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The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, March 01, 1895, Image 1

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn89060092/1895-03-01/ed-1/seq-1/

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always struck me that the little
village of Underwood smelt of
plant variously known in different
of England as "lad's-love,” “old
H n ,” or "southernwood.” It grew In
Hjjry garden; it formed a part of every
posy- It was as characteristic
's the place as the tall, white Jilldes
characteristic of Cheveley, the
mansion that stood outside the
Hlage and dominated it In the way
great country houses in rural i
still dominate the villages or |
at their feet. The lily-beds of ;
were famous throughout the ,
and they were supposed to be
the especial care of the reigning
Airedale, the mistress of Cheve-
Hy. But the Lady Airedale, of whom
following story has become known
(through a servant’s Indiscretion,
must be confessed) never st foot In
garden for many years before she

■ The Airedale Arms, a highly respect-
Ht Inn In the middle of the village.
Hi Inn that aped gentility and called
an hotel, was as redolent of
■outhernwood as of beer. A great jug
Hf It always stood on the bar counter,
which the florid-faced grey
the assistance of a gentle-faced, i
■weet-volced barmaid, Mary, who was
B delicate-looking creature, apparently
Hutte unfit for the post she Aided. But
■lary was a very capable young person, !
Hu spite of her delicate looks; and the
of the Airedale Arms was not, as a
Hull*. frequented by any but the most
He*!’ l ctable of travelers. Here the
Bagman In his gig would pull up and
H ' a drink; here village worthies
t-'d after a festivity — a wedding or
■uneral; here the latest items of gossip ,
|Mhoni Uie "-I g houses" w°re discussed, j
tramp and the laboring man were j
discouraged; they might drink if they I
■could pay; hut they usually felt them- |
■wives uncomfortable in such high and
■aristocratic society as that which the
■ landlord, Mr. Parker, liked to gather \
■round him, and slouched away to the I
■ nli.de Hart or the Spotted Dog public
.■ houses, In which their soiled clothes
■and baskets or bundles were not Jos
■ Bed aside b.v supercilious butiers and
■ eoa. iinien out of livery who had come
■ for their morning dram.
Indeed, Mr. Parker’s fame as a care
, landlord was so great that he was
frequently requested to “put up’ gentle-
Dtcn from the rectory or the Hall, or
Uieveley It If. for a ngiit or two; and I
he Prided himself on his power of mak- j
'h a sts comfortable. He par- !
till!'ally liked to have my lord's guests,
the bill was always promptly paid, and j
1™ me douceur generally added!
I thereto by the earl himself. He made i
.more in that way than by half the din- '
•ers and the Freemasons and the :
•urtal clubs and the bean feasters
*' * n his big dining room every
•prmg and summer.
He was not sorry, therefore, but a
■ttl curious when a gentleman who
come In a fly from the station,
Otree-quarti is of a mile away, an
nounced to the waiter that he did not
think he should remain long at the Air
•a'e Arms, because he was going up to
Cheveley to see Lord and Lady Aire
dale.
He won’t see my lady,” remarked
wf- Parker to one of his assistants,
Tor she’s ill | n bed from all I hear.
Tv* seen the doctor’s carriage go up
wife to-day."
"He said it very consequential tike,”
•*hl the waiter, who was boots and
general factotum at the Airedale Arms,
as well as waiter on grand occasions,
as if he thought a sight of ’imself for
gnittg there. 'l’ll mebbe stay at Cheve
*y, says he, 'so you needn't order din
hef for me just yet. I’d like to see the
landlord,’ says he, ‘and pretty quick.' ”
Why. you great fool, you never told
me. said Parker, resentfully. He was
not a very genial host; he was a trifle
,morose at times and not communica
w're; but he was always attentive to
the wishes of his customers. He went
at once and knocked at th*
oor of the little sitting room Into
Which the visitor had been shown.
Cotne In, coma in,” said a loud, bluff
Voice. “Come in; no ceremony. You’re
landlord, eh? Let’s have a drink,
and soda, eh?”
Mr. Parker bowed and ordered the
“tjuors. it struck him that the stranger
JT M s trifle too familiar for a friend of
Airedales. Who could he be?
Parker had led the lable on the vls
lflw r '" luggage; but It told him nothing.
"Mr. Zaekary N. Brambleby, Esquire,
I* ** Chicago, Airedale Castle, Un-
Werwood, England." It was a quaint
[inscription, and Parker gaped at its
< , r> ' obv ‘°us errors.
' "There ain’t no Airedale Castle that
hi** of,” he if row led to him
[ P’raps he*s corrm to the wr.n:;
j, diesH. Maybe he’s oye o' them r:<*
|^' ar,H /ne tu-arg of. N<*t many o'
** m up rVevMey vay. I lek *l* An<’
\’o n ••* • v. n h .to :Y-‘ 1
MtJl t'' ,h * 'nghedlent* tor tofldr •
~e l*equered tr*.
THE CITIZEN.
Zachary N. Brambleby, If that were
his name, was a broad-shouldered,
stout man, fairly tall, very florid, gray
whiskered and blue-eyed. He was
dressed In well-fitting black clothes,
his linen was spotless, the gold chain
that undulated across his portly frame
was singularly heavy, and the dia
monds in his rings were genuine as
well as large. From the top of his well
brushed gray hair to the tip of his pol
i ished boots he looked rich and respect
able. There was a little too much
! swagger and self-satisfaction about
him for the ordinary British merchant;
and, indeed, when he opened his lips
j the ear was assailed by an unmistak
ably Yankee twang. In build and com
plexion he was not unlike Parker him
self; If Parker had been a little bigger
, and more genial he might have passed
as Mr. Brambleby's brother. It was an
English, not an American type.
