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THE ARGUS, SATURDAY. OCTOBER 6, 1894.
CaBjaNTtA ma 01 ARKN chapter xnL ! AFFAIR OK THE HEART. .- with pretty ElU-n Maxey, no with 1. ..r!i-r. The end stvmtnl to have been Winn Mr. Pyo stalked out of the art :.t' nmni and the shiny surface of his T h ' Miie cuat bad vanixhed from Max T i .ht, it seemed as if every ray of li.ht that tiwW to illuminate the dou ;v rny.-t. ry, to hoIvo which Maxry had ....Jul to a subterfuge, had vanished Urn- at last the good artist and the ;!. r uciiic investigators reached a dead , Hi re every thread was broken. II r t.niil appearance the matter camo t.i :i In ! termination. The several . t. r in tlin ilruma settled down to the r p. nr.linury lmpponings of daily life. ,, ii :itrers ijiiito tut absorbing, how ,vr n iimviil t'roni the terrible, cluim-l :!. ;r utti-ntioiL The mure vivid sensa T UK i f tmlny gradually obsrnred the ;. .. i . i . I . n-at i. him i f yesterday. They ,i . tii.it f. ivt t but they censed' to talk a1 in: t'u' t'liti ful night on the Sea road aii-l .il! fli.it grew ont of it I.-un..r was unhappy. Ho was a fre !'( viiti.r at the artist's rooms even r. h. when there wa.s no longer any need .if !n t ri.fesfionul services. He seemed . . mi- there in his leisure moments as j - f rum himself. Ho was tho nicwt . ri -! r.ml witty of society, but tho ;.ai ilii-d im his lips when he crossed t.. tlu.-.oia ou his way ont It was as if t ciinilnw fell upon him everywhere ' i' 1-ru, & if the son shone in only fat :h- uii-'owsnbove the river, and all tho r f i if th" world were dark. I'jil L-xnuir know why this was? In a ' u-ii.' way perhaps, but he surely did i. r :i Umwledgo it to himself and" still p- r e his relations with the Widow i yt'v and still ccme hem No: Lamar t in 4 a man of that stomp. The dty h rally found himself out, that day .-nM his visits erase, A fur the pour girl without a name, iv Krni'.nnlly lcamo a natural and nec- ..iy iurt of the artist's home circle. T.i time cams when the face wore ev- - ilar afuiile, and somehow that smile . .:! I a world of liht and bcanty in t:v i '..ieo. In her art lessons sho was r...X::nr woutlerful progress. The day t ...- the knock at the outer door had ".irr'-d teacher and pupil into a con 'i of how very close to each oth- r ili- ir lii ails had como was scarcely 1 1 - t r.nd it was certainly not the t nr; v'.:ich the phenomenon occurred, ii ii v- ry opt pupil was the girl with it' a iL.n.e, K) devoted to art, so very .irn -t a ti uehcr was Julian Maxey, so ii.'i t il with htT achievements, "that th. - hrrle ciiisodes were scarcely to be r .-i li rul at. But, however much the familiarity of daily association might britu tl f.o two together, there was still a burri. r to a mutual undesvtanding, for pmrMi-s I)yo remained at heart the -hy, timid creature that nhe had '.iri-d at first. She liecnmn viuar luid u.itiir-il and snuled liecauso her snr- nKiuiugs were brisht and she was y i::;. but th-re Were a native delicacy a:i-l mttiveiiess tliat betrayed theni fiv' thMush all. X- rh.rwas hhe wholly happy. When f!i- tlmiiLt herself alone, thero wtre tins-, v. iit-n she nat with her head upon ii- r hand, limking out wur tho lonesome m.r t.it hills that made the back rr"i:ini, iiml when si in was sitting thus if J.i- Mn-.l.il ut ull it was through her - :ir-. Th-T" was ono thing that rron '1 In r iniif-h. I: was the st-asi- of d( n i- ari'l obligation, bhe could not ! 1 -afu'i -1 tn Rharc in a propjierify to vi:"-n mi.-did not materially contribute. I v as t'.iis that held her to un untiring "t'lifiuTi and stuiliousucss in her new " '"i-atiun. Hie hojied to cam a livt-li-1- iv.ithher K-ueiL and the i-nthusi-a-ti - Ma.vy, who partly realized what l. r f.iiipi were, eneour.igiil her in 'it li ijk-. It i t easy to make progress in a v .r'u imp Inves. Ik-fore sho had bem "i- r his tuition a month Maxey told I'r. Lain.irthat her copies in crayon and ' .i.ir -.ial were something marvelons for Mi.- v instruction had liccn so limit "1 M.i. y undertook to paint her face. retaliated by making a pencil -f'-h .f his features which was won-i- rfulij- aeeurato. And so the days were V :it. 1 'ii" Morning Mnxey awoko to a real wiii' m n of his situation. He loved. An I why not? Was she not beautiful. "it- Uip nt, n-fincfl, virtuous? Was she ""' i:i verity a woman of all women. 