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Thorns and Orange Blossoms.
BY THE AUTHOR OF ROMANCE OF A YOUNG GIRL. CHAPTER Lll. Dr. Weald saw the housekeeper. He assured her that there was nothing to fear; the young lady wanted rest and nourishment. He would return in the evening and see how she was. Ho gent a message to Mrs. Ingram 10 say that there was no need for anxiety; but he went home with a grave face and a sad heart. Who was she, this beautiful, winsome, helpless girl? How had she drifted into the old-fashioned mansion of Queen’s Kim? She was not related to the Ingram family. He knew every mem her of it: he had attended them for many years. He could not under stand why she had said that she must not speak in that house above all others. She was no relative, no friend, simply the companion whom every one knew Mrs. Ingram had en gaged to amuse and attend her. There was a mystery. He could not make it out. Only one thing was plain to him, and that was that she must be persuaded to go back to her husband. He thought to himself, with an indulgent smile, that she was most probably a spoilt child who ran away from home in some sudden pique, and was hiding under the dis guise of a lady’s companion. He had como across one or two romances in the course of his professional career: this was another, with certainly the fairest heroine n:an ever dreamed of. The good doctor promised himself that he would go back to her that evening, that he would persuade her to trust him, to tell him her story, to let him act for her. He was deeply interested in her, as is the nature of man to be deeply interested in a beautiful woman; he would not rest until he saw her happy and reconciled to her husband. He felt grieved for her, there in her loneliness, with no friend or companion, no one in whom to trust or confide. "But I will make it all right this evening," he said to himself. While Violet, left to herself, went almost mad from excess of emotion, the doctor had left a sleeping draught, which he said was to be given to her at once: but all the sedatives ever thought or dreamed of would not have brought rest to her. Was is joy or despair Was it pleasure or pain? Was it wonder? Was it regret? She sprang from the bod. The faintness and the languor had disappeared under the sitmulus of what she had heard; a burning fever seemed to course through her veins; yet her face was white and her hands worn oaM no \ her eyes v/crc aflame, her lips were quivering. She knelt first with a frantic cry to Heaven; then she rose with a wail of pain, and paced the room. "What shall I do? What must I do? was the burden of her cry. I hen a feverish longing to go away seized her. "I cannot stay here,” she said; “I must go away.” Then a fresh longing came to her, it was to lie down on the pretty white bed and never open her eyes again. For the news the doctor had told her was startling enough. In a fe-.v months she would be the mother of a little child, and she did not know whether to rejoice or to grieve. If she had been living at peace and in Union with her husband, her happiness would h ive been without hounds or limits: hu* she had left him, and had annulled h.-r own marriage. If it should please Heaven to bless her with a little son, he would be Baron Ry vers of Ryversdale. How could she persist in hating the arlstoeracy when, if Heaven did send her a son, he would be an aristocrat? What would Randolph say? She remembered liis great love for chil : and how often ho had said to lift that his one fervent prayer was that Heaven would bless him with a son. Once, as they were standing on the bridge at Saltzburg, watching the hist nowing river, he had said to her unite suddenly: \i°let, if ever Heaven blesses ns with a son, I shall eall him Byuo,” in tetnenibrattee of the dear old woo ls " her> I first met you.” S * K> had laugh 1 carelessly at the time Now the words came back to he" tut': pierced her heart. If Randolph knew—he who had al "ays : en so kind to her —hove devotedly ho would tend her? Rut he did not know, and moat probably **a with Miss Marr. No; that must nin r now. Suddenly Randolph Neeined to have grown doubly dear vn Ixt Then the difficulty of her posl dawned upon her. What was she ,0 do" Of all houses in the world, her secret must never be known her?. •She must go at once. Gradually all other thoughts and ideas resolved themselves into the dcjlslon that she must leave Queen's Elm. When the doctor returned that evening, she Jnmst not be there: she must go at otme, and leave no tract, no address behind her. To her bewildered mind t> is °m thing was dear. She dressed