Wheeling Sunday register. [volume], June 11, 1893, Page 9, Image 9

About Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934

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CEDAR HOLLOW.
A ROMANTIC ADVETURE AND THE SEQUEL.
By Frederick Park-Stanton. ’
The mall train that left the Alexan
dria station on the Dlgbt of an October
storm, 18S7, had been held for connec
tions and was twenty-two mmutee be
hind schedule time; it was to be run on
a single track across the wild a“d de9°*
late stretch of country traversed by the
Virginia Midlaud railroad, from Alex
andria to Danville. On this train Rich
ard Torrance, of New York, had taken
passage, with two red Irish dogs of ped
igree aud a couple of guns, for Cedar
Hollow, the residence of his friend, j
Major Ameswood, who had written
him that pheasants, as they are
called down there, were becoming so
fat and plentiful that It seemed an act
of Improvidence to permit such a waste
of opportunity to go on. Torrance had
seen his dogs well housed in the bag
gage car forward and was patrollng the
station platform In whimslcial indeci
sion whether to travel In the smoking
car or on the third coach from the rear,
which a lady and child who had Inter
ested him had entered. He finals ef*
fected a sort of compromU*—he bestow- {
ed his guns and valise in the coach, in
the seat Immediately back of the one
the lady and child had taken, and
then as the train started out
Into the wet darkness for Its
long night run went forward Into the
smoker, where he found some gay spir
its In the persons of three commercial
travelers from Philadelphia, who had
liberally and comfortably Installed 1
themselves and were casting about for a |
fourth hand at a game of euchre. They
claimed him by the unwritten law of
tbe road and he, nothing loath, joined
them; but he played with au air of
preoccupation and gave uncertain,
laughter to the spicy narratives with |
which the drummers beguiled the game .
between deals. After finishing his
cigar aDd losing a coup.e of
games aud his reputation 49 4 j
_k. __ -i.rclinaulshed hlS
•eat to a passenger of iudtgenous
aspect and went back to the car in
which be had left his traps. The lady
who had attracted him sat nervously
watchful, her head resting wearily upon ;
her hand; the little girl had gone to:
sleep, with her bead In her companion s
lap. Torrance could see. In the hasty <
survey he made of their faces, by the (
flickering gleam of the car lamps that
the lady was young, possibly not more
than 25, and very pretty; that the child
was not more than 4 or 5 years of age,
and In feature an almost exact repro
duction of the elder, who, he reasoned,.
must be its mother. The lady was!
dressed in deepest black and veiled, but
not so heavily as to conceal the rather
pale loveliness of her face.
Torrance took his seat and made a
feint of reading the Washington papers,
but he divided the attention he gave to
the report of theCongressiODal proceed
ings with a study of the yellow hair of
the passenser who occupied the seat in
front of him and iu making formless
conjectures as to her destination. He ;
could see that she was very nervous,
possibly ill. He could dot wonder much
at any state of feminine nerves, for the
speed of the heavy train as it
plunged down the steep grades
and lurched around the sharp
curves was truly frightful. They had
passed Manassas Junction and the train
swept ou Into the wild and lonely region
beyond, through the stormy blackness
whtch was briefly Illuminated in passing
by the light from the car windows aud
the headlight of the panting, heaving
Iron mass ahead, whose soul was held
in the grasp of the silent, vigilant man
who drove it forward into the night.
The raiu beat spitefully against the]
black window panes aud the lamps
flickered aud fluttered dimly, but the
wild howl of the wind was lost in the
rush and roar of the wheels beneath aud
only the weird notes of the doep whistle
rang out now and then and were borne
hack on the voice of the tempest to their
ears. Faster and faster they sped on
till the swinging and lurching of the ;
cars seemed every moment to threaten !
derailment, and possibly a deep aud aw
ful plunge from one of the lofty trussles,
with which the road abounds, down, t
down to a horrible and perhaps not in-'
stant death. Torrance had no anxiety,
for he was an old and hardened traveler,
but he conceded what a strain It must
be for a delicate and timid woman; this
speed, this darkuess and this storm.
There were but half a dozen other pas
sengers iu the car, most of whom were
reading, and, as he heard a sleepy cry of;
complaint from the child about its be-:
inn- cold, he ventured to accost the
mother.
“Pardon me mad&m,” he said, lean-*
tng forward, “but will you allow me to [
throw this coat over the little girl? The
car seems cool, and I feel a draught.
They ought te have fires in the cars at
this time of the year in such weather.” j
She hesitated a moment, then with a
graceful acknowledgement accepted the
light overcoat he teudered her and
spread it over the sleeping child. As
■he did not teem Inclined to encourage
him to further conversation, he lapsed
into quiet qalescecce and idle specula
tion respecting her place geographical- j
ly. Presently she turned aud asked In
evideut apprehension: “Is not the speed
something extraordinary, unusual?”
Seeing the looked-for opportunity to
reassure her her hs hastened to reply,
with the nonchalance of the experi
enced traveler and the readiness of a
man who reasons quickly: “Oh, no;
not for this train. It’s a fast tratu,
and they’re a little behind time I be
lieve. You really need have no alarm,
for the engineer is the safest and best
on the line."