'Hi as a man inijrht be proud to be able in'rtHluec to his friends as "my wife?" " a she any tho less adorable tiecjiusc n .i-lr kuewthe name of her futher? the fact that she was nameless a lrri. r .f a feather's weight? Not to a f- i.i like Maxey. , l;t yet h hesitated. With all his ''iinsity uuuTCmiiatieuco ho was ac-ru--f ':m .1 to count the cost of a moincn- "ii.' h:. t U-fore he took it and the al riiutiv.n presented to him wore pain- ful. lie had leurned something of An- li-ti tli.. e eharucter. To place himself in p"itinn of a suitor from any reason kii.uvi j-.table to her was equivalent to '.ri iiia a friendless girl from the only ii nne slm hud ever known. Not to place nnusT-lf in tho position of a suitor was v.-r to know his own fate. When a .v"mig man is burning with tho intoxi- yutiuu of a first groat passion, this last uu, possible. So Maxev thontrlit hn xrmild wait nd wait he did until he was brought iudden resolution in the matter in n unlooked for and extraordinary war. ! Qba. aXUmgon when tha artist was KOI aSMCMrMat alone with his sister Ellen she intro duced a grave topic. Nevertheless she mod to make her remark seem a casual one. "Julian, do you know how Dr. L. mar camo to be engaged?" , juaxey looked at her with apprehen sion. He hesitated a little before he mado his reply. .Not from his oven linn Til. T derstand in a general way that it is a family affair. Of course you know that The Widow Forsytho is very rich. Sho is understood to bo very much in love with Lamar, and his mother, who is very anxious for her son's advancement, has set her heart upon it Exactly how it camo about no one knows. We know that Eustace was at Newport with her last summer, and that tho pledges were passed toward the close of tho season. But what is tho use of repeating idle talk? I only know what neonln r which is very poor authority. " hat do people say, Julian?" "Oh, you want that, too, even when it may not lie true? Well, remembering iua k is rumor scandal perhaps is a better word for it the story is told to mo that this Mrs. Forsythe, whoso hus band died while she was yet very young and left her with two-thirds of his im mense fortune, has alwavs used her great powers of fascination to break hearts. That has been her chief source of amusement and delight for years. The story is that Lamar was madlv in love with her beforo 6he married Mr. For sytho, bnt that she rejected him to make a wealthy alliance with that physical monstrosity. This last summer they met again after a separation of years. She showed him unusual favors and did her Utmost to win him back. It is said that he resisted all hir advances, but that fhe finally triumphed by somehow en ticing his mother on her side. That might bo easily so with a vain and worldly woman like Mrs. Lamar. They go on to say that this Sirs. Lamar hint ed and pleaded and argued with her son until finally, to rid himself of persecu tion, never dreaming that she would accept him, he so far forgot his dignity as to ask Mrs. Forsythe one evening 11 sho had ever had cause to regret the lit tle yo sho had once given him. She told him 'Yes' with a warmth and fer vor that took his breath away, and he had commuted himself before he knew it" "Just as I heard it, Julian. Was it not also, said that this second proposal was a mockery, so coldly and contemptuous ly framed that any woman with a spark of self rr-ppoct would have taken it as an insult?" Miss Maxey spoke vehemently, with a bright red spot in cither cheek. The artist moved uneasily in his chair. "You know, Ellen, of how littlo value this gossip is. " "Let us not deceive ourselves. Julian. The 'gossip,' as yon call it comes most directly. I need hardly remind you that I have a friend who knows this Forsythe woman, who was" with her last summer at Newport, and who has seen something si her since. "Indeed!" cried Maxey. "This is news to me. I did not know it Neither do I know Mrs. Forsythe." Said Ellen earnestly: "Julian, I know of her. I know that she has a terrible. ungovernable temper. I do not believe she is a good woman. She would make Lamar wretched, more wretched than ho is now. This match must be broken off. Yes, Julian, it is no longer useful to disguise the truth, even if we could. Dr. Lamar neglects his business. He neglects it to come here. He no longer cares to lie first in his profession as he used. His reputation as a physician is in danger. You have beard as well as I that ho has refused to take important cases, cases