Newspaper Page Text
CHAPTER XI.— fCoNTiM'BD.) CausHldiere started in surprise; he was not accustomed to 6uch plain tq waking. “Madame is severe,” he replied, with a sarcastic smile. “She does not ap prove of the morals of my nation? No? Yet parbleu! they compare not un favorably with those of pious Scot land!” This rebuff rather disconcerted the plain spoken lady, who turned up the path impatiently, while the French munsh rugged his shoulders and looked loftily indignant. Marjorie, who had watched the preceding passage at arms wi*h no little anxiety, not quite follow ing the conversation, glanced implor ingly at Caussidiere. “Don't mind Miss I letter ington,” she said, when the lady was out of hear ing. “What Mr. Lorraine says of her is true; her bark’s waur than her bite, and she means no offense.” “Who is she, my child? Oh, I re member, the eccentric old lady whom you visited yesterday.” Marjorie nodded; and at that mo ment Mr. Lorraine came down the path, followed by Solomon, and met Miss Hetherington, who began talking to him vehemently. “She is not very polite,” muttered Caussidiere; "and see. she is already abusing me to your guardian.” He held out his hand. “Good-bye! I shall see you, perhaps, later in the day.” “Perhaps. Oh, monsieur, you are not offended?” “Not at all.” replied Caussidiere. though the look with which he re garded his late antagonist rather be lled his words. “I forgive her for your «ake, my child!” Marjorie did not go to church again that day. She had a headache and kept her room. It was altogether a gloomy afternoon. Mr. Ixirralne, se cretly troubled in his mind, had diffi culty in concentrating his thoughts on his religious duties, and Solomon pro nerved an invincible taciturnity. So flie day passed away, and evening came. There was no evening service, for Mr. Lorraine was too infirm to conduct ♦Jiree services in one day. After a dis mal tea, to which Marjorie came down, the minister sat reading a volume of sermons, and presently Marjorie left the room, put on her hat, and strolled into the garden. It was a beautiful evening, and the imoon was ristug over the far-off hills. With her head still aching wearily, the ,girl wandered out upon the road and into the churchyard. She crept tdose to the western wall and looked for a long time at one of the tombstones. Then, sighing deeply, she came out and strolled up the village. The bright weather and the fresh air enticed her on and on till she came to the rural bridge above the Annan Water. All was still and peaceful; not a sound, not a breath disturbed the Sab bath silence. She leaned over the stone I> irapet and looked sadly down. Her thoughts were wandering far away—flowing, flowing with the mur muring stream. She had fallen into a w iking dream, when she heard a foot step behind her. She started and ut tered a low cry as she saw a dark fig ure approaching in the moonlight. CHAPTER XIT. N . IIE figure advanced v |[ rapidly, and in a (f\\ moment Marjorie 1 \\*} recognized her tu- If ! tor. “Monsieur Caus sidiere!” she cried. “Yes.” returned the French man VMflv v Q ,liet ly, ‘it is I!" “He took her hand in his, and found it cold and trembling. “I have frightened you,” he said. “Yes, monsieur; I was startled be cause I did not hear you coming, and 1 seemed to be far away.” She seemed strangely sad and pro o -upied tonight. After the French in an had joined her she relapsed into her former dream; she folded her arms upon the bridge again, and fixed her «ud eyes upon the flowing river. Caus sidiere, partaking of the mood, looked d nvnward, too. You love the water, Marjorie?” Yes; it is my kith and kin.” “You have been here for hours, have you not? 1 sought you at the manse in vain.” “I was not here, monsieur. I was in the kirkyard among the graves.” “Among the graves?” returned the Frenchman, looking anxiously at her. ■“A strauge place for you to wander in, i INTERNATIONAL • * • PRESS ASSOCIATION. my child! It is only when wc have seen trouble and lost friends that we seek such places. For me it would be fitting, perhaps, but for you it is dif ferent. You are so young and should be so happy.” “Ah, yes!” sighed Marjorie. “I am happy enough.” “And yet you sadden the days that should he the brightest by wandering near the dead. Why did you go to the churchyard, little one?” “Why, monsieur? To see my moth- er's grave.” “Your mother's grave? I thought you did not know your mother?” “They say she was my mother,” re turned Marjorie, quickly. “She was found drowned in Annan Water—was it not dreadful, monsieur?