“Sit down, landlord,” said Mr. Brain
bleby. “Let’s see what sort of stuff
you’ve got here. Not bad—not bad at
all. Now, how long have you been
landlord of this little inn. eh?”
“I’ve had the Airedale Arms for a
matter of twenty year.” said Park* •.
rather sulkily, “and 1 think, sir, you'll
find It a comfortable sort of place."
"Oh, I dare say, I dare say. Hut T
ain’t going to stay here, my good man:
It's all very well for this side o' t e
water, but a country village is not the
place for me. No, sir. Brtish born a-
I was, I am now a free, independent,
respected American citizen; and 1 de
spise your one-hoss village ale houses;
I despise them all.”
‘Then, excuse me, sir, I wonder you
come to them,” said Parker, with a
touch of temper, which was not to be
| wondered at.
"I don’t come to stay, landlord; 1
| don’t come to stay. I'm going on to
! Airedale Castle straight away.”
“There Isn’t such a place in the i
neighborhood," said Mr. Parker, with
some inner satisfaction.
“Eh? No Airedale Castle? Then I’ve
i been misinformed. Don’t the Airedales
j live about here?” There was a decided
change of manner in the man as he
asked this question. It seemed almost
as If he had been acting a part during
the earlier part of the interview.
"His lordship, the Earl of Airdale,
and her ladyship, the Countess of Aire
dale, occupy the manson of Cheveley
in the Immediate neighborhood of Un
derwood,” said Mr. Parker in his
; grandest, tones.
"And there’s no other Lord and Lady
' Airedale in the country, is there?”
asked the stranger.
i "No, sir. Her ladyship, the dowager
countess, died thirteen years ago,"
“Well, you do lay It on thick in your
blessed old country with your lordships
j and ladyships,” said Mr. Brambleby, j
! good-humoredly. "Look here, old man, j
what sort of a lady is Lady Airedale’ 1
Stifflsh, stuck up a bit, or affable and
friendly'.”'
"Her ladyship’s a most affable lady,”
said Parker, “and most benevolent to
the poor. Very kind to her servants,
too, and to them that are in want. Her
ladyship is very much beloved."
"Is she, now?" said the stranger with
interest. “And his lordship, is he fond
of her? Does the stepson behave de
cently to her? She's got two girls of
her own. I hear.”
Parker's hair began to rise on his
head with horror.
"Do you mean my Lord Sunning, sir?
I have always heard that he was most
attached to Lady Airedale anti very
grateful to her for all her care. My
lord himself, the earl, sir, simply wor
ships the ground she treads on. And
two more loving young ladies than
Lady Lillian and Lady Ellinor couldn’t
be found; nty wife’s niece was maid
there once, and she tells me It’s beauti
fy to see them."
Mr. Brambleby’s face beamed with
satisfaction. “Like a picture to think of,
ain’t it?" he said complacently. “Now
who would be such a fool as to try
to disturb that bliss? Not Zachary N.
Brambleby, thank the Lord. I’m not
made of such stuff as that. I’ll just
go up to the house and say how d’ye
do to my lady, and then I’ll go back to
America."
“To see my lady, sir?" repeated Mr.
Parker, rubbblng his chin.
“Aye. old man, to see my lady. Why
not? Oh, you think I’m a bit below
them, do you? I can tell you one thing,
though. I’m a relation ” He paused,
:i if afraid to commit himself to any
thing further.
“A relation —to my lady?” said the
landlord, opening hia rather dull and
, t v, eyes.
• v ■*, r ! i in-a near relation—a
~ u i.ige. anyway!” And
'ebv roared out a sud
if .he Idea were more I
", V, I,; r-mixed at first |
...... won’t lie able to m
t Parker, after a
* !i you go up to
Cheveley; for I supposa’’—almoat with
a sneer— "that you mean to go.”
"Of course I mean to go; what s
more, I mean to stay there* I'm going
FREDERICK CITY, MD„ FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH 1 1595
w oe L<ora Airedale’s guest for a few
days, I can tell you.”
But." said Mr. Parker dryly, "they’rs
not entertaining visitors just at present
•■* Cheveley. Lady Airedale is seriously
He had produced an impression at
last. Mr. Brambleby’a Jaw suddenly
fell, his color grew more purple than
florid, and his hand shook as he put
down the whisky.
•Seriously?” he asked.
| “ lta an Hlness of long standing.
•She s had all the best London doctors,
j and gone about from one place to an-
I other in search of health, but all to no
j purpose. Better keep at home, I always
j think. And I’m afraid this is the last
of it. They say she’s dying fast.”
I _ "Good Lord!” gasped Mr. Brambleby.
! But it can’t be true. When I’ve come
| all the way over from America, just to
| apeak to her—l’ll go up to the Casiie
J this very night and see.”
"Oh, no, sir; no, sir. That would
never do. I’m afraid,” said Parker,
with a shake of the head and a littlo
smile. "Why, it’s close on their dinner
time; and besides, my lady will have
gone to sleep maybe; you can’t go a;
that hour unless you’ve got an invita-
I tion, or they're expecting you."
j "Wft]l, no. they ain’t exactly expect*
j ing me,” said Brambleby, with a queer
little laugh. "I should startle them
considerable, that's a fact. I surmise
I’ll take your advice, Mr. Landlord, and
slerp here to-night. Then I can walk
up to the earl’s palatial halls to-mor
row morning.”
He made the allusion to Cheveley In
1 what Parker took to be a sneering
tone, and the landlord withdrew, feel-
I lng somewhat offended with his guest.