which it was in every way for his interest to take. You know it and cannot deny tho reasons. This wo man has him in her clutches, and from a false sense of honor, most creditable to himself, he refuses to break away. This is tho plain truth, as you know, and I say again this match must be broken off!" Every word of this had its effect Maxey knew too well its force and its truth. There was no doubt that the phil osophic physician had undergone change in the past few months, and there was also good reason to believe that Miss Maxey had named the cause. But what could the artist do? He replied at hist hesitatingly: "Suppose I say yes, heartily yes, to all that you have said,' what then? I do not doubt the advisability of breaking off the match, but how?" "Who could do it better than your self, Julian?" "You!" Maxey spoke bluntly, but se riously. . Ellen flashed a startled, apprehensive glance at her brother. "You are not treating a serious mat ter seriously. Dr. Lamar has been very kind to us. We have no right to lot him go blindfolded to a fate worse than death. You are his nearest friend. Yon will, you must warn him!" "My dear sister, I have warned him and pleaded with him. How does he take it? Ho simply becomes angry, makes an admission tome that I am not at liberty to repeat and forbids me ever again to mention the subject I feel that I have cleared my conscience more, that have done all that it is possible for me to da Lamar is not a man one can ad vise as if he were a little child. No, Ellen: seriously, it is your turn. "12 What a nreDosteroas idea? What right navel to advise him? what would he think of me if oh. no, Julian, never! I could not mention the matter to him. " You are not so sinmle as to mnnnw I meant that Ellen. You are a woman and a bright woman. Is it necessary for you to say? Act! That is what I mean. Teach him. You can do it better than anybody else. I have no confidence that this marriage will ever take nlace. Al ready it has been delayed nearly a year. o ao you suppose is to blame for that? Not she surely. She is said so far to have seen the fully of her youthful error mat sue adores mm now. " Ellen answered him in a low voice: Unfortunately, Julian. I hannem to know to the contrary. The marriage has been postponed at her own request I nave mat irom Lamar's sister. " "Oh, you have!" Maxey regarded her with a fixed look. "You are so well in formed on this subject Ellen, that I do not feel competent to talk with von. Still I insist that my advice is good. You women have a wonderful txrw-er in such matters when you are really in earnest But dropping that for a time. l nave something very serious to sav to you. It is tome the most serious subject in tne world our Annette. " "Well, what of our Annette?" "I want to make her my wife. " Maxey was quite prepared to see his sister faint, to hear her scream or to give any other extreme vent to her feel ings, but ho was hardly prepared for en tire calmness. Miss Maxey started, it is true, and drew a deep sigh, but when she did speak there was scarcely a trem- oie iu ner voice. "I am well aware of that Julian. Why don't you do it?" t or a minute Maxey was too aston ished to speak. Well aware of it! What do you mean?" "I mean that I discerned it some time ago, Julian. You are not artful enough to keep such a matter to yourself. I found it out, I dare say, before you did, and it made me very happy. You want my opinion, my brother? I will give it to you. In a worldly way some of your friends will say you have made a grave mistake, but in your own heart you will always be satisfied and happy. She is the most lovable girl I know. Sho will make the best wife in the world. I am sure of it I say this with all my heart, junan, wiin ail my heart " ishe tried to speak m a matter of fact tone, but the tears came into her eyes. Maxey could hiirdly conceal his delicht though he answered abruptly: ishaw, Lllen, you didn't think I wished to consult you about the wisdom of this step. I decided that for myself. " "ny then?" "Bi-cause I want you to advise me t r.rc, to help ma You know how sen sitive Annette is. IX once I place myseu in tfci position of a lover before her, ono of two things will happen. She will either accept me or leave the house. Now, I don't want her to leave the house. " Ellen answered him gravelv. "But yon have no choice. Julian. If she cannot be loved by you, she must she ought to leave the house. After