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THE VALE EXPOSITOR FRIDAY, MAY 11)07. BT ARTHUR CHAPTER I. The Tragedy. .My feet touched the narrow ledge. I was Bafe. Hut Willoughby? Ilrave Willoughty? I tried to call to him. No sound came from my lips. I was too ex hausted. The last atom of strength was spent. For the moment I was l'aralyzed body and mind. I could only lean helpless against the moun tainside, gasping for breath. And al most Immediately Willoughby's voice came, quite cheerfully, quite steadily: "All right? Ilully for you. Iok out, here's the rope. Now if I have decent luck. He ready to bear a hand." Again I tried to cry out, to warn him. ,lf he would wait five minutes, three minutes, one minute, I might be my self again. Still no sound came from my frozen lips. The rope fluttered over the over hang. It st nick the icy ledge of the jutting rook to which 1 clung. Then slowly it fell over until it swayed losely in the wind, still suspended from my body. I did not attempt to draw it In. 1 was too exhausted for an exertion so slight as that. It swayed gently to and fro, and it seemed to me that presently au unseen force would grasp it and pull me headlong to destruction to the glacier below. In the mean while Willoughby was started. Now I dared not cry out. I could only look up and wait, still struggling fiercely for my breath. Hut if I had been too exhausted to warn him, to un fasten that rope from my waist, how was I to giva him the assistance he would surely need presently? A stone foil, and then another, as he f.Might for a foothold. 1 could hear him breathing deeply, though as yet I could not sen him. I stood rigid, look Ing upward, a prey to such fears, to such terrors as no man can imagine. Now he came slowly into sight, his f-et feeling with infinite caution. The difficulties of the descent were appall ing. Even for me, supported by the rope held by Willoughby from above, they had been all but impossible. Wil loughby was no amateur; but without assistance no, I could not hope to save him. It must be death for us both. Hut, and this was the agonizing thought, whin the crisis came, would the awful stimulus release my inipris 'oned will? Or would horror still hold me? And still he came. I could almost touch him i:ow. lie was actually near me and then, what I had feared, what I had known must happen, did happen. His feet lost their foothold. He was hanging by his arms over the ragged, blue-green glacier that yawned to re ceive him a thousand feet below. A moment he struggled frantically. Then he hung absolutely still. "Can you reach me?" he panted. "Hrace yourself and reach me if you can. Hut be quick." I did not move. I was not afraid to die with him. though the world has re fused to believe me. I did not move because 1 could not. Horror for the moment bereft me of my very reason to think and act. My will was frozen. My brain was numb. Then the . nightmare passed. Sud denly I was culm. I took in a deep breath. I braced myself against the grirn cliff for the shock as he should fall Into in y outstretched arms. I Hut at . that instant Willoughby quietly loosened bis, hold even while I gathered all my poor strength for that last light ; and before he per ished he cried one word, without pas sion, withoit despair: "Coward!" Ills body brushed my own as !. fell. I heard it strike brutally the glacier below. Then there was stillness. Ho was dead, and I lived. The stillness was awful and a soli tude still more awful vast, savage, and frozen, and always the whiteness of the eternal snows. And then dark ness came. Hours later guides? found me still lying there. I saw them scrambling toward me. I gazed at them stupidly, indifferently. When they called I did not answer. They bore me back to the Alplno village we had left the day before. There were black nights of delirium. And in my delirium I cried: "I might have saved him. I am a murderer. He died cursing me as a coward." And no they Judged me. When I was convalescent and crawled into the sunshine again, it. was too late to make excuses even if I wished. Peo ple had already passed sentence. No one spoke to nie. 1 was looked at askance. If any pitied, it was a pity tempered with scorn. More than once a kodak was snapped in my face. I was a curiosity. I was a coward.. CHAPTER II. The Beacon Light. To return to America, to work; to forget if possible that was the fever ish impulse that dominated me now. And yet I lingered a week at Orlndel walj. It was Quixotic, perhaps, but a. least I refused to run away. It was not a pleasant week. If 1 walked up the vlilac street th-guldep, HEMZT VZSEV loafing about at the corners, nud'.red each other and indulged in brutal jests at my expense. In their stupid, if honest, eyes I had committed the unpardonable sin. I had failed a fellow-climber at a moment of peril. They delighted to buttonhole the tour ists to make me still more notorious by reciting to them the story of my disgrace. I was completely ostracized. No one took the trouble of asking if the blame were wholly my own. I was labeled the coward. That was the end of It. Hut when I had lived through the Interminable seven days, each marked with an insult. I packed my things. vaguely hopeful after all. I was going home. I was