This was pure fabrication on Tor
rance’s part, for he knew the engine
driver about as well as he knew his
next-door lodger in New York who, he
had heard, was a young man of disso
lute habits; but he saw it had partially
the desired effect, that of allaying the
lady’s fears, and he felt supremely de
fiant of the iujury it might do bis con
science.
“You know him then?” she said with
a faint smile.
“I know him; his name Is Ferguson;
a very trusty man.’*
This was even worse, and Terrance
began to wonder anew why it had been
predicted years ago that he, for reason
of* his almost morbid truthfulness,
would be a failure as a lawyer: and he
began to acquire a new measure of self
respect which had been sorely tried in
l a trial in which be had been worn out
by baffling female witnesses quiet re
cently.
“I should think that It would require
great courage to be an eogiueer or
a night as this,” she weut on,
ently glad of the opportunity to
and relieve some of the tension
nerves. The storm is terrible, an
not very brave when oo—
Her voice rose to a stifled sere
the whistle sounded sharply, an
wheels commenced to grind in
uti-.hes of the air brakes which
applied so suddenly that the occupants
of the car were almost forced from their
seats. Torrance got on his feet Imme
diately and assisted the lady in regain
ing her former angle of position, and
tried in a measure to restore her com
posure, which, however, was a futile
attempt. The train stopped and ran
slowly back a few rods and stopped
again; a confused buzz of voices through
out was borne fitfully by the gusts of
wind, and the twinkle of the trainmen’s
lanterns mads spots in the rainy dark
ness here and there tilt ail the spots
converged at one point beside the track.
Torrance started to go out, though he
suspected well enough what it was,
when a nervous cla-p was laid on his
arm and he heard the lady’s voice say
ing, “Please speak to that woman over
there and tell her—I believe I’m going
to—I feel very unwell—I—”
He did not wait for her to finish, but
with eager prompting unlocked his va
lise and began a hasty search for bis
brandy-flask. While he was thus en
gaged the train started on again and
one of the drummers who had gotten
of! to see what had happened came
through the car on his way to the
smoker, and in response to some inqui
ries said, with the customary terse de
scriptive eloquence of his kind, “Man
struck and killed. Walking on the
track. Tramp. They’ve got him load
ed in the baggage car."
Torrance, who by sundry glances had
tried to stop, but in vain, the commer
cial man in his compressed account of
the affair, having found his flask turned
to the lady and discovered that she had
fainted. Slightly perplexed he hasten
ed to the cooler and got some water in
the drinking-cup, and with the assist
ance of an elderly woman passenger,
who lent her aid with a bottls of house
hold ammonia and a sympathetic “po’
thing, I reckon she must hev been
sca’d,” set about to revive her. The
little girl had not awakened farther
than to turn partially over and make
some inarticulate little murmur. “Did
they say say some one was killed?” was
her first question on regaining her
power of speech. The train was thun
dering on again and her nervousness
was not at ail diminished,
“Cow killed,” replied Torrance with
delightful and utterly reckless men
dacity. “She was walking on the track
and the engineer couldn’t see her in the
dark.”
He got up to request a couple of pas
sengers two or three seats away, who
were discussing the accident in a loud
tone, to moderate their voices, as he
did not wish the lady to know of it,
and then returned to administer with
experienced hand and unwearying per
tinacity of argument a small dose of
cognlac to his fellow traveler.
“It was very slily of me to faint,”
she said with a smile, handing him back
tbe glass; a faint flush crept into her
cheeks, whether due to the stimulant or
to the recollection of her action in seiz
ing his arm, Torrance did not trouble
himself to conjecture; he only saw that
it heightened her beauty.
“Very natural for a lady to faint—
perfectly proper; established by the
highest social precedent,” he responded
with a laugh. “It was probably the
mention of the cow that did It. It’s a
tradition, I believe, with us that ladies
are habitnaiiy timid in the presence of
those animals; the proximity of the
creature was too much for your
nerves.”
“Oh, I beg of you, sir,—H
“Pardon me,” he interrupted, seeing
an opportunity to change tbe subject,
but determined to keep up the allegory
of the cow even If he was obliged to go
somewhere and get a portion of that
cow’s tall to produce in evidence—“but
allow me to make myself known; I am
Richard Torrance, of New York, on my
way to Cedar Hollow to see my old
friend. Major Ame9wood—perhaps you
know him?”
“I am going to Cedar Hollow myself,”
she said. “I have relatives there, bntl
fear they will all he.In bed before I can
reach them.”
“No one to meet yon?” he asked, ele
vating his eyebroys slightly.
“No. My visit is wholly unexpected.
I shall probably catch the stage.”
“Rather a bad night for staging,” he
observed musingly, and then in the
wonder be felt he bocame silent and she
fell Into a light sleep. He was drop
ping into a doze himself, when the con
ductor, whom he had notified to stop at
Cedar Hollow, shook him by the arm.
lie felt the train slowing up and roused
himself uud began to gather up his
traps.
“The lady gets off here, too, I be
lieve,” said the official.
“Yes. I’ll waken her,” said Torrance
and the conductor passed on. Reach,
ing over he touched her lighiy on the
shoulder. She awoke Instantly.
“If you are going to Cedar Hollow this
Is the station where we get off,” he said
in answer to her look, which questioned
him. She began to collect her little
luggage, and wakened the child.
• ‘T'nmtt wake un. dear. Wo
get off here. Here is your coat, sir. I
am more than grateful. Bessie slept
qnlte comfortably. Did you have a
nice sleep, little girl?”
