking in the shadow of the laurels.
She had seen him once or twice be
fore that week, and she recognized
him immediately. Her heart beat fast
and the color crimsoned her beautiful
face.
"He has brought a letter for me,”
she muttered. “I know it, I know it!
Oh, my love, every minute will seem
an hour until it lies upon my heart.
But how am I to get it?”
As if in answer to her mental ques
tion, Stephen made a gesture as if
demanding attention.
She made a movement with her
hand to signify that she saw him,
and then, after looking carefully over
CHARLES GARVICE
the house and around about him,
Stephen tilted up the vase which
stood on a pedestal and placing the
letter under it dropped it into its
place again!
“Careful, faithful Stephen!” she
murmured.
And hurriedly dressing herself she
found an opportunity of getting on to
the lawn.
With greatest care she strolled in
to the shrubbery and secured her
precious letter.
Oh, Louis, if you had seen that vile
forgery, and you could but know it as
such, what would you not have en
dured?
At last she broke the seal, and with
blushing cheeks and beating heart de
voured her first love letter.
It ran thus:
“My Own: No w'ords can tell you
what I have suffered during these
last days. I have scarcely slept or
eaten. Your sweet face haunts me day
and night. I know now by these few
days without sight of you what 1
should suffer if you were to lose me
forever. Stella, my darling, you
were right in your estimate of Sir
Richard’s character. He is base, vile,
treacherous. Something has occurred
to convince me that my happiness is
in danger, and that unless steps are
taken to frustrate the plans I shall be
ruined and our two hearts torn asun
der. Stella, you alone can frustrate
the vile scheme; you alone can save
me! Will you do it? It will need a
sacrifice —many perhaps. I cannot tell
you more now or by these means; bur
if you love me, meet me at nine
o’clock tomorrow night, here in the
garden, at the w’icket gate. As we are
watched closely it would be better
should you see me before to take no
notice. Tomorrow I look for you at
nine o’clock. I know how great a
thing I am asking of you, but I know
that your love will count it little for
your own
Louis.”
CHAPTER XX.
Master and Slave.
Begone, dull care, nor fright my soul
With sickly apprehension.
Begone, or in the flowing bowl
We ll drown thee and dissension.
Stephen Hargrave waited in am
bush until he had ascertained that
Stella had put herself in possession of
the letter, then with downcast face
and solid mien, went about his duties
of the day as silently and grimly as
ever.
Once or twice he glanced with a pe
culiar expression at his young master
who worked at his statue all day with
enthusiastic ardor, as if his life de
pended upon his getting it done by a
certain time, but whenever Louis
spoke to him he answered as curtly
as usual, and Sir Richard’s secret was
safe.
In the evening Louis left.his studio
and sank into his easy-chair in the
d.ning-room, quite tired out; but there
was satisfaction shining through all
the weariness upon his face. “Well,
Stephen,” he said, as the man put the
dinner on, “is there any news?”
There was no occasion to specify
the description required; Stephen
knew as well as his master.
“No,” he answ r ered, gruffly.
Louis sighed.
“Have you not seen her?”
"No.”
“Have you watched?’’
“*I have.”
‘Well,” said Louis, w’ith anothei
wistful sigh, “I knew you would
watch well for me, Stephen, and that
I can trust you! I would give all the
world for a word from her tonight.
You are sure the carriage has not left
the park?”
“Yes, I am,” said Stephen, moodily
“Hadn’t you better eat your dinner?
You've been working like a horse and
the things are getting cold.”
Louis was more tired and disap
pointed than hungry, but he drew up
to the table and toyed with the plain
but w’ell-cooked viands.
Then he took up fais letters —long
blue ones, from the lawyers, an£
sighed over them, and at last, without
a word told Stephen to get his coat
and hat.
“I can’t stop in the hot.se tonight,”
he murmured. “Something seems to
weigh upon my spirits. If I were in
clined to believe in such things or
give way to them, I should say that I
had a strong presentiment of coming
ill. I want to walk, fresh air, and
above all to see your sweet face ,my
beautiful Stella. Well, if I cannot see
thee, the next best thing is to be near
thee.”
Stephen helped him on with his
coat and handed him his hat.
“You’re going out?” he said.
“It looks like it, Stephen,” said
Louis, good-humoredly.
“To wander about the park and
catch your death of cold?”
“That’s as may be,” retorted Louis
a little more coldly. “But you need
not stay at home or wait up for me, if
you w’ant to go to bed."
“I’ll go out if it’s all the same,” said
Stephen.
“Very well,” said Louis, and button
Ing his coat around him he walked
briskly through the hall into the
night, his t*a,ce turned towapA the Vale,
as most assuredly his heart and
thought* were also.
Stephen Hargrave waited until
Louis had had time te get clear of the
immediate neighborhood of the Hut,
then wrapped himself up w’ith some
thing approaching a disguise, and in
his usual roundabout, careful way,
reached the Box.
