The Saint Paul globe., January 07, 1901, Page 8, Image 10

About The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905

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LJ LJ ' —■ !
By "M. E. FRANCIS"—Author of "In a North Country Village." etc.
CHAPTER XXI.
SIN SHINE AND SHADOW.
AuUimn had. come round again, ruddy
■ lipped, open-handed; scattering gold and
jewels lavishly over forest and hedgerow,
dancing with- light feet across . gleaming
. stubble fields to the music ,of ."waving
boughs and rustling leaves.
.Raoul, walking slowly down the great
avenue one bright morning, paused 11
contemplate his surroundings, and heaved
and impatient sigh. This joyous au
tumnal beauty, this glittering and jing
ling and merry-making of nature, jarred
upon him;. it was so out of keeping with
his life.
After a moment he went on, pausing
.every now and then before certain fine
trees, which, after a critical survey, h?
marked with a cross-cut into the bark.
"You, too, are doomed." he said, and.
In another moment the little white cross
•was chipped out with fatal distinctive
ness en the rough bark. Yes, this ties
must fall like the others, in spite m' its
countless; associations, its friendly pres
ence must be exchanged for a few paltry
gold pieces, that would soon melt away
like all the rest.
- The cross was cut out clearly enough,
yet Raoul still remained chiselling and
polishing It. as though he meant to make
of it a work of art. All at once he fl'.m^
the knife from him, and resting his fold
ed arms against the tree, sunk his head
on them despondently. He had sworn
to cleave to his home though all el?e
should escape him, to live there while
he had a orust to cat, to die there when
even that should fail him; yet now it
teemed as though -it had begun to slip
.. piecemeal through his fingers.
With his own hand he had marked cut
these trees for destruction. "Was it the
beginning of the end?
As he stood pondering the sound of
rapid, dancing feet approached, and
Molly's voice rang out in little short ec
static scraps of song.
She was quite close to Sauvigny before
Ehe saw him, when she paused, panting
and laughing. In the midst of a blaze of
sunshine which came striking down be
neath the trees. Raoul could hardly h^-ar
to look at her. Though she had man
aged to convince him that she was not
pining for Gaston, and, in consequence,
had removed one of his anxieties, the
strain of what he now felt to be a falsa
position grew more painful every day.
He was afraid of Molly and her witch
eries, of himself and his weakness, dread
ing that at last, in spite of his resolu
tions, his love might be betrayed.-'
After a moment, however, he aga'n
glanced at the dazzling little figure, and
smiled.
"You seem very happy," he said.
"I think it is the sunshine,' returned
Molly, apologetically. "It intoxicates me
sometimes, it is so lovely, you know."'
After a silence Raoul turned abruptly,
and began to hunt about for the knife
which he had discarded a short time be
fore. What had he to do with sunshine
and the sunny presence by his Fide?
They did but fill his heart with longing.
... Something in his face, as he rose from
. his stooping position, touched Molly with
sudden pity --.-'-■ r.. "•■
What were these troubles that weighed
upon him bo? Why did he not shake
them off and face his life anew Her
very compassion inclined her to be im
patient.
"Oh, why don't you try to be happy?".,
she cried. ■ • ; •* ."•..,..■'.' '•
■Sauvigny wheeled around sharply and
.looked at her. The sparkle had left her
:' eyes, and they were very soft and pity
; ing; she was bending forward ;ght!y,
• and had clasped her hands, her whole ex
pression and attitude betokening.earnest
ness,, free from the slightest touch of
' coquetry.- . ■
Raoul laughed out suddenly— harsh.
. bitter laugh. Why did he not try. to be
'■happy!' he who felt within himself such
■ • infinite capabilities of happiness—that
war the most maddening part of it—who
: was obliged to struggle constantly, with'
all his strength,- lest in spite of :every
obstacle he should be tempted to snatch
at it.
"I think, if you tried, you ..might en- |
joy things a little more," continued Mol- i
ly diffidently, . "If it were only the
-•weather even. Why. a day like this
'■'should make you glad to be alive."
.-. ...With an effort he withdrew his eyes
from her and they fell on the little white
cross cut by his' hand on the neighboring
tree. The cross! typical for, all time of
suffering and renunciation; had he not
himself set its mark upon his lot? His
'.. broad chest" ""heaved. • Glad to be alive!
Oh, he was so weary of it all, so tired
;- of suffering, and fighting and giving up, <
•'always giving up. ■ * -
"We differ, you see,", he sal.l, huskily;
*'a day like this, on the contrary, makes
■ me—wish I were dead!" . ■
,7 .. "Why do you talk like that?" said Mol
:'*■ ly impulsively. "I know it is no business
of mine, but still—l am sure you do not
lock at matters in the right light. Of
■■ course you have suffered a great deal:
■ I can see that, ■ though I don't know in
.. what way; but there are probably many
years before you yet. Why don't you
shake off your troubles, and resolve to
get the better of your ill-luck? After
all, a man with a strong will can more
or less master adverse circumstances
and I am sure you* have a strong will.".
-■- . This was strange language for a young
lady to uee to her employer; but the girl
• ■was too much excited to weigh her
•words. '•"■ '
"What does a strong will avail against
one's destiny?" returned Raoul, grimly.
- "As well tell a convict that his physical
strength will enable him to get to the
end of his task before weaker men.