"He isn’t a gentleman, not a bit of It,
though he does wear diamond rings,”
he said to Mary when he reached the
safe seclusion of the bar; "he’s a com
mercial gent, I fancy, or one of those
pig-dealers from Chicago that one
reads about in the papers. But he did
look cast down all of a sudden when h?
heard that my lady was so bad; he
turned purple about the gills and
chalky-white, I can tell you."
"Nobody knows much about my
lady," said Mary, who was sitting at
her work behind the bar, no customers
being present. “Perhaps he is one of
her relations—who's made a fortune In
America.”
"Let’s hope so," said the landlord,
gloomily; but he thrust out his lips and
i shook his head as if he did not antici
pate so satisfactory an explanation of
Mr. Brambleby’s visit to Cheveley.
But death was already at the Earl of
Airedale’s door, an earlier visitor than
even Mr. Brambleby, who had pur
posed to call betimes. The eounless
died as the early dawn came stealing
in, at three o’clock in the morning, and
the news reached the Airedale Arms
before six. But the landlord refused to
let the guest be told. "He said he'd
have his 'ot water at eight,” said
Parker, obstinately. "And at eight
o’clock he'll hear the bell toll, and Jim
can tell him who it is, and nobody
need disturb him till then. I believe
It's all gammon that he's a relaiion of
her ladyship. He looks like a countess'
brother, or cousin, or something, don’t
he?” Mr. Parker was waxing quite
sarcastic in his repudiation of the idea.
Mr. Brambleby, however, not know
ing what had happened, awoke at five
o'clock, and felt too restless and over
heated to sleep any longer. He rose
about six, dressed himself leisurely,
and descended the stairs. There was
only one entrance to the Airedale Arms,
and that was through the bar. Th*
door stood wide open, but the bar and
the entrance hall were deserted, for the
landlord and his satellites were dis
cussing the recent news in the back
yard, and consequently Mr. Brambleb>
passed out of the house unnoticed. The
clock struck seven as he left the inn,
and he took, as if by instinct, the road
that led bin. straight to Cheveley park
j gates.
| The woman at the lodge only curte
i eied as he passed by. She took him
for somebody from the neighboring
town of Pairoaks. The undertaker, or
perhaps the registrar. Mr. Brambleby
could not see the house at first, for the
ground rose between it and the gate;
but gradually, as he ascended a wide
gravelled road, he came to a spot from
which he obtained a good view of the
stately stone building, with its mui
ltoned windows, its fine terrace, its sol
emn-looking cedar trees. The windows
were ail curtained, but Mr. Brambleby
attributed this fact to the earliness of
his visit to the park and the laziness of
the countess' paupered menials. "It’s
& fine spot," lie murmured to himself.
| w ith his fingers stuck in his waistcoat
j pockets and his hat tilted a very little
to the back of his head, "and I must
say that Aminty's done well for her
self. I don't mean to Interfere with
her, not I.”
He wandered about the park a little
while longer, and came at last to a
light wire fence, which divided (he
grassy slopes from the flower garden.
Here he stood still. He was close to
the celebrated lily beds of the Aire
dale ladies; and moving from one plot
to another, with slow and noiseless
footstep, he saw the figure of a girl in
white. It was a slender, graceful fig
ure, tn a plain cambric frock, with a
black ribbon at the waist, and as Mr.
Brambleby gazed he gasped out the
words;
"Aminty. by Jove'.”
Hearing a Bound, the girl turned and
looked at him. Then he saw that sh=
was not the woman of whom he was In
search. She was younger and she was
—yes, perhaps she was—more beauti
ful She had dark eyes, a pale but
clear complexion, a stateliness of mein
such as almost alarmed him. But in a
moment or two he recovered Ills self
possession, and said to himself, Am-
Inty’s daughter, I suppose?"
Then he took off his hat with a
flourish, made a low bow. and ad
vanced a step nearer to the fence. The
girl, who had been gathering liilics
and laying them one by one in a long,
shallow basket, drew baek. Her eyes
expressed surprise, but no alarm; and
it was plain, as Mr. Brambleby now
remarked, that she hud been w’eeping
bitterly. Perhaps the consciousness of
a real sorrow blunted her perceptions,
but, indeed. Mr. Brambleby's highly
respectable appearance, his red face,
grey side-whiskers, black clothes and
tine gold chain, did not lead one I# con
jecture that he was a member of the
swell-mob or anything else objection
able. Lady Lillian was not, however,
accustomed to being spoken to by ln
-1 discriminate atrangera, and she might
| well look surprised.
"I beg your pardon, miss — my lady,
said Mr. Brambleby, "but I’ve come all
the way from Chicago to make your
acquaintance, and to see your mam
ma.”
"To see—” Lady Lillian’s face Hustl
ed scarlet. Bbe could net ■ finish the
sentence.
I
miss, to see your mamma.
A-mlnty Jones, she was. And I’m a
connection o£ hers—a near relation.
One of the nearset she’s got, I lay."
And Mr. Brambleby chuckled. “And I
want to speak to her. No offense, miss;
it won’t do no harm to recognize an
old friend, even if he did happen once
to be a pork butcher.”
Lillian Jtad been backing for a min
ute or two, as if she wanted to get as
far away from this extraordinary per
son as possible, but she now found her
self arrested by the branches of a
standard rose-tree, and was obliged to i
stop. Mr. Bra mb' by would have gone
I on again, but she interrupted him with
a low cry of pain.
"Oh, please stop,” she said, "of course
you do not know—you are a stranger
here but my dear mother died this
morning at three o’clock. I am gather
ing these lilies to put beside her.” And
she turned aside as if to pluck another
blossom, but in reality to check the
using tears. could not bear to
weep before a stranger—even for her
mother.