He gave the usual signal, but there
came no response. Again he whistled,
and without eliciting an answer.
Twice or thrice more the suppressed
owl’s shriek which he had been or
dered to imitate left his lips, then,
impatient to reach the Hut again be
fore Louis, he stole up to the win
dow’ and tapped at it.
Against the blind he could see the
shadow of Sir Richard’s head thrown
in a bent position, as if he were
asleep.
Very quietly and gently he tapped
the window with his finger nails, but
the shadow did not move. Then at
last, fearful of the delay and danger
it engendered, he crept up to the
door, and quietly opened it and en
tered the room.
At a glance he saw that Sir Richard
had fallen asleep over his desk, and
for a few moments he stood with the
door in his hand, watching him.
Then he closed the door, and went
up to his usual chair, seated himselt,
and fell to his staring at the fire
moodily, prepared to wait until his
master should awake.
Suddenly Sir Richard started in
his sleep and muttered some incoher
ent words.
M
Stephen paid not the slightest re
gard, did not appear to have heard
them even, but, with a startling dis
tinctness, Sir Richard still in his
sleep, exclaimed:
“Lucy! Lucy! Give me the boy!”
and threw out one hand with an ex
pression halting midway between re
pulsion and entreaty.
Stephen Hargrave started and
sprang up from his chair, his face
working horribly, his eyes filled with
a horrified and threatening glare up
on Sir Richard’s face.
The noise of his sudden uprising
woke the sleeper.
Sir Richard started, clinched his
two hands, and rising, stared around
him.
So they stood, the two men, con
fronting each other, each looking as it
he had been dreaming some fearful
dream or seeing some agitating vision.
Sir Richard was the first to speak.
“You! How did you get ih?”
At the sound of his voice Stephen
Hargrave’s face resumed its old ex
pression of dogged subjection, and
with a dull sigh he sank into the chair
again.
“Through the door,” he replied. “1
whistled and waited until 1 dared wait
no longer, then stopped at the win
dow. You didn’t hear me, you were
asleep. I came in. You didn’t want
any of the se’vants to find me hang
ing about, did you?”
“Quit right,” said Sir Richard pass
ing his hand over his face, which was
still rather white and haggard. “Quite
right. Well, did you deliver the let
ter?”
“Yes,” said Stephen, “I saw her
take it with her own hand.”
“Good again,” said Sir Richard.
“Now, listen,” and in clear, distinct
tones, which seemed to fix the lesson
upon the listener’s brain as a chisel
cut an inscription on steel, Sir Rich
ard revealed his plot and set forth
the work he intended his brave to
perform.
Stephen Hargrave listened atten
tively until Sir Richard had finished,
then he took his cap and rose.
“Is that all?”
“That is all,” said Sir Richard, with
a cold sm'le “Not a great deal, nor a
very difficult undertaking, but it must
be done well. No over-acting the part
or struggling at the last moment. You
MBPfT
I W■ ■
si. ; >. a.' tT >.♦’ • '• —- . i ;
Perhaps no other exhibitor has
ever shown four harness horses so
closely matched as Kitty Grey, No
rena. Ringing Belles and Chatterbox,
in the stable of C. W. Watson. The
little chestnut hackney mares work
together in tandem and four horse
harnefts, and they make two pairs
that have won championship prizes.
Soon after Kitty Grey and Norena
won the championship at the London
international last June they were
Famous Pair of Light Harness Horses
MUWJTfC j/wj cxArnawax.
me?”
“J <io,” said the man, "and I’ll do it.
Afterward, after this job is done —I
can go my way, I suppose. You will
have no further need of me?”
“That’s as may' be,” said Sir Rich
ard coldly. “If there is more to be
done you will have to do it.”
Then he filled the glass of brandy
as usual. Stephen drank it, and, with
a grim "good night” took his depart-
ure.
Louis meanwhile had reached the
park, and, with the recklessness of
youth, scaled the wood empalings and
trespassed upon the grounds of the
Vale.
It was a beautiful night, the moon
nearly' at the full, and he) could see
the outlines of the house and every
window' and door in it as clearly as
if the sun had shone upon it.
There was a light in the drawing
room, and toward this Louis was
drawn, as a moth is fascinatied by a
candle.
He fancied that he could distinguish
his darling’s, shadow' upon the blinds,
and he w'atched motionless in the
cold, waiting to catch the sound of
her voice.
At last his patience was rewarded —
more fully and sweetly than he could
have expected.
The shadow' disappeared from the
window, and a minute or so after
ward he heard some chords struck up
on the piano.
He drew near the window, his heart
beating wildly', his cheek flushed, with
expectant delight, which nearly burst
forth in passionate words of love, as
Stella’s sweet, clear voice commenced
singing.