what you have said one of these things must tie. "Ellen, it is a terrible thing to do to deprive a poor girl of her home. Miss Ma was very sober, but there was no hesrSiucy or faltering in her re ply. "You are not to blame for loving her. You cannot avoid the consequences. Go to her in a manly, straightforward fash ion and tell her the truth." "Tell her the truth, the truth, of course but but what will she say to the truth?" "I am sorry, Julian, that I cannot help you. I have foreseen this. I have tried to sound her, but on the subject of you her lips are sealed. "Yon don't say so?" cried Maxey, run ning his hand through his hair till it stood up like a maniac's. "What does that signify, I wonder?" "It surely does not mean that she dis likes you. Don't ask me to say more. I do not wish that you shall ever be able to accuse me of having raised false hopes in your mind. "And if she does not love me?" fal tered Maxey. "She does love you, Julian." Maxey sprang to his feet "Who told you that? How do yoj know? What did you mean then by rais ing false hopes?" "To your first question, nobody. To your second, by instinct and observation. Maxey sprang to hit feet. To your third, it does not follow that because she loves you she will consent to be your wife. Maxey, speechless, stared at his sister. "Does that seem strange to you? Oh, Julian, you do net know her as well at I do The poor child has poured out her whole soul to me. She lives under a con stant shadow. Yes, you need not start She does, and it is the shadow of the past I know you do not see it She always smiles and looks happy when you are with her. But, depend upon it she has moments, hours, when she broods and sorrows in silence. Julian, she is afraid the story of her birth is a story of shame. and that if it were known respectable people would look upon her with si picion, would close their doors against her. That there is a doubt is your only chance.' The dar that it becomes a cer tainty, that day von will IrXh ha th. ever. Mark toy words. I have been her ! mother, in a sense, and I know her. She would never disgrace or degrade the man no loves, .never i ou must persuade her that her fears are groundless. " 'I? IndMxt Rllnn 1 nrat lira In I- . , " , .u WIS matter, if I ever needed it in my life. " w no can neip you? ' You." "No. She would not take miVfoa 4n Such a matter. Tm will heat win wm own cause yourself. You are a man, and 1 A. - - a ungnt man, ana you can do it better than Anvrtmlv 1ha V.n tiavA wam.. rf - . v.v . ful power in such matters when you are - , i . .. reany in earnest. My advice is, act!" Miss Maxey arose, smiled benignly upon her brother and left the room. "Tha lunf" thnnirht VsToif CU wants to be quits with me because I could not aid ner with Lamar! But this ... HKV gether too serious. What shall I do?" CHAPTER XIV. the Knocking. The afternoon was drawing to a close. Miss Maxey had conveniently absented herself. Tho artist was alone in the rear chamber with his pupil. Annette was seated before an easel near the window while Maxey was looking over her shoul der, apparently at the sketch. She was not working. Her hands lay listlessly in her lap, and her eyes were fixed on the gray sky above tho river. "Are you studying the effect?" the artist queried, with a smile. "No, Mr. Maxey, I was listening. " "Listening? For what?" "For tho wind. Have you never no ticed how qneerly it knocks at the win dow frames sometimes? This is one of the days. When 1 am working here alone, I often notice it and however much 1 hear it it never fails to startle me." "What tho rattle?" "The rap. There is not so much sud denness in the rattle. That is not it. for when that happens you think of the wind. It is as if the wind did it, but it is not so today. It is not as if tho wind did it at alL There is silence, and then comes a 6udden dull blow. At first I thought somebody must be throwing something against the pane, but I found after a time that it was only a move ment of the window frame. Isn't it curi ous?" Tery. You notice these little things. Annette. Do you know, I have worked in this room alone for months, and for my part I never noticed whether the windows rattled or were 6tUL There! Was not that it?" "I did not hear it then. I was listen ing to you, Mr. Maxey. Listen again, and it will come, I wish I were not toolisli enough to be afraid of it Hark !" In the silence that ensued they could hear each