Bessie gave her mother a very sleepy
answer, and Torrance took his coat
rather awkardly and gathered up his
guns and valise as the train came to a
stop.
“Cedar Hollow!” called- the brake
man with sarcastic emphasis, breaking
into a smile at his own humor.
“Put the coat around her,” said Tor
rance with sudden Impulse; 'Til carry
her.” He took the child on his disen
gaged arm and bore her to the door.
Bessie was sleepy, and her little head
nestled warmly on his broad shoulder
and remained there. He experienced a
strange thrill run through bis bach
elor's being as he felt her slight weight
against him, and he kissed furtively the
golden mass of hair that lay against his
cheek.
Cedar Hollow was only a siding with
a wretched little shanty for a station
that was usually kept locked. It was
quite deserted when then stepped from
the car, and the facetious brakeman
said something about its being a pleas
ant locality for a summer resort “if
you didn’t care what you said,” as he
assisted the lady to alight, and then the
tr&iu moved on again, the hoarse breath
ing of the locomotive Pome back to
them on the wind long after the red
rear lights had dlsappeered around a
curve. They were quite alone. .
“Nobody here!” said Torrance, cheer
fully, as he placed his valise and guns
on the platform under the shelter of
the projecting roof, which at least kept
the rain off.
“I’ll take her now, Mr. Torrance,”
said her mother, reaching for the child.
“Yon have been very kind, I must go
on. I must be at Cedar Hollow to
night.”
“How are you going?” asked Tor
ranee in patient wonderment, retaining
his hold of the child.
“Why, the stage; doesn t it run from
here any more?” she asked.
“The stage—oh, I forgot to tell yotr;
you must forgive me—hasn’t run from
here for two years; it runs from Gordon
instead.”
. “I most walk, then," was the answer.
“Walk!” he shouted. “Madam, are
you sure that you are quite sane ? Why,
it’s ten miles if It's a block. W hat wiil
you do with Bessie; leave her here? he
asked with calm irony.
“I shall have to carry her, ’ was the
reply.
Torrance groaned aloud. “Why, you
| couldn’t get ten feet from this spot
you’d get lost;lamentably, Irretrievably
! lost. You’d drown. Stay here. I expect
a conveyance from the major’s.
“How can we wait here?” she asked.
“There is scarcely any shelter.”
He divioed that she was shivering.
“You are cold,” he exclaimed. “Take
this coat. I Insist on it.”
He removed the overcoat from Bessie
and handed it over to her, while he rap
idly divested himself of the coat he was
wearing and wrapped it about the sleep
ing child.
“Mr. Torranoe, this is altogether too
much. I really cannot allow this,” he
protested,” but he had become deaf.
“I’ve got another In my valise,” he
said. “I’ll get It outJf you'll hold Bes
sie a minute. Bettfer tako it or I’ll
wrap the dogs in it. By the way,
where are the dogs? Well, I’ll bo
blessed. I actually believe I’ve forgot
ten them altogether and let them go on
on the train—the baggageman didn’t
know, I didn’t tell him.”
She laughed helplessly with him at
the absudity of the affair, aud said she
was very sorry, it was ail her fault, she
was entirely to blame. She accepted
the overcoat finally, and he got out his
shooting coat and put It on; It was not
very heavy but It would serve. He felt
an internal warmth, a heat that was
generated within his breast, pervade
his whole being as ho blundered arouud
in the wet searching for some sticks
with which to start a fire. “I don’t see
what cau nave oecome oi major s
rig,” he muttered. The fire would not
burn, and having exhausted hla entire
supply of matches he was giving up iu
despair, when he heard the snort of
a horse not far off. “Hello there,” he
shouted, groping hl§ way In the direc
tion whence the sound had come. No
answer. He kept on. Presently an ob
ject a little blacker than the night
loomed up in front of him, and ho went
up to It; by feeling he made It out to be
a carriage, to which was attached a
pair of horses. He surmised that it
was the major’s rig, but where was the
driver? He climbed up on the wheel
and felt about the iuterior for that
functionary; at last he clutched him
and shook him vigorously, a measure
that elicited a sleepy “Ya-a-s, sab.”
“Zebe, Is It you, you black rascal?
Wake up.”
“Dat you, Mass’ Dick?" came In a lit
tle clearer tone.
“Yes. Wake up, and drive over here
to the station. How long have you been
slumbering here?”
“Jes* come dla rainnit, sah. Mus’
hev gone to sleep while waitin’ fo' de
cabs.”
“Well, bo lively now. You’ll get to
Cedar Hollow to-night, or rather this
morning, and won’t have to walk,
either,” he said, as he made his way
back to the platform. “Thedusky rep
robate had his horses hitched under a
tree while he was sleeping peacefully in
their blankets in the carriago,” he con
cluded with a laugh. She murmured
something about his being very kind, as
the vehicle drew up to the platform, as
he helped her In and handed Bessie In
after her.
“Zebe, this lady will ride to the Hol
low with us. Have you any baggage,
' madam?”
“No. My trunk will come down by
express later. Your poor dogs, Mr.
Torrance!”
They laughed again at this,, and
Torrance had to explain to Zebe that
the dogs would probably come down by
express later, too. They got started at
length and plashed on drearily through
the mud and rain on their long a tedious
drive. After two hours the horses’
hoofs struck the gravel road ou the
the major’s grounds, and finally drew
up in front of a gloomy pile in which
but a single light was visible.