Mr. Brambleby brought down his
| hand on his thigh with a resounding
slap.
t . r^* r " u all! ” h e cried. "Aminty
[ dead. Dead! And me come al! tin j
j wa >' to the old country to see her! Well, !
[ | ' hat d 0 heat everything! If It hadn’t j
i been for that blessed old fool at the Inn. !
I should have come on last night, and
then I should ha’ been in time for a
word with her.”
"My mother would not have been able I
‘ to see you,” said Lillian, coldly. “She
’ was very weak. If you were a friend
of her’s”—which she did not believe—
"l am sorry you did not come sooner.
| Good morning.”
She bowed her dainty head, and was
about to move slowly, but decidedly
a,way, when a shout from Mr. Bramb
leby stopped her. "Hullo! Hold on!
' I’ll walk up with you to the house."
Then moderating his voice, and put- j
ting one big leg carefully over the big ]
' wire fence; ”If I don't see her living. 1
1 I'll see her dead. I’m bound to look at
her face once more.”
"Sir!" said Lady Lillian, haughtily,
! "your presence is an intrusion."
[ i "All right, my dear; no offence,” re- I
J turned Mr. Brambleby, panting a lit- j
1 tie with the efforts to get over the j
j fence and overtake the young lady, |
; j who now walking swiftly towards ;
‘ the house. “You can't deny me, you
• j know; I've the right; you don't want ;
I to make a scandal; you just let me I
i speak to your papa, and he'll see the |
j tights of it.”
1 i The short sentences, bolted out one j
j after another, produced some effect on j
1 j Lady Lillian, who in the midst of her '
• j grief was very reasonable. "I suppos * |
‘ 1 had belter let him come to tlv
' | house,” she reflected, “and tell poor
' j papa about him. I don’t like to threat- |
| en him with the servants, he looks so
1 I very determined. Besides, it would pot |
be nice for him to talk to them about |
1 | niy dear mother as he Is talking to me. :
j A friend of hers, Indeed! How dare j
| i he?” And Lady Lillian curled her lip |
’ | disdainfully, even while th hot tears j
started to her eyes at the Idea.
1 It was with scant courtesy that she
turned at last to the flushed and per
■ j spiring Mr. Brambleby, who was toil
■ j ing up the rising pathway at her side.
’ |"I will take you into the library,” she
■ | said, “and ask my father if he will
‘ | speak to you; but of course he is very j
i much overcome, and is not at all likely
! ito be able to do so.”
j Mr. Brambleby nodded, quite unitn
-1 | pressed by the severity of the young
j lady’s tones. He was thinking that
j when once he had got into the house It t
| would be difficult to get him out again 1
I until his object was attained. He fol
| lowed Lady Lillian’s footsteps, there- j
j fore, with submission.
She ascended a flight of steps leading
to the terrace, walked down the terrace
a little way, and then opened a glass
door which led into the room of which
she had spoken. Here she bade
Mr. Brambleby remain. She did not
even ask him to take a chair; but Mr.
Brambleby not being troubled by shy
ness, sat down and gazed about him
with admiration and delight.
“To think now,” he said to himself,
"of all this belonging to Aminty! I’m
glad I’ve seen it—that I am. It does
credit to old England and a bloated
| aristocracy after all. sir! A pity she
, had to go and leave it, but she was
i always frail and sickly, was Amintyf
| Poor Aminty! Poor little girl!”
He rubbed his forehead with a gorge
\ ous silk handkerchief and looked up
' and down the room. The ceiling was
painted with nymphs and dryads in a
' style which lie fell that he did not un
derstand. The walls were lined with
rows of richly bound volumes: the very
chairs were works of art, carved oak
and antique; the carpet and rugs were
softer than velvet and full of rich and
harmonious coloring. The blinds, of
rourse, were down, but Mr. Brambleby
could see that old heraldic devices were
painted on the lozenge-shaped panes,
and that Ihe velvet hangings of each
window recess were of those exquisite
shades which only a splendid old age
i can give. The Chicago pork butcher
was no doubt a Philistine at heart, and j
would have preferred ormolu and erlm- ;
son sal in for his own apartments; but
he was not unmoved by the beauty of
his surroundings, at which he was still
staring open-mouthed when Lord Aire
dale came quietly into the room.
The Karl was not a very tall man,
| nor perhaps a very handsome one; but
his appearance was undoubtedly im
posing. We in Underwood village al
ways spoke of him as an aristocratic
looking man. He had snow-white hair
—very little of it—a slight amount of
whisker, an aquiline nose, thin lips and
steel-gray eyes. He was not perhaps
very clever, but he was reputed one of
the most honorable and conscientious
of English gentlemen—no light praise,
I surely, even In these leveling times.
I The thoroughbred air S" characteristic
1 of his daughter was apparent in every
line of his features, every movement of
his erect little figure. Even his late
vigil, his grief, his long fast—for he
had forgotten to touch food In hts anxi
ety, since the previous day’s luncheon
hour, had not ruffled his outward de
meanor; he was as composed, as tran
quil, as outwardly neat as on any or
dinary occasion. But his old eyes were
heavy and their rims were red.
"My daughter informs me, sir,” said
Lord Airedale, "that you were a friend
Lary Airedale's. Any friend of Lady
Airedale's is welcome here.” The Karl ;
probably knew mors of hlo wife's con
nections than Lillian did. "You have '
heaid, I think, that you are too late to i
see her again. If you hud any news to I ,
Impart—" f ,
The Bari paused: he felt consrioua of |
some peculiarity In Mr. Brambleby's <,
gaze. The visitor was Inspecting him , j
from top to toe, as If trying to appraise ,
him at his full value. When the JBmI l ;
stopped Mr. Brambleby nodded. I ■
I
mat's so," he said. "I don’t know
that I had any news—not any of im
portance. so to speak. But as to be
ing too late to see her again, my lord,
see her again I must."