—and she was buried yonder in the kirkyard when I was a little child.” "And you think she was your moth- “They say so. monsieur, but I do not think it is true.” “No?” “I have gone to her grave and stayed by it, and tried to think they are right, but I cannot —I aye come away as I did tonight and look at Annan Water, and feel it more my kin.” “Marjorie!” “Yes, monsieur!” “I fancy you are right, child; per haps your mother lives.” “Ah, you think that?” “More; she is perhaps watching over you, though she cannot speak. She may reveal herself some day.” “You believe so, monsieur?” repeated Marjorie, her face brightening with joy. “It is very probable, my child. You are not of the canaille, Marjorie. When I first saw you I knew that; then I heard your story, and it interested me. I thought, ‘We are strangely alike —we are like two of a country cast adrift in a foreign land, but our destinies seem to he one. She is exiled from her kin dred; I am exiled from my home. She has a kindly heart and will understand me; we must be friends, Marjorie, will we not?” He held out his hand, and the girl took it. “You are very good, monsieur,” she answered simply. “Then you must treat me as a friend, indeed, little one!” he answered. “I will take no money for your lessons. It is a pleasure for me to teach you, and —and Mr. Lorraine is not rich.” “Mr. Ijorraine?” said Marjorie, open ing her blue eyes; “it is not Mr. Lor raine who pays for my schooling, but Miss Hetherington.” “Is that so?” “Yes; that is so. Mr. did not wish to have me taught beyond my station; but Miss Hetherington said 1 must le, t rn.” Caussldiere seemed to reflect pro foundly. “Miss Hetherington is a philanthrop ic lady, then?” “Do you think so, monsieur?” “Do not you think so, Marjorie, since she is universally kind and generous?” “Ah,” returned Marjorie, “I do not think she is always generous, mon sieur; but she is very kind to me. Why she has almost kept me ever since I was a child.” To this the Frenchman did not reply; he seemed somewhat disturbed; he iit a cigar and watched Marjorie through the clouds of smoke. Presently the clock in the church tower struck the hour, ami Marjorie started. “I must be walking home,” she said. She began to move across the bridge, the Frenchman keeping beside her. They walked steadily onward, and now they reached the door of the inn. Marjorie paused and held forth her hand. “Good-night, monsieur.” she said. . “Good-night!—shall I not walk with jou to the manse, little one?” Marjorie shook her head. “I would rather walk there alone.” The Frenchman shrugged his shoul ders. “Kh liien! since you wish it I will think you are right. Good-night, my little friend, and an revoir.” He took the hand which she had ex tended toward him, raised it toward his lips, then pa;led it as if he had been patting the fingers of a child; it was this air of fatherly friendliness which made her trust him, and which won for him all the sympathy of her affection ate heart. When Caussidiere imprinted a kiss upon her hand she neither blushed nor drew it away, but she said softly: “Good night, monsieur, God bless you!” at which the Frenchman kissed her hand again, then, turning quickly, entered the inn. Marjorie turned, too, feeling her kind little heart overflowing, and walked away down the moonlit road. She had not gone many steps when she was abruptly joined by a man. She did not start nor seem surprised; indeed, while she was parting with the French man she had seen John Sutherland watching her from the opposite side of the road. “Good-evening. Johnnie,” said Mar jorie, quietly. “Why did you not come forward to speak to Monsieur Caussi diere?” The young man started, but made no answer. “Johnnie, w-hat is wrong?” she asked. He paused, and looked at her. “Marjorie,” he said, “tell me what you were doing with that man?” It was no time for his reproaches; her whole soul rose in revolt. “With that man?” she repeated, an grily. “Do you mean with Monsieur Caussidiere?” “Yes. with that villainous French man,” he returned, driven recklessly onward by his anger. “Why are you always in his company, Marjorie An- nan?” Marjorie drew herself proudly up. Had the Frenchman seen her then, he would have little doubt