other breathing. Perhaps it was nervousness, but Maxey felt strange ly excited. A low knocking not the knocking they were waiting for came to their ears through tho closed door. "How very odd!" exclaimed Maxey. "That was not the touch of a ghostly zephyr, but the substantial rap of some body tangible who wants to get in. " "It must be a timid person who would knock so low. " "Probably it is. Some beggar doubt less. Impecuniousness is occasionally timid. Don't disturb yourself, An nette." Maxey stepped into the vestilmle and opened the outer door. He regarded the man who had summoned him there with a look of speechless surprise. It was Mr. Dye. There were the woebegone beaver, tho shiny, threadbare coat, the faded blue eyes, the long hair falling over the ears, the smooth face with its expression of hapless melancholy and all that wont to make np the peculiar group of mental impressions which Maxey had learned since the first meeting, now weeks ago, to associate with the name Leander Dye. "You!" was Maxey's only utterance. "L sir!" said the somber voice. "Par don me if I venture to intrude my un seemly presence upon you thus abruptly without having prepared you previously Dy timely warning. " "Come in, " said Maxey. Mr. Dye hesitated. "Pardon me if I am constrained to ask an impertinent question. Are you alone?" "I am not alone in the house. No." "But I desire to see only you, no one else. I have no wish to meet the young lady who once bore my name. It would be painful for us both. " "You shall see me alone," said Max ey. "Come in." The artist ushered Mr. Dye into the parlor and closed the door. Was it that the gloomy presence of the melancholy man communicated a depressing in fluence? Maxey certainly felt an unrea sonable dread a sort of sinking at the heart as the door closed and he stood there alone with his visitor. Mr. Dye stood with his hat in his hand and avoided Maxey's eyes. He never lifted his glance from the floor. The artist noticed that he was more sal low and pallid tlian when he had seen him first; that there was a shakiness in his whole frame, a palsied tremble in his hands. He began at once, and his voice was like one speaking out of a tomb: "Sir, your ears are exceedingly good" "Indeed!" "Or yon would not have heard my knock. I knocked very'softly, as I have knocked at your door so many times and you did not hear. I hoped, and hoped in vain, that you would again let me go away unheeded as before. " "I don't comprehend yon, sir. Hare you been here before?" "Sir, I have been here many times before, knocking at your door so softly that you might have mistaken the sound for the wind or the rattle of a rat behind the woodwork. " Maxey recoiled. . "Are yon insane?" ' "No, no!" said Mr. Dye quickly. "It is not insanity. It is not even whim ateaL It is, on the contrary, strictlv lmr- fcaL Sir. you .have beard it said (hat man cannot serve two masters; l have sometimes tried. That was my trouble. One forced me to come and tell you something that I knew would be unwel come to yon. What shall I call that one? Conscience remorse? The other caused me to desire that you should not receive me, but allow me to go away unheeded. Shall I call that other sympathy and regard for yourself or for somebody in whom you are interested? Never mind; it is not to the point now. Your ears were better than I thought they were, and you did hear ma I am here. Sir, ' why did you not take my advice and have me arrested? I am a heartless, mis erable wretch!" Theatrical air or not, this last sen tence came out with a sincerity and a force that startled the artist The trem bling in the limbs increased; the somber man made an effort to loosen his cravat as if he were choking. Maxey hastily pushed a chair toward him. "Sit down, sir. YouareilL" "Sir, I am not ilL I deny it I de cline all courtesies. Do not offer me any. li you do, you will regret it when I am done. I am to be spurned and spit upon. That is my only use in society, and I may mention parenthetically that society found that out some time ago. Don't forget that sir. I Mill not detain you. I will not needlessly keep you standing here. I have come to tell you what I neglected to tell you before about this child whom I brought up. " "Well!" ejaculated Maxey nervously. Mr. Dye cast an apprehensive glance at the artist "Say you do not want to hear me, sir, even now, and I will go away, and you nor she shall ever see me