“We’s heah," said Zebe with a sigh,
waking from a long dose in which all of
his companions had shared, leaving the
horses to find the way by themselves,
Indeed the only practical plan.
“What’s that!” exclaimed Torrance,
rousing with a start on hearing the
barking of dogs.
•*nh vps. (in into the house. Zebe.
and wake up one of the girls jyid tell
her there Is a lady here with a little girl
who will stay all night. Tell her to
get the spare room ready, If its not oc
cupied. We are here, madam,” he said,
opening the carriage door. “Here?
Where?” was the sleepy question.
“At our destination; at the major’s,
where you will remain for the rest of
the night. Of course you can’t find
your people to-ulght, and if they are
not expecting you they will not be
alarmed.”
“But what will he—what will he—the
major—say?” she asked, as if hesi
tating to accept the proffered shelter.
“Who? The major? He will con
sider it an honor; he will thank me for
bringing you. I don’t kuow whether
you know the Virginia spirit or not,
hut it is, I can assure you, one of un
questioning eager hospitality.”
Zebe went out to look after his horses
and Torrance stood a long time by the
tire of kindling logs, indulging the
odter and Inner feeling of warmth and
musing strangely; an emotion of pity
sprang up in his heart as he thought of
the mother and her beautiful child,
whose hair he yet felt oo his cheek,
aud he swore to himself that he would
do anything for them, anythiug, no
matter how hard; he thanked vaguely
the kind fate that had thrown bis man’s
help in the way of thir need.
“Who the devil Is she?” he muttered,
thinking in the singular, as he went
slowly up the stairs to his room.
Major Ameswood lived in the post
ellum period of which we write in some
tate, though quite alone; that is, alone
o far as kindred were concerned,
hough he had always about his estate,
which had been saved from the severer
ravages of war and preserved with some
pretension to its former importance a
host of old servants who had once been
his slaves and who remained loyal to
him during the trying times of seces
sion and emancipation, In ante
bellum days his estate was the
largest, his slaves the most numerous,
his house the finest aDd hts doors the
widest open of any for miles about.
His *ife nad died during his service
in th4 Confederate army, leaving him
an oJy etna then 3 y0ar9 of ag®
This r^iild, named after his native
State, continued to bo his only idol un
til she reaped the age of 20, when she
married against her father’s will a
wandering artfot from the North, a
man who had mofjs talent than means,
more amiability than sterling qualities
of a sterner sort.^For this act the
father had cast hiAdaughter off; the
Virginian had sworMby all the tradi
tloni of bis ancestors never to look up
on the face of his child again. After
this the major lapsed sadly into high
living, gout and irribihty, behaving
like a grayheaded polar bear; during
these times of storm and stress his an
cient retralners would approach him
with trembling awe and do his several
biddings with terrified alacity. He
had now reached 54 and assumed all
the privileges that that mature age be
stows upon the masculine portion of hu
manity. He scoffed at reconstruction,
hated Jefferson Davis and bowed to the
memory of Robert E. Lee, with whose
army he bad served.
The major had many warm friends,
but his choicest spirit was the son of
his dearest, deceased friend, Richard
Torrauce, who, strangely enough, had
been a red hot abolitionist. Richard
Torrance, Jr., was the major’s man
among men, and he loved him for his
I owu sake and for the sake of his father.
Thirty-five, good looking, honorable,
chivalrous and a prince among sports
men, Richard Torrance had got a place
in the major's affections second to none,
and the old gentleman was never happy
as when Torrance put his briefs aside
and came down from New York to shoot.
Virgina Ameswocd Torrance had
never seen, for she had married and
gone from the paternal roof before he
had returned from Europe, whither
he had journeyed for a prolonged course
in the study of foreign jurisprudence.
The major never spoke of his daught
er to friend or foe, but Torrance had
gathered from vague observations made
by servants that Miss Virginia” was
“jes’ lovely.” Richard had never mar
ried. It was, perhaps, his father’s wish
and the major’s also that he and Virgin
ia Ameswood should wed when he re
turned from abroad, but fate and the
major’s daughter had ordained other
wise. Such was the condition of things
general and personal when Torrance,
after a short sleep, arose aud dressed.
He went down to the dlnning-room.
whither the major had been wheeled
and was impatiently awamng uun.
“Major, how are you!” he said, step
ping forward and grasping the out
stretched hand of his friend.
“Dick, I’m glad to see you. I am,
’pon my houab. I'm well, Dick, well
all but this lDfernal gout. I can’t get
up, you see. It’ll go away In a day or
two and then we’ll go out after the
birds. There’ll be a great slaughter,
for the country’s alive with them.
They are a little fat, but they fly
strongly. It’ll be great sport, Dick.”
“Glad to hear that, major. Is the
gout any worse?”
“Yes, worso a little, Dick; but I’m
going to **xocute a flank movement on
the enemy, and cut off his supplies.”
“How is that, major?' Going to com
pel him to shift his base of operations,
or divide him and whip him in sections?
Explain. I’m not a strategist.”
“I’m going to stop eating and drink
ing, Dick, and starve him into capitula
tion.”