■ Hercules himself, on the treadmill, would
net have got through more work than
the puniest wretch that ever was con
victed. Well, I have spent most of my
life on' a sort of moral treadmill; as soon
as I have trampled down 'one difficulty
another presents itself."
• "I dare say some people would sing on
the treadmill if they got the chance,"
observed Molly. "And, perhaps, if you
■wished, you might lighten your task by
setting- about it in a more hopeful spirit. .
Especially, if your difficulties are only
. money difficulties," she added in a lower
tone.
Raoul, ultra-susceptible where she was
concerned, imagined that she spoke con
temptuously, and responded with some
teat.' -
"Only money difficulties! You do not
know what poverty is, Miss Mackenzie.
r I don't mean decent, respectable, or
dinary poverty, which can hold up its
head, and, by pinching and struggling,
pay its way. I mean degrading, disrepu
table poverty, which has to stoop to all
kinds of wretched shifts, and to submit
Kj to every sort of indignity. I mean the
poverty that makes even an honest man
appear to. be fraudulent, that brands
i him so that he dare not look his fellows
in the face, that debars him from every
thing which makes life worth living.
... Poverty like this brings trouble enough
with it; however, if the acknowledg
ment will make you think better of me,
I may tell you that I have other troubles
J too."
' :He shut up his knife with a sharp click,
put it in his pocket, and abruptly walked
away, Molly following ■- him '-"" with her
eyes. She was wounded' and a little
, angry at his tone, and began to reproach
herself for having ventured to interfere.
"I did not gain much by being so mcd
. dlesome," she thought, as she slowly re
turned to the house, It being now time
Mr*. Wluslow'B Soothliijjr Syrup
Has been UFed for ever FIFTY YEARS
by MILLIONS OF MOTHERS for their
CSftIEDREN WHILE TEETHING, with
PERFJ-JCT SUCCESS. It f.OOTHES the
CHILD. SOFTENS the GUMS. ALLAYS
all PAIN. CURES WIND COLIC, and is
Ore best remedy for DIARRHOEA. Sold
by dru?-frists In every part of the world.
Be sure and ask for "Mrs. Wlnslow's
Eteothlnx Syrup," and take no otlier
kind. Twenty-five cents a bottie.
for her morning's work in the countesa'
room.
She found Mme. de Treilles in an ex
ceedingly bad humor, the task of enter
taining her proving in consequence fo
difficult, that she forgot her conversa
tion with Raoul," puzzling and unsatis
factory as she had considered it. An in
significant circumstance, however, re
called it to her mind, and was the cause
of her being unexpectedly enlightened as
to the real nature of Sauvigny's difficult
ties.
Being dismissed by her tiresome charge
earlier than usual, she betook herself to"
Justine's room, intending to volunteer
her assistance in mending the linen. The
maid was occupied in darning an exceed-'
ingly smart silk sock, which Molly rec
ognized as belonging to Gaston; a little
pile of others, equally gorgeous, lying on
the table beside her.
"Regardez-moi ca!" said Justine; "heln,
are they not beautiful? One must con
fess that M'sieu has perfect taste. It is
not our poor M'sieu le baron who can
wear such things, though his nephew can
— at his expense!"
"At his expense!" echoed Molly in sur
prise. It had never occurred to her that
Gaston could be dependent on his uncle.
"Certainly," responded Justine. "He
has not a sou, M'sieu Gaston, but h?
lives in princely fashion all the same;
therefore, as somebody must pay—his
uncle does."
"But why does he allow him to be ex
travagant?" cried Molly indignantly.
"Why does he not refuse to give him
money to squander when he himseU has
barely the necessaries of life?"
"Oh, M. le Comte does not ask him for
money. He sets about it more cleverly
than that. He comes tout doucement to
embrace his mother, and just picks her
pocket at the same time. He knows
that M. le Baron will never let her v/ant
and that what he takes will bs replaced.
Then, every now and then, when hfs
debts accumulate, there Is a scene. M.
Raoul is angry, and swears he will not
let him have another sou; Mme. la Com.
tessc faints; M. le Comte promises—oh,
promises eo:-t nothing, as mademoiselle
knows—and it always ends in the same
way. M. le Baron pays, and M. le Comte
recommences. That expedition fo Hora
burg* for instance, must have cost some
thing, and last year it was the same
story. Nothing like cards for making
money fly "
'Who would have thought that he
could be so wicked, so ungrateful!" in
terrupted Molly.
"Ah, ungrateful, that is indeed the
word!'' assented Justine, with a sudden
heat. ''If mademoiselle only knew all
M. le Baron has done for him, she
would stil less understand such conduct.
When I remember that it was the late
count. M. Gaston's father, who first
brought ruin to my master, and that he,
the son, owes him everything he has,
there are moments," saii Justine, solemn
ly, "when, instead of darning our fine
young gentleman's socks, I should like to
plunge my needle in his body!"
Molly was too much concerned at the
former part of the maid's speech to be
amused at the sanguinary desire express
ed in the latter. She did not speak, but
her eyes expressed so much wonder and
compassion that Justine, sure of a sym
pathc Lie listener, embarked without more,
ado on the story of Raoul's life.
CHAPTER XXII.
RAOI'L'S STORY.