r-flf and rang for the housekeeper. o you want to kill yourself. Miss out on. asked the astonished woman. * Rolng out fl?ter such an illness?” No; but I must go. I am not out niere| y for a stroll. I am t" mg Queen's Elm never to return.” “It is madness,’’ said the house keeper, “and most probably will terminate in death.” “I cannot help it,” cried Violet. "Do not oppose me. I have made up my mind to go, anrl nothing will in duce me to stay.” “Well, I enter my protest,” said the housekeeper. “Two hours since we all thought you were dying; now you are going out. Why, you have hardly strength to walk. Miss Beaton!” “I shall be better soon. I cannot stay here. I am going to see Mrs. Ingram. See that the carriage Is ready. I must he at the station by four.” Violet had decided on going to London, not knowing where else to go Mrs. Ingram looked much aston ished when Violet stood before her. “Do not be alarmed,” she said. “I wish I had more time that I might speak more fully to you.” Mrs. Ingram roused herself and looked Into the lovely colorless face. "I hope I shall not startle you, ’ pursued Violet; and there was a ring of Impatience in her voice. “I am sorry to tell ou that I am obliged to leave Queen’s Elm today. I am afraid it will be a great Inconvenience but I am compelled to go.” “It is very sudden, very unexpected, my dear," said the stately, gentle old lady, “but of course, If you cannot help It ” ”1 cannot. I cannot!’’ cried Violet. “I am In great trouble—l must go!” “1 have known It ever since you went with me to my husband’s grave,’ said Mrs. Ingram, quietly. "Only tell me how. and I will do all I can to help you.” “You are very good,” returned Violet: “but you could not do anything for me. lam sorry to leave you: you have been very kind to me.” “Go then, my dear. Do not be anxious about me. I shall find some one to take your place. I am sorry you are going, you are a great favorite of mine, and I shall miss you very much; but if it is urgent that yon should go, I will make no effort to de tain you. When are you going?” “I want to catch the four o’clock express to London,” replied Violet. “Then you have but little time to spare,” said Mrs. Ingram. “You must have something to eat before you start. Shall you come back to me?” Violet fell upon her knees by the old lady’s side, and took the thin, withered hand In hers. "I am sorry to seem ungrateful and unkind,” she said. “No; I shall never come back. T am in great trouble, and I do not see the end of it. I grieve to leave you in this fashion, but I cannot help it.” "I always thought from your face that you had a story,” remarked the old lady. “I knew it when you were with me at my husband’s grave.” Before they parted, Mrs. Ingram made Vioht promise that she would not forget her, that she would come back to see her at some time or other. “I have had many companions,” she said, “since my daughter, my bonny Jean, died, hut none that I have liked so well as you.” An hour afterward Violet found her self in the express, speeding as fast as steam could take h°r to T endon. She had not thought yet what she should do when she reached there: her only Idea had been to hasten away from Queen’s Elm. As the train sped rapidly onward through the fast falling shades of evening, her mind grew calmer, and once more she was able to think. Mrs. Carstone was the best friend she had in the world. She had thought once of appealing to her aunt in her distress; but she knew thaT that good lady would say things of her husband that she herself could not and would not tolerate. She liked Miss Marr; but in this case it was Impossible to make her her confidante. So she made up her mind that she would send for Mrs. Carstone, and tell her a'l, and hear what her advice was. She would abide by it, let it be what it might. \. hen she reached London, sh took a cnb to the Great Northern Hotel, and from there she telegraphed to Mrs. Carstone, asking her if she would come to see her there at once. The answer to her telegram soou arrived, telling her that Mrs. Carstone would be with her In the morning. After that Violet slept well, her mind being at rest. Mrs. Carstone was not a particularly clever woman: but she had a good judgment and a klndlv heart. Some way out of the difficulty would present itself to her. CHAPTER Ull. Mrs. Carstone wept tears of genuine delight at the unexpected news. ”lt is a gift from Heaven.” she cried, "sent to reconcile you and your husband—a gift from Heaven direct, my dear; and I am thankful for your sake. And now what have you thought of doing?” "I thought of laying all my cares and troubles on your shoulders for a time,” answered Violet "Whatever advice you give me, 1 will follow It.” "I should say. seek a reconciliation first with your husband ” said Mrs. Carstone. “That was the course I advised even before I knew of this. You can do nothing better. I have a few days to spare; I will stay with you. Write to your husband. Do not tell him your news—tnai will be an agreeable surprise to him —but tell !.im you are tired of wrong-doing, and sk him to be fi lends. I should use ist that simple expression, ‘Be friends.’ ” “I can not call it ‘wrong-doing,’ ” emarked Violet, “because I really hought I was doing right.” “We will not argue over a word,” said Mrs. Carstone. “Tell him that ou are tired of being away from him, want to be friends—that is the .ii - Cling to be done—and I will stav ■w until the answer comes." “! do nut know where he Is,” she aid “I heard that he was living omewhere in London." She remembered that Miss Marr >ad told her that ho was living alone, ejected and miserable, in London; but she had told her also of her in tention to draw him, if possible, to Athelstone. Athelstone was the Dowager Lady Ryver’s own house, whither she had gone after her quar rel with her son. He might be in Lon don, or he might have gone to Athel stone. Send your letter to Ryversdale, and no matter where Lord Ryvers ha? gone, it will be safely forwarded to him,” Mrs. Carstone advised. “If I do it at all,” said Violet, “I must do it at once, while there is a rush of feeling in my heart which pre vents me from thinking clearly or remembering bitterly. I must forget much before I can write that letter, and in this coufusion I have forgotten much.” “So much the better,” remarked Mrs. Carstone, briskly. “This is the very time.” She rang quickly, and ordered writing material to be brought into the room. She would not delay, lest Violet should change her mind. The beautiful face of the young wife had grown very pale, and Mrs. Carstone saw how her hands trembled. “Write, now,” she said, as she placed the pen in Violet’s hand. And she wrote the simple words: “I am tired of being away from you, Randolph. Will you be friends? I am remaining at the Great Northern Hotel until I receive your answer." As she sealed and stamped it, a great burning blush covered her face. So this was the end of her grand resolutions, her high spirit, her re bellion, her “eternal farewell?” She winced as she thought of it. Mrs. Carstone read her feelings. Remember,” she said, “it is for y.|ur child’s sake. You may, if you have a very elastic conscience, order your own life as you will; but you cannot blight the life of your child. Give me the letter, and let it be posted at once.” Again she rang. She placed the letter in the servant’s hands, saying: "Let this be sent at once to the post, and see that a trustworthy messenger cakes It, as It is of great importance.” Violet wondered in her own mind whether Miss Marr would be with Randolph when ho received It, looking at him with those dark, loving of hers? Would his handsome, eager face flush with pleasure or grow pale with anger as he read? She could not say. She knew that he had loved her with all his heart; but she was un certain as to whether or how far her anger and her caprice had interfered with that love. "I am glad I had not much time to thing about it,” she said, with a deep sigh. “I am quite sure if I had been able to remember all the reasons that induced me to leave him, I could not have written it” While good Mrs. Carstone sat sip ping her favorite after-dinner wine, ♦he beautiful young wife lay with a dreamy smile on her lips. She need ne r er be jealous of Miss Marr again. She was happier than she had been since the discovery she had made of her husband’s title and wealth. It would not be so bad, after all, to be called “young Lady Ryvers,” the mother of the future heir of Ryvers dale; It would not be so bad to enjoy money and rank; it would all be sweetened with love, “love will waken by and by.” Ix>vo had awakened with a passion ate rush. “Oh, my husband,” cried the gi '. who had once thought love a trouble, and had talked of annulling her own marriage, “if I could see you now, if I could tell you how full of love my heart Is for you!” To be continued. Wellington's personal tastes and habits, like those of most great men, were very simple, says Goldwin Smith in the Atlantic. Ila cared not far show or pomp of any kind. Instead of building a counterpart to Blenheim, for which money had been voted, he bought and improved Strathfleldsaye, a common country gentleman’s house. In his diet he was very abstemious, even to the injury, it appears, of his health. He of course kept a first rate French cook for his guests. The cook. It was said, one day suddenly resigned. The duke, In astonishment, asked the reason. "Was his salary insufficient?” "No, my salary is very handsome. But lam not appreciated. 