"See her —now?” said Lord Airedale.
The more he looked at the man, the
more reluctant he felt to harbor the
idea that this vulgar, red-faced Ameri
can bore any relationship to his wife.
And to let him gaze upon her—dead,
would be an insult to the woman that
he had loved. "But—l fear—may I ask
whether you were—h’m—connected
with Lady Airedale in any way?”
”f was connected with her pretty con- 1
sid'able," said Mr. Brambleby, plung
ing his hands deep into his pockets, |
and staring very hard at Lord Aire- j
dale. “Yes, r know Aminty right down
well. No offence. I hope? She’s prob- j
ably mentioned my name to vou— !
Brambleby? Brambleby, of Chicago: j
pork."
Lord Airedale started and changed j
color. ”1 understand,” he said. “You
are a relation of her—her first hus- j
band, and you were. In fact, on friend
ly terms with her. But of course that
does not justify—l don't know what
you do in America, sir, but in England
we do not make a show of our dead. I
; think you must excuse me—”
"But I ain't going to excuse you," <
I said Brambleby, firmly. "I don’t say j
■ but it’s natural in you to be so per- j
nlekity about it; but under present !
circumstances, I can’t allow it. I’ve
come t’ see Aminty, and, alive or dead,
Aminty I must see.’
"I tell you, sir—”
"It's no good telling me anything,"
said the pork butcher, his voice grow
ing louder, and his deeply dyed face
more darkly red. ‘T've the right t’ see
her, and I will!”
‘‘What right can you—”
Lord Airedale did not finish his sent
ence, because of a sound that he heard
behind him. A young man, of very
frank and pleasing exterior, had opened !
| the door and entered the room. Lord j
Airedale put out his hand as if to stop
him. He did not want his daughter !
Lillian's lover, the Marquis of Silver- |
town, that eminently eligible young j
j man, to join in this discussion. But :
i he was too late.
"Lillian sent me,” said Silvertoiwn,
, quietly. “She thought you might want
i me. Would you like to go to breakfast
now, while I—entertain—this gentle- !
man?”
"Silvertown.” said the Earl, turning
almost piteously to his future son-in
j law, "explain to him—you can explain !
better than I lie is a r li ion of my |
| dear wife's tirst husband, and he wan is !
;to sec her now—l ask what right h j
| has to Intrude!"
"Every right,” repl'e t Mr. Bramblb
stand ng erect, with his face the cob
of a poppy. He had ev denily workf
! himsoif Into a towering rage. "Ever
! right in the world! Whal right have I j
j Why, I’m her husband, sir; she wa
my wife before she was yours!"
If ever a man’s bodily security wa: j
j imperilled Mr. Brambleby had Imper
| tiled his own. P!!v 'l'lown. being a man '
i of hasty temper, made a sudden dash
I at him, with the intention of kicking
; him out of the room; but Lord Aire
dale, though trembling very much, laid
a restraining hand upon the young
man's arm.
"Walt a moment. Geffrey, stop a
> moment; we must hear the man out i
j now. This is not the time for unseem- j
! ly altercation.”
"But it’s a lie!” cried Silvertown, j
j hotly. “It’s a lie!"
Mr. Brambleby stood his ground with
undiminished self-importance.
"It’s no lie.” he said, doggedly. "It’s
| gospel truth. Aminty Jones married |
| me In Louisville four and twenty years i
! Sffo. Then I was knocked on the head
tn a scuffle, and folks told her I was
dead. Well, she went away from the
town, and I could never find her again.
Heard she went to England, and the
ship was lost. I surmise that she was
not lost, sir. and (hat she met this Eng
lish lord somewhere or other and mar
ried him. believing that I was dead. 1
don’t blame her. Who could? 1
thought she was dead, too; though 1
always kept my eyes and ears open on
the chance of finding her again. A
month ago a chap showed me one o'
your society papers, with some remarks
on American gals, and a list o’ those
who had married British lords. And
there I saw that Aminty Jones, relict
of Zachary N. Brambleby, had mar
ried the Earl of Airedale. Well, I’m
Zachary N. Brambleby anyway. Plenty
of pfople’ll swear to that. Here’s my
business • ard. And here" -producing a
bloated pockelbook, and beginning to
turn out the contents—"here’s a photty- j
graph of her. and letters, and the mar- |
riage certificate, and ”
“There is no need to continue this
conversation, sir," said Lord Airedale,
with tremulous dignity. "If your story
Is true, and if you have come prepared
to prove It. the details had better be
left to another time."
“Why!” roared Mr. Brambleby, for
once genuinely astonished, "you don’t
think this yer’s all a He, do you?”
For a minute both men were startled.
Lord Airedale had sunk Into a chair,
and Silvertown was leaning over him
and pressing Ids shoulder affectionate
ly. But neither of them spake.
"What should I come all this way for
If it weren’t true?” said the American.
"I don’t want anything from you, Lord
Airedale, and I didn't want anything
form Aminty. It was rather the other
way. I’ve made my pile, I have, and I
foeerd tell that some of the British lords
was oneommon poor. My idea was to |
see Aminty and make sure it was her,
and ask her if I could do anything for '
her or her children, and then —scoot. 1 j
didn’t mean to tell his lordship any
thing about it. Get Introduced to hitn
as a. friend of the fam’ly, maybe,
and ”
"But you never surely thought that
Lady Airedale would keep me In ignor
ance of the truth, If she recognized
you?" said the Earl sharply.