Torrance laughed heartily at the fig
ure and the major Joined, when. In the
height of his mirth his face became dis
torted with pain and he roared out,
Zebe, Zebe, you—scoundrel, comeheah.”
Zebe hastened In with face of ashen
terror. “Ya-a-s, sah.”
“Go and get Dr. Withers at onco and
bring him with you. You hear me?”
“Ya-a-s, sah, I hoah you sah." Zebe
made hasty exit, and the major moder
ated enough to say: “I was out after
the birds over beyond Spooner's creek
the other day, but the pointer Is too
young to work well. I shot him Dick.”
“Kill him?" asked Torrance, smiling
at the old man’s characteristic vehe
mence in dealing with a too eager dog.
“No, I didn’t kill him but I made him
sore, Richard, 1 mado him very sore for
a month. He won’t flush any more
birds for a full month anyway. Did
you bring the Irish setters?”
“Yes, I brought them, and I didn’t
bring them,” responded Torrance; and
then he entered into a relation of the
events of the preceding night. The
major grew much interested.
“Going to walk did you say? Going
to walk? Dick, did you allow her to
say It twice It your presence? Didn't
you offer to carry her?” he asked exci
tedly, when the other had come to that
portion of the narrative. “Didn’t you
say you’d walk twenty miles to procure
her a conveyance rather than have her
soil her boots?”
“Not exactly, major, not exactly,”
replied Torrance, making allowance
for the old gentleman’s surplus of gal
lantry. “I didn’t offer to carry her,
because I didn’t think she would take
kindly to that suggestion. I hadn’t
known her long enough. But I told
her she might ride in your carriage."
“Quite right, Dick, quite right. I
should have sent a carriage purposely
for her had I known she was coming.”
Torrance concluded up to the time
when the unknown had been taken
prra nt h® r'amllne. When he had dono
or rather before he had quite fiuished,
the major broke out: "A lady a guest un
der iny roof and I not know it. How is
she quartered? VVhcro Is she? Caroline,
Jano, Matilda, Judy, go and see if the
lady wauts anything. Soe if she is
quite comfortable. Tell her she shall
have breakfast sent up to her room Im
mediate. Find out what she would
like for her breakfast. Tell her not to
disturb herself until she feels quite dis
posed. She must be fatigued."
The major stormed around thus a
little while longer, bqt finally he became
calm.
"So you lost your dogs, eh, Dick?
That’s a good Joke on you. The sex
bewitches you too, eh?” he chuckled.
"I’ll send Tom for the dogs. But
come, let us break our fast; I believe
the niggahs have put something on for
us; but if I didn’t watch ’em, Dick,
they’d starve me to death.”
A servant wheeled the major to the
table, but before eating he summoned
again with considerable uproar the sev
eral females domestics, with half dozen
more, to bid them attend to the require
ments of the lady. They came in an
swer to his bidding, with faces that
bore mingled expressions of terror, of
delight, of secrecy, and of apprehension.
"The lady is comfo’table, sah,” they i
said Individually, presenting themselves
in a sort of Indian file and then they i
echoed It in chorous. whereat the ma- i
jor ordered them all oot of the room. <
"The niggahs are growing very 1m- i
portant and impudent, Richard, since i
the war. I don’t know what I am go
ing to do with them. I’ll have to sell i
them, I reckon. But what—who—”
He stopped very suddenly, his face i
grown sudenly pale. Tarrance looked
un quickly and saw standing in the
huge doorway the lady, his fellow
traveler of the night before. She, too,
was very pale, and he was astounded i
to hear the words that broke tne awk
ward silence: "Father, can you for
give me?” 1
It flashed over him then—the major’s i
daughter, a widow, returned to her
father’s honse. He glanced at the
major, whose face was working strongly,
whose chest was heaving, but whose
compressed lips made no movement.
"Father," she said again, advancing
into the room. i \
The old man rose slowly and painful
ly, and did what he scarcely coaid have
physically done bad he not been subject
to the storm of emotional lnflneices
which swayed
and resolutely
stood humbly,
hands loosely
her head bent
expected a blow;
door, which he
oat vouchsafing
She broke down then, ana iorrance,
left alone with her, became thoroughly
alarmed.
“Madam, In the name of heaven, do
not permit yourself to be so distressed,
he began, stepping over to her. She
had thrown herself into a chair, and
her sobs were pitiful. “Madam, listen
to me, I beg of you,” he went on. “The
major is not well, is ill, Is not himself,
is utterly incapable of such conduct
when not afflicted with gout. ^-ou
must see, you must have seen—”
Then the absurdity of what he was
saying became so manifest to him that
he turned away to hide an irrepressible
smile. He did not know what ‘to say,
so he walked the floor with his hands in
his pockets. When she became calm
enough to listen, he said: “Madam, I
will go to the major; I will Intercede, I
will Implore, reason, threaten, compel
him to listen to yon.”
“Thank you, Mr. Torarnce,” she said,
looking up at him through her tears,
which made her very lovely; “but it
would be useless. I know my father;
he will be deaf and dumb, it seems
strange that I could even consider such
a favor,” she added, just a tinge of her
Ameswood pride showing momentarily
In her voice and look; “but I have suf
fered so much, and I am so tired of it,
and—and—” she gave way again and
wept afresh.