going to America, and America is a long distance from Grindelwald. It was unlikely, I tried to persuade myself, that the story and the kodaks would follow me there. Hut If so, at least my fellow-townsmen would give me the benefit of the doubt. For once there had been a fire and a panic In the theater, and I had been lucky enough to help a little. So, if the story reached them, they would listen before they condemned. When my luggage was placed on the roof of the omnibus, and I was already "Coward!" seated Inside, the proprietor of the hotel, who had hitherto held himself discreetly aloof, deigned to wish me good-by. "Adieu, Mr. Haddon. It will not give you pleasure to remember my hotel. I am afraid," he said with a mournful diffidence. "That would be too much to expect," I answered, cynically amused at his embarrassment. He hesitated a moment, one foot on the steps of the omnibus. "Mr. Haddon, may I say that I have sympathy for you? 1 not let the lit tle accidenta spoil your life. None of us are always brave. And certainly thero is a courage of the spirit as well as of the body. The world condemns hastily, but It will doubt its verdict If you refuse to accept it. And you go now?"' "To America," I replied grimly, "where at present there is no verdict." "Hut not at once?" "Why not?" I asked In surprise. "It Is your affair of course, mon sieur, but at least" he was seeking a pretentious expression of sympathy, but he ended lamely "but at least do not let this simple affair spoil your digestion." "Perhaps I shall linger a day or two at Lucerne," I said good-naturedly. "Ah, yes," he nodded in approval, "monsieur will retreat slowly." And so I came to Lucerne instead of sailing immediately to America as I had Intended. It was not exactly bravado that sent me there to meet the worn and sneers of those who may have heard of my disgrace. It was the sympathy of the little innkeeper. When I arrived. Lucerne wa3 en fete. The Schwelzeihof was crowded. Hut In the restaurant I was not recog nized. - I began to hope that I might not be. In the writing-room, however, a London weekly advertised to the I ) worid the story of my disgrace; and one of those cursed kodaks adorned the first page. It was only a question of hours before I should be known. I walked out on the terrace for coffee profoundly discouraged. The terrace, screened by bay-trees and cedars from the broad road that ran along the lake, swarmed with the people who came to Switzerland, not to see but to be seen. They were chattering in every tongue In Europe I stood In full view of everyone until a waiter beckoned to me; for there were few tables unoccupied. rrom the railway station to the Hotel Nationale the quay was ablaze with the flare of multicolored lights Placed in screenlike receptacles at in tervals against the facades of the great hotels, the white monotony of outline was transformed into a fairy fabric of blue and green and red. The black masses of the people at the windows and balconies, eager to see the proces sion of the lake, were thrown into garish relief. Heneath the double rows of chestnut trees flowed a boisterous stream of Swiss peasants, arm in arm, shouting and singing as they marched, and a more sedate crowd of townsfolk and curious tourists. The lake was a conventional scene of gaudy brilliancy. A procession of floats was passing as I took my seat, each float distinctive of some incident of Swiss life or of Swiss history and glory. I looked out on this stereotyped scene of gayety with a resolute show of interest. I was determined not to let the incident of the photograph rum my digestion, as the little innkeeper had said. Perhaps it was my morbid fancy, but already I though people were regarding me curiously. And then I was sure I heard my name spoken by a woman. I refused to look around. I smoked my cigar deliberate ly, looking out toward the lake. Suddenly from the Rlgl mountain far off on the left, a dot of light pierced the black gloom. Another and another quivered, until there was a double row of them burning some dis tance down the mountainside. Then on the right, on austere giant Pilatus, its shaggy head crowned with stars, other lights blazed. . And then, very far off, up in the silence of the snows, one solitary beacon light shone like a star, steadily and alone. This little light comforted me, though it glowed from the very region of the tragedy. I liked to think it an emblem of hope. Out of the gloom and despair it burned steadily. It gave me a sort of courage. My elbow was Jogged, and not with deference. "Pardon, but this seat is reserved." It was a waiter who spoke, and he was insolent. Hut I answered'quletly: "I was given this place by another waiter. There was no placard on the table nor were the chairs turned up. Why do you say it is reserved?" As I asked this question I glanced over my shoulder to see for whom the man was demanding my place. On the steps leading to the terrace from the dining-room stood two ladies. One of them was a handsome, distin guished woman well passed middle age. and saying that of her, one has said everything. Of the other, one might say every thing, and yet feel that one had said nothing. It was not the air of proud distinction that arrested my gaze, for she shared