1 cook your dinner myself, a dinner tit fot a king. You say nothing. Igo out and leave the under-cook to cook jour dinner. He gives you a dinner tit for a pig. You say nothing. I a;n not appreciates!. I must go.” An orchestra has been formed on the Apache reservation, the Indians being expert in making harmonj - from one-string violins. A philosopher remarks that many tombstones don't lie about what's be low because they are above it. WORK OF A STORM North Wisconsin Farm ers Suffer From Wind and Rain Tluch Damage to Property in City of La Crosse Hinneapolis Visited by a Tornado--Two Lives Lost La Crosse, Wls., jine 29.—A torna do, doing thousands of dollars damage passed over this city at 7 o’clock last evening. The storm came from the west and was accompanied by a fierce wind, heavy rain and lightning. The roof of the Hotel Boycott, a four-story structure, was blown ofT, landing on another large building half a block away, wrecking the roof. The new Norwegian Lutheran hospital was also wrecked. Trees were uprooted and plate glass destroyed. Several build ings were struck by lightning. Mud Storm at New Richmond. New Richmond, Wis., June 29.—A veritable mud storm passed over this section late yesterday afternoon. The storm came from the west in a threat ening fashion but went north and south of the city doing great damage to growing crops, trees and outbuild ings. There was a tremendous down pour of rain and hail. The wind seemed to carry mud which plastered everything. Numerous reports have been received of the loss of livestock. Much Damage at Superior. West Superior, Wis., June 29.—The storm yesterday afternoon assumed nearly the proportions of a cloudburst. Great damage was done. Chippewa Falls Girl Killed. Chippewa Falls, Wis., June 29. — Bernice Violette, aged 18, was killed by lightning at her home last night. Farmers Suffer Severe Losses. St. Paul, June 29. —Heavy storms with more or less damage were re ported all over this section yesterday dfteiuuuu auu iiie iuss win run wen up into the thousands, while a number of persons have been injured and many heads of live stock killed. The worst storm was that which passed through a large district south of New Richmond, Wis. It was a genuine tor nado and did much damage to farm property, although, fortunately, no lives were lost. On a smaller scale it resembled the tornado which swept over and destroyed the greater part of New Richmond two years ago. Over a dozen farmers have already reported the loss of part or all of their build ings, windmills, livestock, machinery, etc., and the loss there will be very heavy. In some cases buildings were crushed down and in others swept away by the wind, while the flood damage elsewhere Is reported. Rain fall of nearly four inches was reported there. A tornado also is reported to have caused much loss about Star Prairie, some distance to the north of New Richmond. Hector, Minn., reports that all crops were destroyed six miles north of there by a destructive hailstorm. People Blown Away. Montevideo, Minn., June 29. —A small tornado swept down on the farm of G. Jung. 12 miles north of here yesterday afternoon, so badly In juring the hired man that his recovery is doubtful. Jung, his wife and two children were carried 20 rods, but es caped with slight Injuries. The house and outbuildings were destroyed. Lightning Strikes Street Car. Ann Arbor, June 29.—A furious elec trical storm with wind, rain and hail accompanying, passed over the city late yesterday afternoon doing much damage. Several houses were struck NEGRO GLEANS OUT WOULD-BE LYNCHERS Panther. W. Va.. Juno 2J.—Cornered by a determined band of citisens bent on meting out summary justice. Peter Price, a negro charge ! with insulting a lady, in a desperate effort to escape, cut and killed George Hooks. F. M. Morgan and seriously cut Chas. Davis. The murder oc curred at Lager, a small town five miles south of here. Price took refuge In a small room in the rear of a saloon. The mob bat tered down the door and as they en- by lightning. The court house was damaged, and the roof blown from the gas company’s building. Lightning also struck a crowded street car caus ing a panic among the passengers. One lady had part of her garments badly burned, but none were seriously injured. Two Killed in Minneapolis. Minneapolis, June 29.