"Our M. le Baron was still a boy," said
Justine, "who he and feu M. le Comts
first became friends. M. Raoul and he
were school fellows together-- at' one of
your English schools; there was a great
.difference, of age between them, M. le
Baron being, quite a boy, and M. le
Comte merely dawdling on there, having
finished his studies. However, they clung
together, as compatriots will in a strange
country, and one vacation M. Raoul
" brought him here. Mme. la Comtesse
was. then young and handsome, and had
a pretty fortune, and the young gentle
man began to pay his court to her. You
should have seen M. le Baron's delight
when they were engaged. One would have
thought he had now nothing more to
wish for. Well, they are married," said
Justine, with a sudden characteristic
dash into the present tense, as she warm
ed with her subject. "M. Raoul leaves
-school, goes to the great university of
Cam-bridge (of which mademoiselle has
doubtless heard), and, after finishing his
course there, begins to study diplomacy
"iears go by; old M. le Baron, the father
dies; M. and Mme. de Treil'.es install
themselves at La Pepiniere, to take care
of it for M. Raoul, who is devoted heart
and soul to his career. He comes to the
chateau now and then, is received with
open arms, and goes away enchanted
All at once the crash comes. MVieu
ie Comte has been amusing: himself h
speculating, and believing that he has a
CL ane v° f "-establishing his. fortune.<=
whieh have suffered much from this
fancy, of his-by a bold stroke, risks at
the same time not only all he ha?, but
nearly everything M:ieu Raoul po^e -
ses, too"— ■ ■ .
"How, why? I don't understand." in
terrupted Molly. "Surely M. d- Saul
yigny was not so fooliish'as to abet him
in such rashness"
"Oh, he did not ask his leavc-y nay
be sure o f that. Indeed I do not !>ow
exactly what he did-I understand noth
ing of business, moi. It appears he wrote
something in M'sieu, le Baron's name
and imitated his signature, obtainin- a
large sum of money in that way-how
as I tell you. mademoiselle,. I do not
exactly know. He meant to replace it,
but instead of that he lost all he hid
h mself. Well, as I say, the crash comes
at last; everything is lost, and disgrace
appears certain. M'sieu le Comte is be-
Bide himself with terror. He writes' a
full confession to my master, and then
not daring to trust it to the post Fends
for me, explaining everything to me taht
bien que mal, and packs me off. 0 Lon
oon to implore M'sieu le Baron's help
?rnm gIV- e£ eSS- ' TeH my brother-in-law
f,n™ IT' he Says ' ' that I throw myself
upon his mercy. Two courses are open
fnriT" • * may either repudiate this
forged signature, and ruin m e and my
helpless wile and child irretrievably in
name and honor, as well as in purse or
ii he is noble and generous enough—
as I deserve it-t.o stand by me still, to
keep my secret, at least my, honor, and
the honor of his family . will be safe
though he should share my ruined for
tunes. Well, you may'guess which was
M sleu le Baron's choice. He seemed to
turn to stone I when I told him: he who
a moment before had looked so hand
some and blithe it s was a pleasure to. see
him. Go back to M'sieu le Comte,' he
says and tell him that, he is safe with
me, but that I find it hard to forgive his
treachery!- Ah, modemoiselle i 3 emu*
i"'™* " is a sad story, and this is
only the beginning. Back I go. I give
the message to M'sieu le Comte, who is
much affected. You know, Justine I did
not mean your master to suffer-it was
just my cursed luck,' he says. 'Oh par
faitement, M'sieu le Comte!' say I Mad
ame, is to know nothing. No one'knows
S,"'" 1! m?*f teij V h€ count and m^elf.
Then the thunderbolt falls; not only is
Msieu Raoul's fortune swallowed up •
said Justine, with a. slight 'mixture of
metaphores. 'but worse than ruin-dis
honor-comes upon him. M'sieu le Baron
de Sauvigny is bankrupt! Everything is
swept away from him at one blow For!
tune, position, career, for under such
circumstances he. is obliged to give that
up, too and even good name—and so ha
becomes what he is. Well, time goes
him le m. te-that go d may forgive
him-dles, avsieu lives on in this soli
tude with the widow and child he re
solves to devote himself to the child;
f tv 6 l 0^ that ls in him almost goes
cJ c t Chi la he^ sins t0 tak^ heart
again, to hope a little, to look after the
property-all for the . child's sake You
see. mademoiselle, M'sieu Baron Is so
-fl£n »£J elt hls disgrace mor e keenly
than another man would have done. At
THE ST. PAUI, GLOBE, MONDAY, JANUARY 7, 1901.
first he refused to go anywhere, to see
any one—if you will believe me, he led the
life of a hermit."
"M'sieu RaouJ educated the child in a
great measure himself, but sent him to
college when he was sixteen. Yes, by
dint of privations and economics, and
unremitting attention to the estate, by
thai time affairs at La Pepiniere were
In better condition. M'sieu le baron had
paid all outstanding debts, and had even
a little sum in hand. * When my nephew
succeeds to . the property he will iTave
fewer difficulties to contend with even
than I,' he used to say. Yes, that was
his one thought—no matter what he
himself suffered or did without, his
nephew's future was to be secure. 'Doe 3
m'sieu then never mean to marry?' I
asked him one day. 'M'sieu is still a
young man; why should life be ruined
for him because of another's fault?'
'Hush. Justine, what folly!' he said,
frowning. 'Everything is over for me.
I cannot take up my life again for my
self; tliough I can and do live—for him.'
"Well, after all that, my fine young
man turns out just such another as his
father. A mauvsis garnement! '^art
less, foolish, denying himself notning!