as to the stock whence she came. “I am in his company because I am his friend,” she answered, proudly. “Yes, his friend; and as his friend I will not hear him insulted. Good night.” She walked quickly away, but in a moment he was again beside her. “Marjorie, will you not listen to me?” "No. I will not," returned the girl, angrily. “Whatever you have to say against Monsieur Caussidiere you shall not say to me. He was right; you are all against him, and you are the worst of all. Do you think it is just cr kind to abuse a man simply because he is a stranger and unfortunate? What has Monsieur Caussidiere over done to you that you should dislike him so much?” The young man stared at her flushed cheeks and angry eyes; then he ex claimed: "Marjorie. answ r er me! Tell me !t*s not possible, that you care for yon man?” She flushed crimson and turned away. “I care for anyone,” she answered, evasively, “who Is alone and who wants a friend. Monsieur Caussidiere has been very kind to me—and 1 am sorry for him.” “You are more than that. Marjorie— but take care, for I know he is a scoun drel.” “How dare you say so?” returned Marjorie. “You are a coward, Johnnie Sutherland. If he were here you would not speak like that." “I would say the same to him as to you. If he were not a scoundred he would not entice you from your home.” This was too much for Marjorie. She uttered an indignant exclamation, and, without deigning to reply, hastened rapidly away. This time he did not hasten after her; and almost before he could recover from his surprise she had entered the manse door. CHAPTER XIII. FTER the a cane with Marjorie on Sunday nisht,Suth erland was in a state of despair; for two days he walked about in misery; on the third day his resolution was fixed an<l he determined to the Castle and sought an interview with Miss Helh erington. to whom he told of the scene which he had hail with Marjorie, of her anger against himself, and of her con stant meetings with the stranger. Miss Hetherington listened with averted head, and laughed grimly when he had done. “I see how it is,” she said; “ *tis the old tale; twa lads and a lassie. But I dinna like the French man, Johnnie, no more than yourself. I’ll speak with Mr. Lorraine; maybe ’tis his work to keep the bairnie right, though he does his work ill. I'm thinking. You’re a good lad, Johnnie, arfd as to Marjorie, she’s a short-sighted eedict not to see wha’s her friend.” She spoke lightly and cheerfully; but the moment Sutherland disappeared both her face and manner changed. “The lad was right.” she said. “Love has made him keen sighted, and he has told me. the truth. Marjorie is in dan ger. Now is the time when she needs the care o’ kind folk to keep her frao the one false step that ruins all. Mar jorie Annan, what shall I do for you, my bairn?” She stood for a time meditating: then she looked at her watch and found it was still early in the day; she sum moned her old servant, ordered her car riage, and a quarter of an hour later was driving away toward the town of Dumfries. Hardly had she left when the French man came to the castle, and, by dint of bribing the old serving man, Handy Sloan, with a golden sovereign, was permitted to view the different rooms. (TO UX CONTINUED.} to act. He went up f FELL FROM A SCAFFOLD. From the Herald, Watertown, X. T. Jobn Young. of LoTloy, N. Y., is7.’ years old, and is well know n in that and neighbor ing towns. While putting some weather boards on a barn, standing on n scafflold twenty-two feet from the ground, he felt dizzy,iost his balance und fell to the ground. The side of his face, arm and one entire side of his body, on which ho struck, was badly bruised. Picked up ami carried to the house, be was under a doctor's care for sev eral weeks. The doctor finally came to the conclusion that his patient hnd received a stroke of pnr alysis and ‘ was beyond medical aid. He could not tiso one arm. or turn over in b»»d. One day, while lying on the bed, he read of a case some-* thing like his having been cured with r. . ~ r , >. Hr. Williams’ Paralyzed by the Fall. pink Pills for Pale People He coaxed his granddaughter to get him a box of the pills. After that box had been mod ho secured another. In three weeks he l>egan to feci a little life in his arm; at the end of four lie could move his fingers; at the end of two mouths ho could walk, and in three months