“I don’t care If he will bo deaf and
blind, I’m going to him,” said Torrance,
determined by this evidence of her dis
tress. “I will conjure him on the
friendship he bears me, on the friend
ship he held for my father; I will con
jure him by everything he holds sacred
on earth and in heaven to hear what
you have to say. You will promise me,
Mrs.- . . .
“Bo-o-olton,” she sobbed In her hand
kerchief. .
»• r 'nsvn vamp ntcnrinrA then. Mrs.
Bolton, that if I act as your ambassa
dor in this affair you will stand by me
with your moral support no matter
whatuiay bo the outcome of the nego
tiations. I have never yet had occasion
to treat with a hostile military power,
aud I can’t say that I am able to ap
proach the subject very suitably equip
ped with diplomatic precedents. How
ever—”
He laughed with a rather forced g&y
ety aud she laughed, too, nervously
and quite helplessly.
“No, no. I don’t promise anything
at all,” she sobbed. “Don’t go. I will
go away.”
He left her alone and sought the
major, whom he found In his study.
The old man had evidently passed
tnrough a paroxysm of excruciating
torture, but be had now in some degree
recovered his composure. Torranco
entered and closed the door carefully
behind him; the major viewed this
proceeding with some concern, but he
waited for the other to begin.
“Major Ameswood," said Torrance,
commencing the attack at once, I was
inadvertently the spectator of a scene
of domestic drama this morning, and I
feel in a measure personally respon
sible for some of the consequences, as I
was the moans of bringing the lady,
Mrs. Bolton, into your house last night.
We will get to tbe point at once. I ask
you plainly, bluntly, as between meu,
what you are going to do.’’
“Richard, I can do nothing. Do you
know the circumstances?"
“I have heard the story in a very
fragmentary way. But your daughter’s
husband is dead; she comes to your
house to throw herself on your natural
protection; she has*suffered a great
deal; sho is a lady; she is your daughter;
she is-”
“Richard, I have no daughter,” In
terrupted the major, averting his
gaze. *
“Nonsense, Major Ameswood; do not
try that with mo. You aro a
gentlemen, a Southern gentleman,
a man of chivalrous instincts
and traditions, and you treat a
lady outrageously. I say frankly you
treat a lady rudely. If Mrs. Bolton Is
not your daugnter she is at le*st a lady,
and therefore entitled to the highest
respect and courtesy of every gentle
man on earth. What am I, a Northerner,
to think of this boasted Virginia chiv
alry? Is It a mere figure of speech?”
“Dick, you are my friend and I can
not answer you,” said the major, his
eyes blazing under the taunt. “If you
were not Dick Torrauce’s son I should
kill you, sah.”
Torrance smiled under h1s mustache
had continued In the same tone: “That’s
Just what I wish you would do, major;
It would show that you have still with
in you the instincts of a gentleman.
But let us return to the point; I will
consider this manor with you later; will
you see your daughter?”
“Richard, I say again I have no
“Then will you see the lady who ac
companied me here last night? ’
“I cannot,” replied 'the major, his
face working under his trouble.
“Then, Major Ameswood, I must not
continue longer a guest under your
roof. You insult me by refusing to see
a lady I- brought Into yonr house; I
must construe It as I will. I can no
longer remain the friend of a man who
»»
“Dick, my boy, don’t say that,”broke
In the major, hi* voice shaken by emo
tion beyond his control. “I love you
like my own son, Richard, and If you do
not come any more the old man will be
irery lonely. Richard, yon know how
much you are to me.”
“But you say you will not see this
ady.”
“I say I cannot.”
“And I say you will not,” pursued
rorrance. relentlessly. “You will not
reconsider?”
“Dick, don’t ask me. I cannot."
“Then, Major,” aaid Torrance, bis
hand on the door-knob, “I muit pack
ny valise.”
A groan of mental and physical an*>
?ulsh was the only answer he received,
md he left the room feeling terribly
:ut up; but the thought of the mother
tod her golden-haired child that nes
tled on his breast in the stormy dark
ness of last night safe in bis man’s
strong arms sustained him. He fonnd
Stirs. Bolton in the hall with her bat
tod veil on, holding Bessie by the band.
“You are not going, Mrs. Bolton?”
le said as he approached.
“I must,” she answered sadly. “Your
mission I can see by your face was not
mccessful.”
“It was not, I grieve to say. The
military was too much for met was ob
1 urate and evasive. But if you go I go
tlio; and If yon can wait a minute I
prill take It upon me to see that you
want for no personal comforts on the
return.'’ .
“Mr. Torranafe, yon are kind, gener
ous; but I cantfot, I must not, I will not
illow myself Jo be the means of es
tranging you/and my father who, I
know, chertfifes your friendship higher
than anythin! he posseeeea. You must
not go; for nf- father’s sake I ask it.”
“Mrs. Boltlj,” be said, with qniet
emphasis, "if you will permit me to
leave with you aod at least see you
safely as far as the railway station, I
shall consider myself as the recipient
of a very great favor."
She bowed assent and he hastened to
get hef "Lincoln,* he said, toss
in* a half-dollar to a young servant ho
met in the lower htH* "run over to the
tavern and have them food for a two
horse carriage right a**!-” Farther
on he encountered all the female do
mestics, who assailed hiy w'i\h whis
pered interrogations, older sues
with lamentations and,* tears. "MasV
Dick, Miss Vi’ginla /roln’?” "Can’t
Miss Vi’ginla stas?v "Wha’ Miss
Vi’ginia goin’, Mass' Dick?’’