again. Do yon say it?" Mr. Dye's tone was portentous and beseeching. For an instant Maxey hesi tated, but for an instant only. "No, Mr. Dye, I do not say it Croon, sir. Tell me the truth." "Sir, you have pronounced your verdict- For better or for worse I shall speak now and ease my conscience of a bad matter. I told you I did not know this child's parentage. I told you a falsehood. I know both her parents. Ono was a scapegrace son of a proud family; the other was a servant in his father's house. Now you know the whole. I am done. " The blood rushed to Maxey's head. "The proofs! Where are the proofs?" Mr. Dye again glanced at him appre hensively and backed a step or two near er the door. "Sir, there are no proofs." "None?" "Not a scrap. It all rests upon the word of a worthless vagabond whom no body would believe, who is in fact such a villain and a liar that he can hardly !lieve himself. If you wish to believe that he has lltd, there Is everything to encourage yon In that belief, nothing to discourage you. " "And why have you come here to tell me this?" "Did I not explain? I was forced to. " "By whom?" "Sir, not by whom by what By my conscience. " Maxey raised his arm with a gesture of impatience. The somber man rfimnlr back as if he expected a blow. He cried out apprehensively: "Don't believe met Don't believe me!" "Do you acknowledge it to be a lie?" "No, no. Not that only don't be lieve ma" "Mr. Dye," said Maxey suddenly. "will you swear a solemn oath, here in my presence, that you have told me the truth?" "Sir, I will not No oaths. Not to night No oaths. I have said it and I will do no more. No, not if the sword falls, I will say no more. That is all I came to say. I have said it I will go away again. "Go, then!" cried Maxey hotly. "Go. while you can with safety get out of my reach, and if ever you show your face in this house again, unless yon either come to confess that you have lied or hold the proofs of what you have said in your hand, you will regret it to the last day of your miserable life. Hold on a bit! Not quite so fast my good man. I have not done yet If yon ever breathe a word of what you have told me today to any living souL and I hear it" Maxey did not finish his sentence, but he was all the more impressive, for he looked unutterable things. "Pardon me, sir, the caution is not needed. It has cost me much to say it to you. I shall never repeat it But I must I must warn you that I am not the only person who knows this to be tho truth. If I had been, I never should have come. Sir, I thought it was better that you should know the whole before before you took any rash step or steps. than hear of it afterward, when it would be so much more painful to both her and yourself. You understand me now?" Mr. Dye suddenly turned, opened the door which led into the vestibule and glided out Maxey sprang after him, ex claiming: "Stop, sir, stop! I do not I do not understand you! Maxey reached the vestibule only a second or two behind his strange visitor and would undoubtedly have dragged him back over the outer threshold, but at the very moment when he put out his hand to seize him he heard the rustle of a woman s dress. He changed his inten tion in the twinkling of an eye. In an other instant Mr. Dye was free, the outer door was closed, and Maxey, pale and breathing heavily, stood upon the inside With bis back against it, facing the as tonished Annette, who was coming. quite unconscious of any intrusion, into the vestibule. "Is anything the matter, Mr. Maxey? -nothing nothing at all. it mere You startled me; that "Who has been here?" "You do not know, then? Yon hoard nothing of what be said?" "Why, how strange yon look! How could I? "I don't look strange," said Maxey. "It's the bad light I'm in. It was no- J body you care to know. Leln ca back to worrt again, mere was something I was going to say when I was interrupt ed." Mr. Dye was staggering down the steps, clinging to the railing with one hand, looking the personification of de spair. He muttered as he walked and crushed with his left hand a paper In the pocket of his threadbare coat a pa per on which a delicate feminine hand had traced these words: "Prove her a waif then. If they mar ry, I shall hold you personally respon sible!" "Doubtless the poor girl's last hone." thought the melancholy man, "and I have stamped the life out of it " At that very instant however. Julian Maxey, the artist, was making of