“Why not, sir? She’s free of me and
I of her; seven years’ separation makes
any man or woman free to marry
again, don’t It?"
"No," said Silvertown. "That’s a mis
take made sometimes by the—the peo
ple. You don’t mean to say you believe
It?”
"Yes, I do. sir,” replter Brambleby.
looking up and down. "And who are
yon that denies 11T"
"I'm going to marry i.ady Lillian—
ply name's Sllertown,” said the young
man hotly, "and if you think that you,
With this precious story of yours, can
destroy her position In the world and
blast the happiness of our home, you
are mistaken. When Lillian's my wife,
aa I hope she will be directly, If I ever
hear a word of this affair from any
man I’ll horsewhip him first and shoot
Mm afterwards.”
"But, good Lord, my man,” said Mr.
Bramhleby, gaming, "I don’t mean any
harm ts Lady Lillian or any of ’em. I
took it for granted that Aminty's sec
ond marriage was legal enough. I
didn't mean to mention it for fesor of
hurting anyone's feelings, me being
only a common, rough sort of a chap:
but as for injuring anybody—why. blest
if I know what you mean."
"It means," said Lord Airt-dale quiet
ly. though his face was white to the
lips, "that if my marriage was illegal,
my two daughters have no claim to !
their present name or position, for thev ;
would be—illegitimate."
There was a little silence. Then Mr.
Brambleby, with rather uncertain lin
gers, gathered up his papers and put j
them in his pocket, felt for his hat, and
looked longingly at the door. "Is that |
so?” he said. "I didn’t understand the j
law in this here old country of yours. !
I think I’ll wish you good morning,
gentlemen. I haven’t anything more to j
say."
This sudden collapse took both Lord j
Airedale and the young Marquis by |
surprise. The latter seized Brambleby
by the arm. “Come back,” he said, in ;
great excitement; "you mustn’t go like I
that. Tou must tell us what you mean ;
to do. What steps are vou going to
take?"
Brambleby looked at him in silence j
fora moment, in a sadness not without !
dignity. "I'll thank you to let go ot j
my arm, young man,” he said. “I :
don’ know what you mean by step", j
I'm Just going straight back to Amor- !
lea. I had no intention of causing trou- i
ble in the family, least of all to the I
pretty girl I saw in the garden just j
now, though she might have treated i
me a bit more civil. But she's just Ike |
Aminty, as my lord can tell you if ite 1
likes. I didn’t rightly know that my
being alive would make such a differ- |
ence to Aminty’s gals. T meant Just to I
say to her, ‘Wal, Aminty, I'm glad !
you've done so well for yourself, and I I
hope the British aristocrats behave po- i
ltte to you. If there's anything you i
wiant doing, just let me know and I'll |
do It.’ And then I should have taken i
myself off, without a word to his lord- j
sliip, unless I'd been asked to stay, '
reg'lar, as a friend of the family ”
"But would you hive allowed a wo- j
| man to commit bigamy?" cried Lord
Airedale with sudden vehemence.
Brambleby shook his big head.
"I had a wife and family for seven |
years out in Chicago,” he said, meekly. |
‘I thought Aminty was dead, you see.
My folks all died of yellow fever one
summer, and that made me think more
about Aminty. I’ve made my pile, and
if you’ll allow me, sir, I'd like to leave
it all to those two gals. As a family
I friend—a cousin of Aminty's first hus
| band, let us say—l shall hold my
j tongue, never you fear: and the gets
j will be all right. P’raps It’s Just as
I well that poor Aminty is gone, for she !
■ might have felt troubled in her mind if
j she’d known that 1 was alive."
"Mr. Brambleby," said Lord Aire
dale, rising, "if you would like to sea
her—now ”
I "Well, thank ye. my lord, I think I’d
rather not. It was just your opposi
tion* that made me so set on it, you see.
And I dare say she looks different now
from what I remember her. You see,
when I saw her last she looked like the
young girl in the garden—and that's a
long time ago. I think I prefer to re
member her like that. But I’d like to
thank you for taking good care of tny
j poor Aminly."
He had got out his red handkerchief
as lie spoke, and was openly wiping
: his eyes. Lord Airedale took the hard,
I toil-worn hand that was held out to
him, and pressed it warmly, and Sil- j
i vertotA, after a moment's hesitation,
did the same.
j "Is it possible that the man’s story I
| can be true," the Marquis ventured to !
whisper, when the front door had j
closed and Mr. Brambleby's broad 1
back was seen retreating down the
avenue.
"True?" said Lord Airedale, dream- i
ily. “Oh. yes; it was all true. I re- ]
membered his face when he began lo j
talk. My wife had a portrait of him, |
and the features came back to me. j
She always said that he was an honest
man. Don't tell Lillian, Geoffrey."
“No. no: not a word to her. But if j
all the world knew, It should make no
difference to me.”
“I know. You are a man of honor, !
Silvertown. But Brambleby has prom- [
lsed to be silent, and he will keep his i
word. Brambleby is a man of honor, I
too.”
He was right. Mr. Brambleby went [
back to Chicago three days later, and !
the world never knew the real reason
why Lord Airedale's daughters were
enriched before very long by a legacy
of fifty thousand pounds by a man
who named hlntself, In dying, as "one
of their mother’s oldest friends.”
But that is the true story of Lady j
Airedale's last visitor.—By Adeline j
Sargent.
NKW YORK SUN SUNBEAMS.
”1 am frequently struck with the way
the words 'woman' and 'lady' have
changed places." said a gentlewoman.