Ah-h-h, do you see, mademoiselle, I can
not contain myself when I think of
him! M'sieu le baron did not find out all
at once—l think even when he did he
could hardly bear to believe the evidence
of his own senses—'
."But did he not reason with him, —
reproach him?" cried Molly excitedly.
"Reason with him? 1 should just think
he did reason . and reproach and im
plore M'sieu Gaston. almost with tears,
to lead a different life. Yes, and when
all else failed, I myself told the story
of his father's misconduct. Oh, he was
mucH touched, was m'sieu le comte. He
had tears in his eyes, and and declared
that he would never hold up his head
' mp» - i—l-|—rw i ■■' ii - - <^^— ——- '
"I want a husband who is easily pleased."
"You'll get one."
again, so deeply ashamed was he of
m'sieu son pere. An to proving un
grateful to so good an uncle, only a
monster could so far forget himself."
"The hypocrite!" exclaimed Molly with
flashing- eyes.
"Not altogether," said Justine, laying
down her work ami speaking medita
tively, . "I . believe that for the moment
he means what he says,— he has really
th best intentions, only he never fulfils
them. Well, little by little M'sieu Gas
ton grot through his mother's portion
(which, being settled on her, had former
ly escaped). Of course, when she chose
to. give it to him. no one could save it.
And then things went from bad to worse,
till now we are almost beggared of lats
we have been living, from hand to mouth,
how it is all to end I' know net. But
it is . not so much the poverty that
m'sieu le baron feels,—though, mind you,
as I say, to a man of his temperament
the present state of things, is far more
painful and ; humiliating than it would
be to one 'less proud and sensitive—but
it is the grief and disappointment.caused
by -M'sieu Gaston. His second bankrupt
cy- is worse than the first: for now hr?
is bankrupt in hope, in affection—in all
that remained to him in life.. And here
I am mending that young good-for-noth
ing's . abominable socks," cried Justine."
suddenly breaking off in her recital uiU
ringing her work on the floor. "Why I
do it I don't know. The fact Is we are
all ready to do anything for M'sieu Gas
ton; We all love him, I believe, though
he is, so bad. Yes, I even think.his
uncle loves him still, though he is often
cold and stern to him, and for that rea
son he suffers all the'more." ■'
Molly was silent. After a pause t':e
other picked up the offending again,
muttering that if. it were nat meidel M.
Gaston would buy new ones,' and there
fore, in his uncle s interest, it was be:ter
to continue to darn. ' . - . •■
"I am sure mademoiselle," she observed
all. at : once," "that I can count en : your
discretion. No one knows this story, ex- i
cept M'sieu le baron, his nephew, jou<
and I. I tell you. because," said Jusii-se
thoughtfully rubbing her nose with her
needle, "it appears to "me that you are
interested in M.'sieu le baron, and b2slde,
ma foi, one must talk sometimes, and I
have carried about this secret for so
many years that my heart was bursting
with it." I
Molly suddenly turned pale, and was !
struck with horror. What had she done? I
What dishonorable part had she uncon
sciously enacted? ,•--.
"Oh, Justine!" she cried, "you should
not have told me, and I should not have
listened!" • ■
"It is a little late to think of that now,
mademoiselle, is it not?" returned the
other placidly; "but Co not distress your
self; no one will be the wiser."
The girl turned away, and. after a mo
ment or two, sought her own room, a
prey to the bitter remorse.
Could she ever look Raoul in the face
again, knowing what she did, and having
become possessed of her information in
such a manner? How could she, she ask
ed herself in that paroxysm of wonder
with which we occasionally contemplate
our own actions, -how could she h^ve
stooped to such conduct?
She had been so much interested in Jus
tin story, so carried away by the recapit
ulation of Raoul's sorrows and by her
sympathy with them, that she literally
had not realized what she was doing-
After a long s and painful medltnticn
she resolved to expiate it by a full con
fession to Raoul himself, braving his d s
pleasure, that she might regain her self
respect. ■ - ■---■;
After dejeuner, at which she cut a sor
ry figure, she introduced the subject
looking so grave ■ and perturbed that
Sauvigny's heart sank within him.
--■-. i« have something to say to you," she
began, and then stopped, breathing hur
rieoiy.
i "She is going to tell me she wishes to
leave, thought Itaoal, and he turned a
shade paler, and braced himself for the
ordeal. • • - : •
™' I-\7 In?' a confes to make," went
on Molly in.a very shaky voice. "I must
tell you that I fear-I know, I have taken
advantage of the liberty you give me-i
have betrayed your trust;" here she came
to a standstill again. Oh, why, would hr
lips tremble so, and why did she feel that
painful, humiliating inclination to cry?
Raoutkindfy" ls n°thinS very bad," said
"Oh, but it is!" crled Molly, finding her
voice all at once and bringing out her
story as fast as possible, le* t her cour
age should again fail her. "It is very
very bad. I don't know how I could have
done such a thing. Monsieur, I have be^n
lf^ B lth / U£ti and somehow-"
I *J ar? ly understand how it happene3
she . told me everything about • you ail-
your most private concerns—and I listen
ed, and did not stop her."
The™ was a pause, during which Molly
listened to. the beating of her own heart.
When she stole a glance at Sauvigny,
it seemed to her that his face wore an
expression of disappointment.
"I daresay it is not very easy to stop
Justine once she begins to talk," he said
at length, in what she thought a very
frigid tone.