"Mass’ Dick, fo’ de good deah Lo’d’s
sake, Mass’ Dick wont’ you beg, won’t
you pray unto the majah to keep Miss
Virginia an’ de little chile what looks so
like old Missus yere?” pleaded old Caro
line who bad been Virginia’s nurse in
the other days, the tears rolling down
her ancieut dusky face while her hands
were clasped imploringly.
"I’ll see that she doesn’t come to any
harm, Caroline," said Torrance, gentl),
touched by this appeal and knowing the
futility of explanations. He succeeded
in gettlug away from the circle of dark
anxious faces, and went on to get his
overcoat and valise with which he re
turned presently to the lower ball where
he had left Mrs. Bolton waiting. "I
am ready,” ho said. "A carriage will
be here In a few minutes.”
She was crying quietly behind her
veil, and Bessie was trying vaguely to
oomfort her. Torrance stood stroking
hjs mustache with a thoughtful count
enance; suddenly his face brightened
and he said: "I will *© and say good
by to the major, Mrs. Bolton. May
Bessie go with me?”
"Yes. Child, go with Mr. Torrance
to see grandpapa,” she said, putting
Bessie’s hand in his. Bessie was not
backward, aud together they trod the
length of the vast hall, he grave and
silent, she chattering blithely and irrel
evantly as a sparrow. They entered
the study and the major saw with mani
fest consternation thl* new and re
enforced attack bearib,: down on him.
Torrance had his overcoat on his arm
and his hat in his hand. Bessie survey
ed her grandfather In silence and olnog
closely to Torrauce’s hand, for a twinge
of the gout just then made the old gen
tinman’s features anything but reassur
log.
“Major, I have come to say good
by,” said Torrance with extreme
gravity,
“Do you mean It, Dick?” asked the
major, without looking at him.
“I do.”
“But Dick, I have sent Tom (or the
dogs."
•Til make you a present of the dogs,
major, but-"
“You are not going to walk to the
train Dick?" interrupted the major.
“Ob, no, l have ordered a rig from
Spooner’s.”
“You’ve done what?” roarod the ma
jor between auger and the pain which
Just then reached Its height. Bessie
began to cry. Tho major, whoso eyes
had not left her face since she entered,
said In a softened voice: “Don’lcry, lit
tle one.” Ho reached his hand forth to
place It on her ;gelden curls. “Whose
child is this, Richard?"
“Your grandchild, major. Do you
see no resemblance to any oue who has
lived In your family? Kiss grandpapa
good-by, Bessie."
Bessie wiped the tears out of her eyes
with her fist aud sobbiugly clambered
onto the old man’s knee to do as she was
bid*In her effort kicking against the
gouty foot, cabling the perspiration to
start out on the major’s forehead. The
face of this veteran, who had been In
the thick of seventeen engagements,
and bore the scars of five battles, was a
study; the tears were coursing freely
down the massive features as he took In
hls arms this living miniature of the
loved wife whom be had called Bessie in
the early days of courtship aud mar
riage, but who for twontv-three years
had been only a memory that lingered
about the churchyard In the hollow.
His voice was not much above a whis
per as he turned to Torrance and asked;
“Where Is Virginia?”
Torrance was not slow In finding her
aud shutting the door on the three to
gether; theu, as a sort of compensation
for bis own feelings, be wont out on
tho veranda aud smoked a cigar. Lin
coln drove up with the livery rig. aud
Torrauce In bis exuberance, abased It
and abused Lincoln, telling him to take
It tack at once, ae no lady could ride In
each a mediocre affair; be paid liberally
for It, however. By and by the major's
voice was lifted up In the distauce and
Torrance heard it from afar.
“Mass’ Dick, de raajah wants you,”
said Zebe, venturing hi* head out
through the door.
Torrance ootv'rel the library and
found everybody tearfully radiant ex
cept Bessie, who was Indifferently hap
py over grandfather’s watch.
“Richard,! think we can go to break
fast now,” said the major when ho saw
him. “Caroline, Judy, Lucy, Miranda,
Stella, Agrippina, come hear and attond
to Miss Virginia and Mistress Bessie.”
“You nlg^ahs, you heah?” said Zsbo
sternly, breakiug In on an excited but
perfectly silent dance tne younger girls
were haviDg In the hall. “De msjsh s
callin' yen. Kenan miu , uuw, uu
went on warningly; “he ain't liable to
wait long."
At length they were finally seated at
the table, and after a moment’s silence
the major said, with & iwloKle In his
eye: “Dick, tell me, Isn’t this whole
business put up on me between you aud
Virginia and Bessie?"
“Can you answer him calmly. Mr.
Torrance? I could scarcely think lae
major capable of such an insinuation,"
laughed Mrs. Bolton.
“It wasn’t exactly a put up Job, ma
jor," replied Torrauce, “at least so far
as my relation to Mrs. Bolton was con
cerned, whose Identity I didn’t guess
until I saw her enter the dining room
this morning In dramatic appeal to stern
parent et cetera. I oegio to thlak now
It’s a little private theatrical you'vs
gotten up for any entertainment.”
“Oh, that’s even worse than papa,
Mr. Torrance,” objected Mrs. Bolton,
while her father laughed uproarously.