"It is difficult to Imagine circumstances
in which I would describe myself
other than as a woman, but my cook
came home after an adventure in a
railway accident the other day and
said: 'I was the only lady in tiie
car.’ ”
At the recent sale of the library of j
Edmund Yates the writing desk used |
by Charles Dickens when he died, and j
presented to Yates by the family, was !
sold for {525. The original letters of
Dickens to Yates brought $430, and
Yates' collection of autographs $325.
The books, which Included first edi
tions of Dickens and of Thackaray,
brought only fair prices, though a
presentation copy of the first edition
of “A Tale of Two Cities" was sold for
167.
Far southern domestic arrangements
airproach in some aspects those of the
East Indies. There is a host of low
paid servants, each with a small spe
cialty, and many of them living at
their own miserable homes. Nothing
is accomplished save by strenuous In
sistence on tin part of the mlstre'4,
and all |>r •i •.: t uneunsunn-d and
ifOt 1 ' 'be. I I . lie |{f J II I te the S‘ V
er;i|
Hogs lu the Golf billies.
While there has always been a large 1
consumption of hog products In the
south, the supply has hitherto been
chiefly brought from the north and
west. It is now proposed to overcome
the obstacle which the warm climate
af that section presents by the intro
duction of cold storage facilities and
to establish there a pork-packing house
which will stimulate the raising of
hogs in the gulf states. The scheme
would appear to be perfectly feasible,
as the soil Is admirably adapted to the
faising of corn, and a rapid increase in
the hog crop of that section may bg
confidently looked for.
all the news,
1
• • • COUNTRY,
COUNTY, = . . CITY.
1 *
Arrival and 3) parture of Trains,
©Schedule In Effect Nov.
LEAVE FREDERICK
5:45 A. M„ daily, for lla 1
Umore, < uin Borland
Philadelphia and New
tV! rk ; Mlld Sui " for Lexington
ftmiu lv * te r. and way Matlou*.
o.OU A. M., daily, tor Washington and sta
tions, Philaaelidilaaml N. w York.
8K A. M. t except .Sunday, for Baltimore *nd
princhial way stations, Ph Hade loh in and
New iork.
JOHa A. M except Sunday, for Washington,
1 hiladrlphia, Now \ork, Keyser, Lex mg*
, ,nn j Hnge'stown and way stations, Chicago
and Pittshnig. •
1:15 r. M., except Sunday, for Baltimore mid
■ *’•" adelphla and New York.
-:*> *■ V • ''*eept ' Hilda\. tor llitriier s Ferry.
Murltishuig. t'uiiit crland, t tneuiiiuti and
l M M'li n, Washington, Philadelphia and
New \ ork.
1:00 I'. M., Sunday only, for Washington and
Wesl S,#,l °"*’ Sl , ' ouis Llilcag.i and tho
l\ M., dally, for Baltimore mid way sta
, '’ll 11 *. 1 hlladelphiH ,md New York
o- 1 1 . M., except Sunday,for Washington, Ha
r*’own, Winchester and way stations,
1 ittsburg. t'hicag' , Philadelphia and New
i ork.
ARRIVE at FREDERICK
6:50 A - M„ except Sunday, from Baltimore and
way stations.
B:HS a. M., except Sunday, from Wltiel ester
Hagerstown, Martini-burg. Pittsburg. St
Louts. Cincinnati am the West.
I U:i > M., except Sunday, from Baltimore.
New York an. Philadelphia.
11:3" A. M„ Sunday only, ftom Washington
Mini way Malions, si, I/ouis.i hiunuo and the
West.
j 12:20 P. M„Sunday only, from Baltimore and
wm' stations.
I:SU M except Sunday, from Philadelphia,
W iishlngton, 1 iedniont, Hagerstown, I,ex-
Ington, Keyser and way stations, CUictn
! j Louis and ( liicago.
<:4.5 l M , Sunday only, from Washington
j and Way stations. 8
i ® :6 La e ?“l* Bund '*y, from Baltimore
and way stations
j 8:45 l> : M„ except Sunday, from Washington
and way stations, l’liila clphla and New
1 u r ' V, rk ;, 1 ‘""burg and t liicago.
| |'|,"J '* osoept Sunday, from Baltimore,
:1' llndelplila and New S’ork
7:45 I’. M.,except Sunday from (Tunberlnu I,
n*J. o ’V rBA Lexington, Page stown,
,! S V ', V < A' V-' Gutious auil Wuslilngton.
j S stations’ rtn y ’ from hnltlmore and way
' WESTERN MARYLAND RAILROAD.
taking ettect Sunday, November’ntli ism
j Leave Hilleu station us follows: * ’ ’
daily.
4.10 A. M.—Fast Mall for Shenandoah Valley
and Southern and Southwestern points,
also Uljniion. Westminster, New Wlnd
sor l idon Bridge, Meetmniestown, Blue
Ridge, Hlghfield, Hagerstown, anil ex
cept Sunday, Chnmbersburg, Waynes
boro , points on B. and P. V.R. R Mar
tlnsburg, W . \ a., and Winchester. Va.
DAILY EXCEPT SUNDAY.
| 7.15 A M.—Accommodation for Ueltysbuig
and all points on B. amt H. Div, and
Sin c “ Kt , of Emory Grove, Mt.
I „ t io lP hprings and Carlisle.
9ilO A. M.—Mail for Williamsport, llagers
t wn, Shtpiionsliurg and |Kiiuts on Main
me ami B. and C. V. B. R.,also Fred
; crick an Emmitsburg.
, 11.00 A M.—Accommodation for, Union Bridge
Gettysburg Mt. Holly Springs and Pur-’
12.00 A.M.—Accommodation for Arlington,
i *,*' 'V, •—-M'Odnunodation for Emory Grove.