"I didn't try,'', owned the girl pen
itently. "I never realized what a wicked,
mean, dishonorable- thing I was doing
till she had quite finished."
The naivete of thds confession tickled
Raoul's sense of .humor, and a kindly
smile stole over his face. Molly's occa
sional childishness was a part of herself,
and, like all her other characteristics,
sweet and lovable to his eyes. Had she
again ventured to glance at him she
.would have felt mnch relieved, but, be
ing more and moßc overcome with a
sense of her own-jrnilt she stood before
him with head bent, and downcast eyes,
the very picture of a culprit.
"Oh, please, don't think too badly of
me!" she faltered,- all at once, mistaking
his silence. "I know I cannot expect
you to believe that I was not trying to
find out your secrets. But, really, really,
nothing was farther from my thoughts.
She begun to tell me, and I was so In
terested, and so : sorry for you, and It
v.as such a sact story, I was carried
away by it, and let her go on without
realizing what I-was doing.
"And so you know everything now?"
said Raoul in a low voice. "It was good
of you to come and tell me all about
it. A dishonorable person would not
have done so. Miss Mackenzie, so let
your conscience be at rest. Had not you
yourself told me, I need never have
known."
"Oh, I could not have kept silence,"
ASSURED.
cried Molly quickly;-; "What a hypocrite
I should have felt, apparently knowing
nothing about your troubles, and really
feeling lor you acutely all the time! I
am not so bad as that! And there Is
just one more tfeiug- I must say. Will
you please forgive JEoe'for having un
consciously wounded and offended you so
many times? Even this morning I spoke
foolishly, little knowing the truth. Will
you forgive me?" said Molly, at last
venturing to look up with dewy eyes. "It
can never happen again, now."
Her sympathy was precious to him.
Henceforth then he need not suffer alone
—here was one in whom he might confide,
who would be ever ready to comfort and
assist him.
In another instant, however, he put the
tempting thought away from him.
"I have nothing ,to forgive," he said,
gently and gravely^;. "You must not take
this little matter so? much to heart: For
get what Justine .has told you. and I"—
as Molly turned away, chilled and disap
pointed, "will forget that you know. '
CHAPTER XXIII " ~-
A DISCOVER?.
Mrs. Mackenzie, though a regular, was
not precisely what one would term an
interesting correspondent. A letter being
to her a serious matter, requiring a con
siderable amount of time and thought,
it was her custom? to take great pains
both as regarded writing and composi
tion.
Though the mental exercise involved in
the perusal of auofa epistles mig-ht not
have been unprafitable. Molly was un
grateful enough !to .find them the reverse
of satisfactory. . As a rule, her aunt
never *old her anything she wanted to
know; but occasionally, mixed up with
the pot-pourri ofe general information at
the finish, would, appear the fag-end of
something really interesting, o! which
Mrs. Mackenzie, in some inscrutable wav
appeared to think she was already in-l
formed. Thus, on perusing an unusually
lengthy letter one morning, she was sur
prised to find the following, which was
preceded as usual by a cursory survey
of the political arena:
"Mr. Burke has not yet returned from
v.astle O Neili. He told me before he
left that I might shortly expect to hear
something which would" astonish me
Perhaps your cousin Is going to be mar
ried; I hear he has quite relrnquish.-d
the idea of letting the castle, but Is
more than ever determined on going
Letting the castle! This idea at first
superseded all others. How dared he
think for a moment of such a thing! it
.was madness, it was desecration! It wm
enough to make Miss O'Neill rise from
her grave. After a time, however -=he
cooled down, and re-perused her aunt's
letter with more calmness. What as
tonishing event might they <=hortlv ex
pect to hear of? It certainly would be
rather surprising if Hugh found any one
willing to marry him; but then, as she
mused, some girls were different and it
such a union did come about it would
>iot be anything positively startling.
What could it be, and why was Hugh
more^than ever determined to go
"Perhaps by next week aunties will
have forgotten all about it," thought
Molly, and her curiosity being too thor
oughly arou&ed to submit to this, she
wrote oft then and*.there to impress on
Mrs. Mackenzie herr desire for some ex
planation.
But before her aunt's expected reply
could arrive Molly received a letter from
Mr. Burke, and another from her cousin
himself; both containing intelligence
which was certainly:sufflciently astonish
ing.