ho could shave himself with the injured hand. As he told his story in the Herald office, he looked the perfect pictureof hoalth. He carries a box of the pills in his ji x'kct. and whenever he does not feel ju-t right, he takes them. They cured him after doctors had given him up. and his death was daily expected. All the elements necessary to give now life and richness to the blood and restoro shattered nerves are contained in a con densed form in l)r. Williams* Pink Pills for Psie People. They are- an unfuiling spe cific for such diseases ns locomotor ataxia, partial paralysis, 3t. Vitus’danc sciatica, reurelgia. rheumatism. nervous Headache, the after effects of In grippe. palpitation <>f the heart, pale and sallow complexions, all forms of weakness either in male or female. Tin* Mtltmlliinii* tliroan “Keep looking upward.” said the sag'*. The youtli with pensive gaze Replied: “To learn tin- temperature. One has to nowadays,” neantjr la lltuou nerp. Clean mood means a dean skin. No beauty without it. Cascarets Candy Ca thartic cleans your blood and keeps it clean by stirring up the lazy liver nni driving all impurities from the body. He gin to-day to banisb pimples, bolls, blotches, blackheads, and that sickly, bil ious complexion by taking Cascaretn— beauty for 10 cents. All druggists. Sat isfaction guaranteed 10c. 25c. soc. Ait ignorant wise man is loss danger ous than an educated fool. Mrs. Winslow’*Soothing Syrup. Forcblldren teething. softens the gumt. redii'-en In flammation, ills)spstn, cure* wludeollc.. 250 anode. It’s harder to save a penny thnu it is to earn it. M Satisfies m that dry taste M Jf in the mouth, fi “t-lug I Remember the name 11 when you buy again, W A V TfjWwa JBBf AI VOW "HE THAT WORKS EASILY. WORKS SUCCESSFULLY.” CLEAN HOUSE WITH SAPOLIO F HANDSOME PICTURES Only a Short Time Remains | n Wl| , e to Get Them Free. ** The demand for the handsome POTW plaques which have been given S 9 to purchasers of Elastic Starch JS 7 season has surpassed all expectation and has kept the manufacturers j ? Hubinger Bros. Co., busier thaT^nv *!“« ln ,r the h,3t ° ry of thp ‘r business Iheir offer to givo these handima plaques away to their customers win remain open only a short time longer and those who have not already availed themselves of this opportunity should do so at once. Not for years has any thing as handsome In this line been seen. The subjects represented br these plaques are American wild ducks American pheasants, American ouali and English snipe. They are hand some paintings and are especially de signed for hanging on dining room walls, though their richness and beau ty entitles them to a place in the par lor of any home. Only until October 10 do Messrs j C. Hubinger Bros. Co. propose t 0 dis tribute these plaques free to their cus tomers. Every purchaser of three ten eent packages of Elastic Starch. Hat iron brand, manufactured by J C. Hu binger Bros. Co., is entitled to receive one of these handsome plaqueg free from their grocer. Old and new cus tomers alike are entitled to the bene fits of this offer. These plaques will not be sent through the mail, tho only way to obtain them being from your grocer. Every grocery store in the country has Elastic Starch for sale. It is tlie oldest and best laundry starch on the market and is the most perfect cold process starch ever invented. It is the only starch made by men who thoroughly understand the laundry business, and the only starch that will not injure the finest fabric, it has been the standard for a quarter of a century, and as an evidence of how good it is twenty-two million pack ages were sold last year. Ask your dealer to show you the plaques and tell you about Elastic Starch. Accept no substitute. Bear in mind that this offer holds good a short time only and should be taken advantage of without delay. When a woman reaches a certain age there is no longer any uncertainty about it. When a man gets in a hole he b al ways willing to be done by as he >lioubl do. piTS Pqrmaoa'Mlyt’ored. Hoßii orD»r*on»n«»fni Bret day'* tii** of Or. klina'a Ureal N«r»e Sand tor I’lt KF. I'j.OO trial bolt la and lihlih Dll. It. it. k l ist. Ltd.. Ml Arch SU-Fbiladalpbia, l'a No-10-llac for Fifty Cents. Guaranteed tobacco habit cure, makes weak men strong, blood pure. SOr. #l. All-druggists A woman would rather lay down thi law to one man than practice it io court.