'o?i'T?^ pre ? 8 f ' > . r 1 „ A #"ln, Howards
vilte, i >wings s .Mills Glymlon and at
points on B. and H. Division
4.00 P M.-Express tor Ariingtor Mt. Hope,
I IkesvUle, Green Spring .Irnetion, Gw-
H Mills, s t. GeorgeUl.\ndon. Glen
{•alls, FinkKhurg, Patapsco, Carrollton,
Westminster, Avondale, Me. lotd, New
>\ imlsor and Main Line Stations West*
also Lmmltaburg ami B. and C. V. K. H *
South l,UlOUh Vu,,ey K ‘ R * and l*>iuU
!*.55 !’ JJ •—Aceommodation for Emory Grove
!•£ J - M.—Acoonimodation for Union Bridge
1.35 P. M.—A.vommodatlon for Emory Grove.
SUNDAY'S GNLY.
Accommodation.—B2lo A M. for Union Bridge
and Hanover.
2-30 P. M.—Accommodation for Union Bridge
i ,X'29 M—Accommodation for Emory Grov*.
10.0.> 1. M.—A eei in urn slat ion for Emory Grove
TRAINS ARRIVE AT lIILLEN.
Daily—6.2S P. M.—Dully (except Sunday) 8 50
7j.40j8.42, 11 .10 A. M. 12.12, i.lO,Mi
Snudayso’nly— 9.07,10.20 A. M.and6.l6and 9.10
Ticket and Baggage Office 205 List Baltimore
street.
All trains stop at Union Station, Pennsylvania
Avenue and Fulton Stations.
PEN NS YLVAN 1A RAILROAD— FBEDER
ICK DIVISION.
I
Sciiepplk in Efkrct Novkwiikii 2th, 1894.
- "1 Stops only on notice lo conductor or
i agent, or on signal.
! Fob Piiii.xPF.M'HiA andtjikEaht.
- WBKK PAYS
Lillis liantolu-
NOIITMWABII. t.wn York ever tnbla
F.xj>. Aeeo .Mail Ace Exp.
; a. in. a. m. 's. m. p. in p. m.
1 Frederick ... l.v 7.0(1 oo
Walkersvllle 7.16,"!! J 5
Woodsboro : 7.j£7 33$
Bruceviile '. 7.1 t . 3*4,5
1.-u.-ytown 7->7 3.6*
Ltttleslown <l.lO 8 15 4.17
Hanover 0.25 BXS 24 0 488
Iron Ridge f 5.49 , o 47 f 4.42
Spring Grove... 038 s.MI 2.,55 4,50
West York. .f,s 9.15 S 1.5 f 519
York.. 7.05 7.50 9.25 3.25 .5 15
I Hlestand f .7.59 I 9,3.3 1 3 33 f 524
Campbell 1 8.05-4 9.33 rs 39 t 5.30
Helium 80s irtl 3.42 5.38
| Strop r 1 8.12 f 9.43 f 340 f 5.37
W rlghtsvlllc 7.27 8.20 1151 3 5.5 6.45
(Mlnntbla ...Ar. 7.3.1 830 10.00 4.05 655
I lancasler 800 9.08 10.25 4335 645
Philadelphia... 10 20 11.16 12.17 0.50 9.45
*• m. h. m p. m p. in p. in
A through car to Philadelphia Is run on train
leaving York at 7.05 A. M .
, WEEK DAYS
1 Han I. title
Horn'llwaiip. News over Yorkjtown,
Exp. Aec. Mail Acc. Kxp.
a. in. a. lit. p. in p. 111. p. 111.
! Philadelphia,!—!* 480 8.50 12.25 2.41> 440
I Lancaster 6.35 11.00 235 6 30. 640
1 Columbia 710 11.30 305 *o.is 795
Wrlghtsvlllo 7.20 11 .:ts 3.13 028 7.18
Stoner f 728 f 11.43 f 8.20 f 6a !
Hehnm 7.32 1140 8.24 8 42:
Camphell f 731 fit 18i(3.27 r 444
Hlestand 1 737 f 11.58 t'3.31 f 50
York 7.’58 12.00 346 7.901 7.36
West York 8.08 12.06 3,50 740
Spring Grove-.. 82: 12.25 4.10 803
Iron Ridge i 8.32 fl‘2 32 14 18 I B.la
Hanover. 848 12.44 182 ... 820
LlUlestown- 9.06 4,52 8.85
Tsmytown. ' 925 6.15 L
Brucevdle 9 40 5.40
Woodsboro..... 9,58 5.58
Walkersvllle 1008 605 1
Frederick Ar 10.25 0.'.0 |
a. ni. p nip, m p. m p. m.
Trains leave Hanover for Gettysl.iirg at 9.48
a. m., 12,46 and 5.31 p. in. week days;returning
arrive at Hanover from Gettysburg 4.30 p. m
week days
TUAINB LEAVE YoKK For THE NORTH.
Pacific and Northern Express, ilulty J.54a in.
News Express, dally ‘ (l.fll a m
Niagara *• xpressand Mail,week <layslo.62a. m.
Chicago Express and Fast Line,dully 135 p.m.
I Chicago and Ht. I.ouls Express, dally (1.29 p.m
Western and Southwestern Exp.dally 10.88 p.m.
For time tables and further Information ap
ply to ticket agent at the station,
S. M. PRKVOHT, J. R. WOOD,
General Manager General Passenger Aft
A Rare Opportunity!
Tuseoaora Farm’s great trio of Stallion*
SKA KING (sire of lauls Vlotor, 2:23ji, and
Cecil M.,2:28J4); MONOCAUY, record 211%,and
1805. at 626.00 each, thus meeting the time*
and all purses.
For Catalogue apply to
C. M. DaGARMENIiI A,
NO. 34

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