She opened Hughes first:—
"My Dear Consin:
"I write to announce to you a dl«--cov
el7. hl cn * have/recently made,'and
which, I assure ivqu. fills me with the
very greatest pl«aswe. I find that I am
an Jmposter, an&.that I have absolutely
no right to the rO'Neill estates—"
The letter fluttered in Molly's hand
but she read on eagerly:
'It seems my grandfather, previous to
his union with tfie dady whose memory
I have always severed as that of my
grandmother had contracted an alliance
with a very huinbte person, a house
maid, o.r a cook.i I think, it does not
matter which; ladies being at a discount
in the little Western colony which he
joined on lust emigrating. I daresay he
had not much choice. Well, my father
was the offspring of this marriage, anri
not of that contracted shortly after my
grandmother's death, with Miss Margaret
O'Neill. The latter had no children
but my father invariably passed for her
son; for my respected grandsire, having
'made his pile,' and married into a good
family, was not proud of his former
tmttiriTrn»ii'iiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiniiiTiiniiiniginMmi)7ms!isi^M
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slMatingtiieToDciandßegula- M
ting the* Stomachs and Rgwpl^ of iM\
Ptomoteslsiggsfioti,Cheerful- \m
ness and RBst.Contalns neither
Opium.Morphine nor Mineral. [pi
Not Narcotic. ' pfy
afOIdnrSXMEEUUntHEB. Q
I Pumpkin Seed" '' PjV
Mx.Senna*
'■ JietitxlU.Salts - I . IpjH
MlM*
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Aperfecf Remedy for Constipa- p
Sour Stomach.Diarrhoea, p
Worms .Convulsions.Feverish- 11
ness and LOSS OF SLEEP. il
Tat Siirile Signature of " 1
|_ Mra^^ /v * YORK. I
i->: EXACT COPY OF WRAPPER, i|
venture in the matrimonial line, anjj en
deavored to keep it quiet. Nothing con
cerning- it would, probably, have trans
pired, had it\not been for a hitherto un
known connection of mine. A certain
sharp youth,, one Matthew Stubbes by
name, chanced to read of my unexpected
inheritance, and of the strange terms of
our late kinswoman's will. The New
Ycrk paper in which these items were
set forth-was good enough to give a de
tailed account of my family history, and
to expatiate on the fortunate circum
stance of the late Mr. Hugh O'Neill's
marriage with a descendant of the e'.def
line of the family, through whom alone
his heir—your humble servant—had a
right to advance his claim. The name
set Mr. Stubbs thinking! in his possession
were certain documents relative to the
marriage of his great-aunt, Mary Stubbs
with a gentleman, also called O'Neill
and to the birth of their son. He made
inquiries, the result of which was that
he discovered the said son to be my
father, and my claim to be null and
void. He made his way here in conse
o.uence, armed with my granny's mar
riage lines, ets., and intending to levy
blackmail on me. But he mistook his
man. Never was I so delighted in all
my life as to learn I was not what I
seemed. If you only knew how bored I
am, my dear cousin, and how the peo
ple hate me, you would understand. I
hailed the idea of escape with positive
rapture, sent for Mr. Burke, who hns,
as he calls it, 'taken steps' to ascertain
the truth of this story, and, I am happy
to say, finds it correct in every particular.
So now nothing remains but lor me to
turn out, which ,1 assure you, I do most
joyfully, and for you to take possession.
Therefore, apologizing for having so long
kept you out of your rights, and wishing
you a long life to enjoy them.
"I remain, your affectionate cousin,
"Hugh O'Neill."
"Well!" said Molly, throwing almost
as much expression into that ejaculation
as her American cousin himself could
have done, and turning, with her bain
in a whirl, to Mr. Burkes letter. This.
! after recapitulating the facts already
narrated by Hugh, and informing Molly
that she now stood in precisely the same
position as before the former had ap
peared, was chiefly filled with congratu
lations. "We need not dread the advent
of an O'Neill of the elder line, now, I
think." he remarked triumphantly, and
he added, that he should advise her to
take possession without delay.
"Your cousin wishes to do so, and
your aunt is also writing to you to that
effect; in fact, we all (eel we cannot too
quickly extricate you* from your present"
lalse pusition. We shall, therefore, ex*
pect to see you, at least, in a week—"
"Absurd," said Molly aloud, "and quite
I impossible! I could not think of leaving
! before they had found some one to re
i place me. I don't know how Auntie and
Mr. Burke can be so unreasonable. Why
should I be ungrateful and inconsiderate j
to those who have shown me so much
kindness? Is my unexpected good for
tune any reason for leaving them in the
lurch?"
She found it easier to tell the baron,
whom she had seen in the garden, ncr
whole story than merely blurt out the
fact of her approaching departure, for
she had wished him to understand her
pcsition exactly. And so, very simply
and mo-lestly, she related her many vicis
situdes—on which hitherto she had never
touched—and. at last, read out the latter
part of Mr. Burkes letter. Raoul listen
ed in absolute silence. He was not much !
surprised at Molly's rather romantic I
story; everything about the girl was so
unusual, and she herself was evidently
so much too good for her present posi
tion, that £t first he even felt in a vague !
v/ay as though this was nothing but what
he had expected.
"So, you see, I must go, they say,"
faltered Molly after a pause.
"Yes, of course, you must go."
Molly, anxiously scanning his face, was
surprised at its tranquility; so quiet was
it indeed, and, except for that far-away
look in the.eyes, so much as usual, tl-at
she felt slightly disappointed.
"Of course, it is ridiculous to say I
must go in a week," she saM. with" an
attempt at cheerfulness. "I will do noth
ing of the sort. 1 will stay a month,
and during that time you can find scip.c
one to replace me."
Raoul smiled, but there was a spasm of
pain In his smile. Some one to replace
her! how strange, how absurd it was! —
as if any one could replace her!
"So shall we say this day month?" con
tinued Molly, ft little huskily
"This day month," echoed Raoul ab
sently, then roused himself, "but did
not your friends say they expected you
before that?"
"Yes, but they do not understand
There Is no reason why I should hurry,
and I—l do not want to inconvenience
you. I will write, and tell my aunt I
cannot leave for a month."
"No, child, do not do that," said Raoul
gravely. "You must go as they tell
you.
"In a week!" said poor little Mol'y, with
quivering lips.
"Yes—in a week, if they wish it. Do
not think of us. We shall manage, I
daysay."