—With all the accompanying phenomena of a torna do, except the funnel shaped cloud, a heavy electrical and rain storm swept over this city at 4 o’clock yesterday afternoon resulting in the death of one person and the serious injury of two others, besides doing immense dam age to property in the twin cities. The person killed was: Holley Bennett, killed by live wire. The injured were: Dell Eck, shocked by a live wire. Mrs. Morey, leg broken and shoulder dislocated. The Home laundry where Mrs. Morey was injured, was totally wrecked. The storm leveled part of the canvas enclosure of the Wild West show aud several people were severe ly injured. Hundreds of window lights were broken throughout the business district. A grain elevator, in the course of construction in southeast Minneapolis, was tilted from the foun dation, and collapsed like a shell. The workmen barely escaped. In St. Paul shade trees suffered greatly, many chimneys being blown down and a number of small buildings partially wrecked. Telephone and other electric wires were badly de moralized. Half a dozen people were reported injured, but none seriously. Lightning Strikes Picnickers. Pittsburg, June 29. —During a short but vicious storm yesterday lightning struck a large oak tree in Riverview park under which Mrs. W. H. Young and her four children were eating a picnic lunch. George Young, aged six, was instantly killed. The younger brother was rendered unconscious, and probably will die. BOYLE PRESIDENT. Municipal Reformers Make Viroqua Man Their Chief. Viroqua, Wis., June 29—The mayors of Wisconsin cities who have been holding their annual meeting elected the following officers: President, L. C. Boyle, Viroqua; vice president, Storm Bull, Madison; secretary, and treasurer, S. E. Sparling, Madison; ex ecutive committee, W. A. Wyse, Reeds burg; Burt Williams, Ashland, j. Caras, Hudson. The following district vice presi dents were chosen: First, M. J. Hig gins, Racine; second, J. E. Jones, Por tage, third, E. E. Parfley, Richland Center; fourth, E. B. Hoyt. Wauwa tosa; fifth, R. R. Gove, Waukesha; sixth, F. B. Haskings, Fond du Lac; seventh, James Boshard, Boscobel; eighth, S. J. Murphy, Green Bay; ninth, Louis Marchett, Wausau; tenth, F. A. Parker, Superior. Next year's location was left to the committee. ANOTHER CARNIVAL IS SURE TROUBLE Milwaukee, June 29. —That the Ho tel Men’s association is determined to prevent the establishment of a restau rant on Second street for visitors to the Elks’ carnival, in accordance with a privilege granted by the common council, was shown yesterday when Mayor Rose received a letter from the law firm of Austin, Fehr & Gehrz, say ing that legal proceedings would he instituted against the executive com mittee of the Elks if the project were carried out. NARROW ESCAPE. Three Young Men Cling to Upturned Boat Till Nearly Exhausted. Marinette, Wis., June 29.—While retrning from Fish Creek Capt. Kreel of the Ingersoll sighted a shipwreck. He ran alongside and found three young men hanging to the bottom of a capsized boat. They had been in this perilous position for two hours and were almost exhausted. The young men were Messrs. Gunderson, Bepper and McNillis. Bank Clearings Inrease. New York, June 29. —The statement compiled by Bradstreets shows the to tal bank clearings in the principal cities of the United States for the week were *2,180,242.544. an increase 49.1 per cent compared with the cor responding week last year. tered the room Price threw himself at them with the ferocity of a tiger, a knife in each hand. Hooks and Mor gan fell to the floor and two revolvers in the crowd were discharged at Price inflicting.but slight wounds. With a desperate swing of his knife, Price laid open Davis’ abdomen and then leaped from the window. He was pursued and captured by officers who hurriedly sent him to jail at Welch to avoid a lynching. Hooks and Morgan were well known citizens and Indignation runs high. THE COCKTAIL BUG. A Weird Performance by an Insect That Disappeared at Will. “It wouldn't have happened if it hadn’t been for the freshness and fri volity of the bartender,” said a young cotton man who has a well-earned reputation as a practical joker. “One morning, two or three weeks ago, I dropped into the place where he works and ordered a cocktail. He made it and, as I was about to pick it up from the counter, I chanced to look into the glass and was horrified to see a huge, hideous bug of & species uu* known to me. It had a purple head, yellow body and gray legs, and a less active monster I never clapped eyes on. ’Here!’ said 1, pushing the glass toward the bartender, ‘do you put these things in your cocktails now in stead of cherries” ‘What things?’ said he. ‘Why, things like this chro matic kissing bug in my glass,’ said I. 'I can’t see anything,’ he replied, smil ing significantly, and by jove! when I looked the second time I couldn't see anything myself. The creature had vanished. “I was so startled I could hardly find my tongue, and the bartender contin ued to grin in a meaning fashion. ‘l’d take my oath,’ said I, ‘that I saw a horrible purple and yellow bug in that glass not ten seconds ago!’ ‘Yes, I’ve seen ’em myself,’ said the fresh bar tender. 'l’ve even had ’em come up out of the glass and make faces at me. It’s a sign you ought to change your brand of whisky.’ I ignored his un kind inuendo and was about to leave the place, with badly jarred nerves, when the solution of the mystery sud denly appeared before my eyes. You see, the bar counter is made of that spotted, variegated marble in which you can find all kinds of queer pat terns, and right there, before where i stood, was my bug in natural mosaic. My cocktail happened to be directly above it when I noticed the thing, and it was, of course, somewhat magnified by being seen through the convex bot tom of the glass. “I said nothing about my discovery at the time,” continued the cotton man, “but next day I dropped in again and ordered a drink. ‘Seen any pur ple bugs this morning?’ asked the fresh bartender, sarcastically. ‘Not yet,’ said I. At that he gave me the cocktail, and I quietly shifted it to the right spot. ‘Merciful heavens!’ I yelled, ‘what does this mean, anyhow? Is it a joke or a put up job to murder me?’ The bartender looked into the glass and turned ashy. ‘Great snakes!’ he gasped, ‘how did that get in there?’ ’I don’t know,’ said I, ‘but it’s a irother ol’ the bug I saw yester day, and I believe you keep ’em in stock.’ He grabbed the glass and dashed its contents in the slop bucket. Then he made me anew cocktail, which I drank and walked out. “I let several days elapse,” the story teller went on, chuckling, “and then I sauntered in again, at a time when the bar was crowded. When the fresh bartender mixed my drink he watched me narrowly, but by a curious chance he deposited the glass directly over the mosaic bug. ‘That’s a nice con fection to serve in a cocktail,’ said I to a man at my elbow. ‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed, getting green about the jaws; ‘what kind of a brute is that?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said I; ‘some brand of candied microbe, I guess; they serve it to me here regular now, although I’ve never asked for it in my life.’ Ev erybody at the counter crowded up to take a look and everybody was horror struck. The bartender was distracted and as soon as possible he seized the cocktail and threw it away; but hts reputation as a careful mixer was gone with that crowd. “Well, I don’t want to bore you with unnecessary details, so suffice it to say that I have done my great bug special ty four times since and have decided to call it quits. Between you and me I have commenced to notice a wild look in the eye of my victim when l come into the place, and as it was no part of my plan to land him in a pad ded cell I think it is about time to let up and whistle off the bug. I don't know what he’ll do when he finds out the truth. It it was me I’d get an axe and leave an aching void the size of a bug in the top of th;|t counter.’ —New Orleans Times-Democrat. On Death and Burial. “Be not solicitous after pomp at my burial, nor use any expensive funeral ceremony.” "That man were better forgotten who had nothing of greater moment to register his name by than a grave " “Neither can I apprehend a tomb stone to add so great a weight of glorj to the dead as it doth of charge and trouble to the living.” “Unquietness importunes a living body more than a ceremony can ad vantage one that is dead.” Death, if he may be guessed at by his elder brother. Sleep, cannot be so terrible a messenger, being nor with out touch ease if not some voluptuous ness. Besides, nothing in this world is worth coming from the housetop to fetch it, much less from the deep grave, furnished with all things, be cause empty of desires.” Compensations for Old Age. Shank—Hello! there stands old Uncle Van Fossil, our most distin guished citizen. He's 105 years old. Always a rather no-account fellow till he reached his hundredth birthday. Since then his literary work has brought him a fine living. OShawe—Literary work? What does he do? Shank—Oh, he has a steady job writing testimonials to the various remedies that have prolonged his Ufa.