It was a mournful, sadly bewitching
air, and the words—every one of
which Louis could hear —harmonizing
in their wistful lamentation with the
music.
Low sets the sun across the sands,
The heavy clouds are red with haze
The sunlight reddens both your hands
And casts a glow’ upon your face.
In coming years this night, my love,
Will stand out clearly from the past
Its memory, bitter sweet, shall prove
Our love found voice to speak at
last.
A year ago we met —no more!
The twelve months seem so long,
so short!
What worth was life to me before
The glamor of your eyes I caught?
And now! ah, well, the tide comes in;
Tomorrow again the tide goes out;
And love, like pleasure, pain and sin,
Must takes its turn and turn about.
No, keep the flowers, one and all!
Such helps to memory need I not.
Love’s pride must surely have its fall,
And futile hoping be forgot.
Stella's voice quivered on the last
line and prolonged it until the full
sense of it set Louis’ heart aching.
“A mournful song,” he murmured.
“But, thank heaven, your sadness
shall be confined to love ditties if fate
will permit me to watch over your
future. ‘Futile hoping be forgot!'
Heaven forbid that your hoping, my
darling, should be futile! Nay, the
course of true love may not run
smoothly, but so that it finds its way
to the river of happiness at last, W’ho
of us dare complain of the rocks and
weeds in our way? Oh, my darling,
what would I give to stand beside you
now' and dispel the silence of your
sadness with some more cheerful
strain? Strange—there must be sym
pathy between us —I, with my presen
timent of coming ill, heavy upon my
soul, and Stella pouring out her
heart’s sadness in a mournful song.
Bah! Ido not deserve my happiness
by hunting up trouble in this way; let
me wait until it comes, and W’hen it
does let me meet it like a man and
overcome it.”
Then, with a fervent good night,
_ l Long Branch in competition
with Ringing Bells and Chatterbox
and were beaten by the latter pair.
When it came to the champion class
Ringing Bells and Chatterbox won
from Lord Baltimore and My Mary
land 11. the pair that defeated Kitty
Grey and Norena for the champion
ship of the national horse show last
season. At the recent international
horse show, in Chicago, Kitty Grey
and Norena again came to the front,
winning in the classes for small pairs
which Stella alas, could not hear, he
went away moodily, scaled the park
railings and returned to the Hut.
It was fearfully cold, the lights —
save those in his own room —were ex
tinguished, the whole place w r as in
tensely silent.
He went to bed, but not to sleep,
the presentiment took larger form in
the darkness and haunted him like a
ghost, and whenever he woke, with a
start, some voice from w’ithin him
w'hich seemed rather to come out of
the darkness around him —wailed in
harmony' with the w'ind:
“Love’s pride must surely have its
fall,
And futile hoping be forgot.”
The first love letter generally
brings sweet delight. Stella’s first
love letter, joyfully as she had wel
comed it, brought her an indescrib
able pain. There was a void in her
heart before. She had received it, and
it made the void seem greater, instead
of filling it as it should have done.
There was something almost unsatis
fying; although its professions of de
votion were passionate and frequent
enough, they seemed hollow and arti
ficial. Louis did not talk .so, it was ut
terly unlike him, and it fretted her
to find his first letter so unlike what
she expected it would be. Then again
it spoke of danger, of a palpable dread
of some scheme of Sir Richard’s and
contained that request which would
entail danger to her fair fame and
name if she granted it. Meet him at
night in the dark!
Her cheek paled and her heart
sank at the idea.
In the first place how could she
leave the house undetected? In the
next place, some of the servants or
villagers might see her and recognize
her well-known figure, disguise ana
muffle as she might, while she was
on her way; and, lastly how could sne
hope to re-enter the house unnoticed?
But love laughs at locksmiths, ana
Stella, once more kissing the letter,
hid it in her bosom and determined to
obey her lover’s wish, cost her what
it might. And from the moment she
had so determined a presentiment,
near akin to that w'hich had fallen up
on Louis, settled upon her, and sleep
ing or w'aking she dreamed of nothing
but ill.
Until the influence of that threaten
ing mood she had sung the song Louis
had heard and sighed at; under the
same heaviness she waited feverishly'
for the hour which the letter had ap
pointed.
It came, and chance, w’hich brings
about so much good and evil, upon
w’hose touch weak minds tremble,
stood her friend —or enemy.
Mrs. Newton, complaining of a bad
headache, which she had brought on
by' worrying herself over the stew
ard's books in a fit of parsimony, re
tired to her room, thinking Stella was
safe for the night, and determinea
that she would take her to town on
the morrow
Stella stole up to her room ana
slipped into furs. Very beautiful was
the picture which the mirror present
ed to her gaze when she stood before
it, till with inflexible prudence she
threw a large waterpTfiof over the
whole, drew the hood over her head
and —still pretty, despite the inartis
tic wrap—-quietly stole downstairs
again, taking the key in her pocket.