There was a hu-rt, piteous look on her
face that went to his heart. He made a
sudden step forward, but paused, crying
in a voice which vibrated with passion:
"No, I wl!l not take advantage of your
sweet pity!"
Molly, surprised, touched, and a little
afraid, razed at him questionlngly, but
Raoul would not meet her eyes. There
was a moment's silence, and then he
called Ourson, who was wandering amid
the bushes near, and re-entsred the house
(To be continued.)
]Copyright in the United States of
America by D. T. Pierce.J
Tuesdays and FrldnyH.
"The Chicago and Florida Special" will
be run by the Pennsylvania Lines every
Tuesday and Friday for ten weeks com
mencing Tuesday. Jan. 35, 1801. the flr-t
train over the "Par. Handle . Route"
leaving- Chicago at 12;00 noon of that date
via Cincinnati and the Queen and Cres
cent Route. This service will be supe b
A solid train of the Pullman Company's
finest yestibuled dining, sleeping and' ob
servation cars (no coaches), through in
thirty-two hours from Chicago to St. Au
gustine, Florida. Please cail upon or ad
dress Mr. H. R. Bering, Assistant Gen
eral Passenger Agent, £4S South Clark
Street, Chicago, for particulars.
CASTORIA
The Kind You Have Always Bought, and which has been.
lin use for over 30 years, has borne the signature of
>2^ srir - an{* has been mado under his per*
CJE*ArfrZJ%2rtf}>s sonal supervision since its infancy.
fr^^Y.f*. *'CC<***/K Allow no one to deceive you in this.
All Counterfeits, Imitations and "Just-as-good" are but?
Experiments that trifle with and endanger the health of
Infants and Children—Experience against Experiment.
What is CASTORIA
Oastoria is a harmless substitute for Castor Oil, Pare
goric, Drops and Soothing Syrups. It is Pleasant. It
contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic
substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys Worms
and allays Feverisliness. It cures Diarrhoea and Wind
Colic. It relieves Teething Troubles, cures Constipation,
and Flatulency. It assimilates the Food, regulates the
Stomach and Bowels, giving healthy and natural sleep.
The Children's Panacea—The Mother's Friend. \
GENUINE CASTORS A ALWAYS
jrt Bears the Signature of
In Use For Over 30 Years.
THC OINTAUR COMPANY tt iiiiu.. _____
m^^—-■■■ ■■■ ■■ - iMiui_________ """"" OTWECT. NSW VORR CITY.
ID A ill II
AN AMESRICAS WITH A GRIEVANCE
AGAINST EVERY LIVING
CHINAMAN
LIVED IN THE CAROLINES
Gruesome Story "Vouched for by a
Writer in an English News
paper—Ship Captain's
Surprise.
Mokil is one of the islands of the Car
oline group of the Western Pacific. The
following 1 grewsome story of an Ameri
can who once lived on the island is
vouched for by a writer in the Pali Mali
Gazette.
One day in November, ISGO, a small
Sydney trading schooner called off Mokil.
The one white trader living on the in
land came off in his whaleboat. He was
an American of about fifty years, bronze
faced, stout and muscular, and quiet and
unassuming. He had just agreerl to sup
ply the captain with some pigs, turtle and
poultry in return for some European
provisions, when the Chinese cook and
steward came into the cabin. The trader
looked at the man curiously ?or a mo
ment.
"Is he a Cantonese?" he asked the
skipper.
"Ay! He comes from the Kwang Tung
province, I believe."
'•Thought so, by the run of his eye.
Been with you long, sir?"
"No. I only shipped him in Sydney
this trip," replied the master.
Presently the American rose. "Wei', I
guess I'll get along ashore, captain. Per
haps it would be just as well il you let
your steward come with me and pick out
the pigs you want. Trust a Chinaman
to tell a good pig.
The captain assented to the proposition,
and in a few minutes the trader, accom
panied by the steward, left the ship and
went on shore.
An hour afterward the boat returned,
bringing the pigs, turtle and poultry,
but without The Chinese steward.
"Where is my steward?" asked the cap
tain.
"He's dead," replied the trader, calm
ly. "I shot him the moment 1 got him
inside my house. Now, don't g=t mad,
captain. Here's a man I've brought
aboard who'll make just as good a stew-"
ard as Chow."
"Why did you murder the man?" asi
ed the astonished seaman.
"I didn't murder him. I shot him as
I mean to shoot every damned Chinaman
I come across in the South Seas. I can
do it down here." Then he to.d Us
story•
"When I was a lad of fourteen I sailed
with my father in a big lump of a her
maphrodite brisr called the Lubra. We
were in the China-Valparaiso trade. L,eit
Hongkong one time under charter to take
thirty-six coolies to Tahiti. My mother,
two younger brothers and my sister weie
aboard—had been sailing in tb.3 Lub a fo.
nigh on four years. Mate was my un
cle. Regular family ship. We carried
nine hands. I lived for'ard. One night
when we were two days out, the Chows
made a sudden rush. I was alcft with
a Swede staying the topgallant sail.
They first killed every man of the wat'h
on dock, then they went below and
slaughtered every living soul, for'ard
aft. In h*Jf an hour it was all over, and
they lowered the two boats and cleared
out. The Swede and I came on deck, and
this is what we saw: My father, moth
er and sister's heads were lyin? on the
main deck; my two little brothers, five
and seven yeirs of age, were just ttu'n' «
hands, feet, heads gone—and my sister's
body (she was seventeen or more, may
be) was thrown across the fife rail. And
every other body was s!ashed and ha ked
about, chunks of flesh lying about ev
erywhere.