these words a hollow mockery. He had come back into the room with her and had closed the door. That rapid pulse that Dr. Lamar had warned him was so like- HTio ha heen fcercT ly to get the better of his discretion was at its height He began to tell her im pulsively, passionately, before he fully realized it She turned so white and tmeechless that his heart almost ceased beating. The thought that be had at last uttered the irrevocable, fatal words came to him too late to prevent tho utterance of his hope and his longing, but not too late to make tho flow of his eloquence tremble and die on his lips. He became as mute as she and almost as pale. For a moment they stood close together by the window, in the fading light from the western sky, looking into each oth er's eyes with a mutual terror. "I I have frightened you." stam mered Maxey. An undeniable fact, but it was all the artist could think to say at that mo ment Still he could not stand inactive. He sought to take the dainty hand which timidly shrank from the contact Ha grew more persistent when he encoun tered oppostlon and concentrated all hit energies on tho capturing of the trem bling member. In another moment it was his. Then, with a sudden boldness which astonished even tiirwaif he draw her close, close to him. He felt her startled heart beating, as if it would break, next to his. The un seen hand rapped upon the window, but it had no longer any interest or any ter ror for them. "Oh, Mr. Maxev, let me eol" "No; we must undertand each other first Tell me that I am a fool or a cow ard, and I will" She made him no reply. She strug gled a little with her baby strength and gave it up. She was very quiet But still the frightened heart heat wildly close to his. She had not spoken. boftly the artist bent down to look into her averted face. There was neither anger nor tears there only the paloicss and the terror. The two hearts were throbbing now in unison, it was getting dark. "Annette," he whispered, "call me a coward! She answered him at last in a voice that was so low and hushed that it hard ly sounded natural: "I have no right to tell a lie, and I have no right to mix my life with yours. You are young, ambitions, rich, with a future, i nave not not even a name. "No; I am not rich, Annette. Yon are mistaken, and, depend upon it your name will be known some day, and it will be as good as mine. But what is that to me? What if yon really had no name? I love you for yourself. Annette, for what yon are. Annette, would yon place your happiness against so flimsy a matter as that if I were nimtAf and you loved me?" "Supposesuppose some day the truth about me should be known and it should be degrading?" "Annette!" "Ah, yon have not thought of that! I have. Oh, I have thought of it often when I awoke at night or when I even dared to dream of such great happiness as this' Her voice died away to quite a whis per. But those low spoken words did not escape Maxey's willing ear. They thrilled through his whole being as nothing nad ever done before. "Ah, then yon have dreamed of this happiness, Annette? Yon will not deny itr She hung her head and became scar let She said not a word. Her Tery si lence was eloquent But the delighted artist would not leave her modesty this refuge. Ue f elt a wild, aeUdoua joy in the knowledge that tha radiant little creature who hung upon his his, body and souL and tha knowleavn, the certainty, was not enough. He thirst ed to hear her say it He persisted: "Tell me, Annette, yon lor met la tt not sor The head sank lower stilL and aha did not reply, but the dark hair saorad slightly. A scarcely perceptibla littU non in tne amrznattve was all that seemed willing to vouchsafe All at once she aroused herself and sought once more to break the mnfrr bonds that held her. She fought aohanL she seemed so very much in earnest that Jftaxey, terror stricken for the result. permitted her to go. When she was nee, sue seemed about to leave him. but at the very threshold of the room aha checked herself with sudden lav pulse and f aned htm. it was dusk, yen Maxty could see the dainty features. They told him plainly enough under what a Ftorm of emotion she was raffer ing. It Mewed as if she Lad intended to speak, but feared to trust her voice. There she stood like a timid fawn, pant ing ana trembling. Maxey, hardly knowing what he did. stretched out his arms in an imploring gesture. She uttered aery, ran toward