She was compelled to wait behind a
statue of sleeping satyr upon the
stairs until a footman, who was re
moving the last service of the din
ner from the hall, liaU finished his
task, and even then narrowly escap
ing detection, for the man came back
for a forgotten epergue just as tne
door closed behind her.
To be continued.
The average man is always paid av
erage wages.
•nd defeating, among others, William
H. Moore’s Amyrillis and Phyllis, wln
lers of the championship prize toj
uairs at the national horse show of
’909.
Ringing Bells is an imported mare,
formerly called Lady Ophir, by Polo
nius, out of Mayflower, by Lord Derby
11. Chatterbox wras bred by E. D.
Jordan of Boston, and is by Lord Der
by 11 (son of Lord Derbj’ II), out or
Reginald W. Rives’ old time show
mare Gossip, by Fashion.
WASTE OF FUEL
BHOMOTIIIES
NEW MEANS OF ECONOMY BEING
CLOSELY WATCHED BY
RAILROADS.
TRIFLING WAYS IN WHICH VAST
QUANTITIES OF ENERGY
ARE LOST.
The man who buys his railroad
ticket in the station, w'aits an hour or
so during this remarkable era of de
lays, then steps on the warm and
comfortable car and reads in his
newspaper about the immense amount
of coal consumed by the railroads
every year, has a very slight idea of
the manner in which the fuel is used
and the many ways in which it is
■wasted by the railroads before they
are able to place it in a position to
bring them motive power.
The utilization of fuel in a locomo
tive is one of the greatest questions
before the railroads of today and it
is attracting more investigation and
new fuel saving devices than any
other department of a great railway
system. To find some way in which
the elasticity of the steam can be
used, to prevent and postpone con
densation as long as possible, to get
every pound of steam out of the coal
used is the ambition of the motive
pow’er official today.
There are many ways in w’hich a
locomotive wastes its fuel. In fact
there are so many ways that the
waste is about as prominent a feat
ure as the strength. ' Every railroad
is constantly making tests to deter
mine the main source of the waste
and some of the computations are in
teresting to the novice who only
knows the the time card.
Very few people stop to think
that every time a locomotive whistles
it is wasting power, that every ex
haust from the smokestack is pouring
out millions of heated cinders and
sparks, that the little leaks always
apparent over The modern engine con
tribute to the mammoth losses, that
the starting of fires, the moving of
the locomotive to the train, the back
ing of trains in or out of a station or
siding, the popping off of the safety
valve, the heating of the boiler while
the engine is standing still, the in
complete combustion of gases, the
heat and gases going out through the
stack, the stopping of trains at cross
ings—that all these things cost the
railroads a fortune.
The simple question of stopping at
railroad crossings and whistling before
going ahead means a mint of money
and a mine of coal a year. This is
one reason that so many railroads
over the country are installing inter
locking stations at their railroad
crossings.
The loss of heat by the losing of
hot cinders both through the stack
and down through the grates is a
question that will occupy the minds
of many inventive geniuses before
many years. It is estimated that over
eight million tons of coal can be
wasted by a locomotive through this
source. This is also a matter that
will make the railroads pay more at
tention to the daily work of the fire
man. The skill in managing the fire
in the firebox means about as much
to the railroad along fuel lines as
any other argument.
Some locomotive firemen are able
to take a certain amount of coal at a
coaling station and make it do the
work and save the road a ton of coa:
on the run. The next fireman will
shovel a ton more than his predeces
sor and still he will not be able to
give his engineer the steam. The dis
tributing of coal over the fire, the ex
pert use of the shovel and the man
agement of the fire is a most im
portant item in the steaming of an
engine. Of course, the skill of an
engineer in the use of his steam con
tributes heavily.
The greatest loss is always given to
the firing up, switching, and the
leakage losses of a locomotive. This
series is followed by the loss of
heated gases discharged through the
stack. Then the loss of cinders and
sparks through the smokestack. These
are followed in order by loss through
radiation, leakage of steam and
water; required to evaporate mois
ture contained by the coal; loss
through the unconsumed coal fuel in
the ash; and the loss through in
complete combustion of gases.
It is with intense interest that the
railroad officials over the country are
watching the tests made by the new’
compound locomotives, also the smoke
box superheater and other like appli
ances for the more economical use of
fuel.
Hoppe Issues Desi.
New York, Jan. 16.—Willie Hoppe
has challenged George Sutton for trie
18.1 balk line billiard championship.
The match is to consist of 1,500
points, played in blocks of 500, prob
ably at Chicago.
They’ve found a way to manufac
ture valuable chemicals out of sage
brush. Now Joaquin Miller and Gov
ernor Hughes can pull some divi
dends out of their ■whiskers.