"They had set the brii* on fire b=fo-e
they left. The Dutchman and I put it
out. TVe were; picked up by a French
barque the sam day. / en
ri^'' 1*1? -1 »lway* shoot eneot the
Chinamen when I get a chance."
PUNISHMENT OF PAINTINGS.
Violated Storey's Ciurt-Iroii Rale
and Accordingly Were Hanged.
New York Sun.
"When we went to Chicago to live 711 st
after the fire," said a woman who has
since returned to New York, "we fur
nished the house with all that was necea
sary to make it attractive. One winter
my husband bought a number of paint
ings, and after they had been placed
properly, we invited a clever young
woman to come in and see the collection.
I don't mind ttlling you that she wrote
for Mr. Storey's newspaper, the Times.
She understood art. She had been rear
ed in Boston and she had studied abroad.
"When the article on our collection ap
peared what was our horror to read that
each picture described had been 'hanged'
by a man who made a specialty of put
ting up paintings. My husband was teas
ed into a fit of neuralgia the next day
by his Chicago acquaintances, who ex
pressed their regret that all his paintings
had been executed. Of course the women """
heard of it and there was a giggle for
blocks.
"I called upon the young woman from
Boston and asked how she had mnda
such a blunder. She was in an agonized
frame of mind and protested that she
didn't write it 'hanged.' I was sure she
didn't. Then came the explanation. A
few weeks before there had been an ex
ecution in the Chicago jail and Ma
Storey's reporters wrote that the man
was 'hung-.' Mr. Storey was furious, and
issued an orper, so I heard, that hence
forth editors, reporters, copy-readers,
printers and proofreaders must write and
set up and read 'hanged' for 'hung.' The
rule was inflexible. The young woman
who wrote of our collection wrote the «•
word 'hung' throughout her article, but
Mr. Storey's rule was enforced. But as
long as we li\^d in Chicago we were al
ways known as 'that New York family
who had their paintings executed.' "
Drunkenness Cored by Science.
St. Louis Medical Review.
T. D. Crothers believes that when in- t
ebriety shall bo marc generally btudioJ •
and treated as a disease by the profes
sion, a degree of curability will be ob
tained far beyond any present expecea-^ '
tion. The continued or occasional exces
sive use of spirits to intoxication is pot
the disease, but Is a symptom of so#.<j
central irritation and exhaustation;
of poisoning: and starvation. Many oi i
these cases are self-limited, and follow a
certain course, dying away after a time.
The subsidence of the drink symptom by ,
the removal of the exciting causes arid
building- up the system to greater vigor *
and health is the only rational treatment.
The highest medical Judgment will b«
needed to determine the exact condition
in each case and the possible • range of, •
remedies required—not only one drug or
combination of drugs, not so-called moral
remedies, not appeals to the Will power, r
but a clear, scientific application of every 3
rational means and measure demanded. ,
DEATHS
McCAINE—In St. Paul, Minn., lan «,
]!H)1, at family rosidencc, No. 406 North
Exchange st., William McCatne. Fu- i
neral Tuesday, fcth inst., at 2:30 p. m.
GlES—lrmina, re'ict of the late William
Gies, aged sixty-nine years. Funeral 4
Tuesday, Jan. 8. 9:15 a. m., from re=i- -
dence of Mrs. 1,. E. Binct, 043 Martin f
et.; 10 o'clock, St. Louis church
FRET-In St. Paul, Minn.. Jan. 6 1901 at '■ '
3:15 a. in., z.t the reMdtn-e of her daugh
ter, Mrs. Michael Cnramey. 58 East I.ou
isa st . Mrs. Theresa Froy, age sixty
ninp yean?. Funeral Tuosday, Jan. *8
at^Si^O a. m., from the above residence'
Services at 3t. Matthews' church at
9 o'clock. Interment at Calvary ceme
tery. Chicago. Til., La Crcs.'e, Avis., pa
pers please copy.
AMUSEMENTS.
EFT®ffi3®l ITIUI L N. SC3TT, "*
MS. I Ely rsJLi I HR I Lessee and Manner
Tanifuhf to/iorrow and
* WBBSjJKUIj WEDNESDAY NIQHTS.
The Coming Opera Hit of the Season
rxftFWtKL. DANIELS IN
"THE AMEER."
Thursday The Marie Yon Weeern Company
Next Sunday ..„.. "Sherlock Holmes" .
APX3|Urt David Belasco's 'Greatest.
UIVnHU Success,
One Thousand "THE HEART OF
people MARYLAND."
_ , . flatlnee Wednesday.-
Turned Away , : _ *
Last Night. Next Week —"THE GUN-
Last Night. NER'S MATE."
. . — —;
STAR THEATER *•«*» -
every
NEW HIBJESTID ?< a%
BUBLESQUEBS. «c
i . and
Next Wesk— FADS AND FOLLIES _
BURLESQU3RS. 2UO
..EMPIRE THEATER.. '
THIS WEEK.
"IS MARRIAGE A FAILURE"
Admission, 15c. New change of bill next we3l<
AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS.
Jf you use for paper plates or films _
t-nlversal Developer and also the Green *
Hypo Fixing Bath made only by-
Picture making will be plain Balling and
your work will be commended. For sal«
in every city of the United States. /
V "THETdEWijI'aWE^
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