“What is the matter, papa?" she asked,
and his mirth sbcWsd no signs of abate
ment.
“I was thinking of Dick’s dogs",
shouted toe major with tears In his eyes
Then she laughed, then Torrance and
analiy Bessie, to see the others laugh.
“Tell me, Mr. Torrance,” said Mrs.
Bolton, when their glee had somewhat
subsided, "wasn’t that story about the
cow an Invention of yours? Wasn’t It
really a man.”
“I’m sorry to say, Mrs. Bolton, it
was," confessed Toraoce. “But
something bad to be done. While 1 am
about It I may as well unload my con
science—about that engineer whose
Lame I told you was Smith—"
“No, Ferguson,” she corrected.
“Wa9 It Ferguson? I believe It
Well 1 don’t know him from Jeff
your father’s friend.,
•‘No friend of mine, tab,
jgp i.a hnt.lv.
Jor, “It that whan you began thla cam
paign for the spoliation of my affec
tions what yoor plan of attack waa? Il
waa well carried out. Looks like yonr
band. Torrance, but there waa a woman
behind Jt*”
“Our theory was this,’* answered
Torrance, “to bombard your fortifica
tion with our biggest gun till you weak
ened.”
“You brought your heaviest battery
to bear last,” said the major. “Thai
was good tactics. But honest now,
Virginia, weren't you keeping Bessie as
a reserve corps? I won’t ask Dick, for
Li’s Jot capable of such finesse, being
only a man—and wouldn’t you hay*
stayed and maintained the siege eveia
if—" \
“Ah, Bessie wal my Invention," in
terrupted Torraoce. “TthdUghl of h«r
in the extremity we were pitted lo, .
and knowing Just where yeor
ble point lay—" «
“Dick.” said the old man, gassog at '
him with admiration, “you’re a scoun
drel, sab; and a lawyer, which is
worse.”
Torrance protracted his visit beyond
all precedent long after the birds were
killed off, and when be wetrt back to
New York he concluded to take Mrs.
Bolton with him. The Major, cured or
the worst of his gout, thought he would
go to New York also to ceosuit a spe
cialist abeut preventing its recurrencei
he lives there now during the winter
season in a fiat with Mr. and Mrs. Tor
rance.
Ab ArkBBMt Custom.
I was oq the Washita River, In
Southern Arkansas. I had been told
where to stop to secure Information
about a certain piece of land. 1 reach
ed the place to find It a very dilapidated
log cabin, and In front of It sat a long,
lean man, who was so yellow in the face
that I at first took him for a mulatto.
He was stretching and yawnlug as I
rode up, and he apologised for not get
ting up by saying:
“'Scute me, stranger, but It's about
time fur my oblll."
“Much ague around here?**
“Heaps of It.”
“Do you live here all alone?”
"Reckon not. The ole woman Is In
thar, but sbo's got a chill. Bal la my
oldest, but she’s chillin', too. Rube Is
beyand the raewl shed, and he's got It
bad to-day. Yo' kin tee Danny out by
the log heap, and Busan may be up on
the roof. It's our obltlln' day and
everybody has got to ehtll.”
1 expressed my sympathy and began
to ask after the land, but he held up a
shaking finger and said:
"Stranger, I don't know what the
custom Is elsewhere, but right 'round
yere when a feller has a chill he makes
it his business to be chilly, and, to 'tend
to nutbln’ else but abaktn’. 'Deed, It's
all he klu 'tend to. Sorry to dtsopfat
yo’, but from now to 4 o’clock I shall
hav’ may back agin this cabin and be
sbakln’ all the chinkin' ont from atween
the logs. Come back trier that and i'll
talk to yo’.”
I returned that evening and hecbeer
fully gave me all desired Information,
and when I rode away he called after
me:
“Mighty sorry to hev pot yo' to eo
much trouble, but we've got to foller
custom, yo’ know, when we’re a chillin',
but when the chill goes off and the
fever comes on, then we drap all for
malities and try to act nateral to every
body.”
The etymology «f
“Humbug” d&tfs hack to the battl^^
of the Boyne. II seems th it JsmssUB :
Issued from the mint 1st
coin composed of 'Worthless'
William HI., after the battle of the C
Boyne, ordered that the crown and 1
half-crown pieces shoild be taken# as
one penny and one-half ponny respect-■
ivfly. This soft metal was known V
among the Irish as aim-bog oroom-bog. V
When a piece was was offered at full
value they would say “you can’t oom*
bog roe.”
The word dua. which Is everywhere
recognised as good, as well as polite, Is
derived from the name of a London
bailiff, who was famous as a collector of
bad debts. When anyone refused to
pay his debts a last resort was to “dun
him.”
“Kick the bocket” barf its origin to a
coroner's verdict, In which the death of
one Boltover, who ta described as hav
ing hung himself to a beam and then
kicked the bucket on whloh be stood.
Oar Boom Towm Kctlp«e4.
Several lota in Corpblll, London, in
the Immediate neighborhood of the
Bauk of Kngland, were aold a*- a price
that averaged A'SO per foot, or some
thing over 110.000,000 an acre. Hevsral
neighboring lots of e<iual alxe wersv -
offered for tale some week# ago and
were bought In by the owaere at a
price considerably higher.
Before the year 1100 everyone wore .
mittens or went barehanded. Glove*
with fingers were Invented In the
twelfth century. __
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