him.' threw herself into his embrace and broke down completely. "Oh," she sobbed, "how I wish I were strong as I ought to tm, as X thought I was! I had mado np my mind to Ull you 'No.' But I cannot. Oh, I cannot do it! I should be brave, and I am a coward. Fur your sake I Khuuld be willing to lsvak both our bi-arts, if need be, rath y than you make a misal liance with me. "Not nameless, un," rri4 Maxry.' with unanswerable, logic, "for I will give you mine. If you had a name, what else could yiu do but throw it away?" He U-nt .ver. His lir met hT. It was their first kiss. She threw ber arms about him with a arik-n vehemence that in pome di-grce revealed to the as tonished artist how truly his sister had spoken when the told him that be did not know the depth uf that emotional nature which he yearned to posstjsa, fclie cried out hysttncally: "Oil, toll me ovt and over a rain, till I cannot fail to believe, you. that when the truth about me is known, whatever it lie, you will never, never regret this step you are taking!" "Never!" answered Maxev. who bad reaclMtl a state exaltation beyond any thing he had ever experienced, "I swear it!" i It a-tonished Maxey to find that no body was surprised. , There wxh littlo oiTcraouv. no dis play. It was a very quiet marriage in the artist' rooms. Dr. Lamar gave away tho f irido. Miii Muxey was ex.-itol and cried a great diral, aad tho physician was very thoughtful. In the world there were hasx tongues at wm k. One woman, wln-n the heard of this marriage, dashed a costly clock upua. the floor mid maile a wreck of it A poor wntch, quivering between a jng of rum and a morning paper, saw the nonce on the printed page and nt fTed a howl if delight AftT that out-, burst he became for a long time still and pale and looked upon the dull tirown surface of the jug with a gaze that was fearful and aiqirehcusive. Then be be gan to mutter to himself: "Bah! What can it matter? What' inmim A it make? Sun has no saemory. cue never will have a memnry of one dark hour of her life. I am naf wt ill safe for another day of existence and this." He stroked the surface of the nr n.t thivered at bis own thoughts. Hannvfnv him that his window did not look out upon the broad river, and that there was no uncanny, ghostly wind to come tap ping at his Bath in the dead of night 1 (TobeeoBtxBaeS.) Kb CoaMal W slU ImAj "I want t- fit for picture. An lit "I abal be very (lad to paint yon. Una rill wait a week, aaUl I Salt the an I am at work os sow. LadT aty. I cot dot wait that loea. Wbr.t pranlaed to boaaa to diaacr at a o'clock." T! at' Um troabk wiia aoaM pecplc, Uwr hav o tisie to wait for tcaalta. SoaM woax-a w-ffl take a dote or ao of Dr. rvrcaa Favorite Frw- crtptioa and expect to fel veil iauadttel) . True, oaae So Sad aanckmilr ptwey ffre fraaartnrledoca, but earaolc dWaae. whira am has poam ioa of taw irsm for mn, c aot be rared ia a day. Pmrmvmm with it mm4 ft will core yon. tadlae. at sn the nit yoa softer tnm. Gaaraateed to cure la all eacs of wrr vonaoeM. aparaia. chorea, imgalarittc-a. twiaful period and kiadreo aliawata. "Bona wby- Kro Wktaky Ii a "Hya as h a Bye." natarally ripened and rro from all forrica flavor asd edntorama, rr ateed para asd ewer clevca yean of ate, racoaa awaded to ta eoeaotfwear aaa BaerKonwae ant da worthy of tha coaSVaea of tarallda. aaave feeeenta sad the ased. flea that ear essM w blows ta bottla. SUM per aart battle. boisl Bcsr" rotrr wins pare, oM Sad aaeUow, therefore beat adapted for Invalids, eoavaleoceala and tha ares. Itraatoraa - -- . . . . . .. ... uibu wiv-ai ana ofiawuia, vauao S the week and debilitated. 4)aana, fl. Plata, (Oceam. fat ap ea honor aad saarentaad by uuiab wisa, WJ- csJcaao, William CiatidialB. oUao. Children Cry for Pitcher's Caetorla. 1 DO not be deceived The following brands of White Lead are still made by the " Old Dutch" process of slow cor rosion. They are standard, aad always Strictly Pure White Lead The reoonunendatioa of MOcCier(n i u C&pvauis JWiaestock.'' t to you by your merchant is aa evidence of his reliability, as he can aeO you cheap ready-mixed paint and bogus White Lead and make a larger profit. Many aaaort-sigfated dealers do so. Foa Cocoas -Matineal Lead Ce a rave Wbae Lead Tmuaa Colon, a mi ainii caw aa a i; aoaad keg T Lead aad aau roar em ea. ""d mswree the beat aauat I a . Ssmu aad taior-card. area; It wiU prebabm JUTKMAL LsUO GO. Chkmaa Braach. fsWbsatmmfcCitacs.