that quality with the other. It was not that she was mere ly young and beautiful. Other women are young and beautiful. It was rather that there breathed from the quiet presence of this woman a noble seren ity and calm that Is as adorable as it is rare. The assured, direct look of her eyes was truth itself. She had not seen me. Sho Tolled beyond th lake at the solitary little beacon light that had comforted me only a moment ago. I gave up my seat at once, of course. I walked slowly to the eud of the terrace, and took a less desir able place. I refused to allow myself to be Inter ested In theso people. And yet I was strangely Interested in them. It was as if I w ere waiting. When my elbow was again touched, I felt no surprise. It was the waiter who had spoken to me a moment before. "Pardon the ladles who took your seat" The youuger of the two women had risen. She stood at the tabid, leaning forward slightly, her expression at once startled and eager. To my aston ishment she was smiling at me radi antly, a smile of charming surprise and welcome. Hut as I stared at her stupidly, the smile was succeeded by an expression of dismay. She ad dressed the elder woman lu an agi tated whisper. Wonder held me spellbound as well as they. I turned vaguely to the waiter. He had already left my side. summoned imperiously, no doubt, by the ladies who had certainly mistaken me for another. I had half risen. Now I seated my self again, and every nerve tingled with excitement. The adventure was not yet ended: I was sure of it. And I welcomed the diversion, even though pain and humiliation were to be its price. I had come to Lucerne on momentary impulse, so I thought What if fate had guided that Impulse? For the third time the waiter sioke to me. I looked up at him calmly; I had known he would come. "The ladles wish to speak to mon sieur, if monsieur is at liberty." The summons had come, as I knew that it would. I drew in a deep breath. My heart was beating fast though outwardly I was calm enough. I turned; I advanced toward them. CHAPTER III, The One Woman. I scanned each face Intently as I approached them. There was a high, delicate color on the cheeks of the elder woman. She was frowning slightly. I could not be sure whether curiosity or annoyance was the domi nant note of her bearing. Hut pres ently I saw that it was rather resent ment and thinly veiled contempt. During the past week scorn and con tempt had flashed from too many eyes that I should misinterpret that look They knew, then, the story of my dis grace. That fact would explain the expression of contempt; but why this strange resentment, this indignation? The younger woman, the daughter, for the likeness was unmistakable, sat motionless as I approached. The attl tude was significant of a feeling more hostile and deeper than that which agitated the mother. It was the mother who spoke, not without evident reluctance: "Is It true that you are Mr. Haddon Mr. Ernest Haddon? "It Is true," I replied quietly. 'Then you were with Mr. Lawrence Willoughby when the tragedy oc curred?" she continued In a deep, even voice. - "Yes, madam." "I am Mrs. Hrett. -This Is my daugh ter, Miss Hrett." Again I bowed gravely. The girl made a slight Inclination, but her eyes still gazed intently at the little beacon light that still burned on the mountain. I heard the name at first with an Idle curiosity. Then vaguely I re peated it to myself. I had heard it before. It awoke startled memories. I vainly tried to place these people who were compelling themselves to speak to me with so evident a reluct ance and hesitation. "I am sure I have heard, only late ly" "Perhaps," assented Mrs. Hrett bit terly, "it was Mr. Willoughby him self" "Mother!" The daughter touched the mother's arm appealingly. "Yes," I said in a low voice, "I re member now." "Then, sir." and the question rose to a crescendo of restrained feeling, "when we were informed only a mo ment ago that you were Mr. Hadfion, you will understand why wo have sent for you?" "Yes, madam. I understand. You wish to hear from my Hps the iipa of the survivor of the tragedy?" Willoughby had loved the daughter. When death had faced us together, he had spoken of her. At such a time ore opens one's heart, even to a stranger. And he had told me of his heart's desire; he had told me of his despair that she had not returned his love. At least not openly. Hut now, when it was too late, perhaps Rhe realized that she had loved him after all. If that were so. with what ab horrence must she regard me. Aud If I were to tell her everything that he had died reproaching me for cow ardice Yes, pain and humiliation were Indeed to be the price of this meeting. . Yet outwardly I maintained a stole calm. I knew there mu9t. be no ex cuses for myself. Whether this wom an had loved him or not, at least his memory must be sacred to her. The man who was dead had paid the last penalty of presumption and folly. Hut that must not be hinted at; it w? my weakness and cowardice that I must emphasize. "Helena." Mrs. Hrett turned to her daughter, "would you prefer that Mr. Haddon speak to you alone?" "Yes, mother, 1 should prefer that. "I shall wait for you, Helena, in the writing room. Good evening, Mr. Haddon." mm DAINTY UNDERWEAR IS EASY TO MAKE. Trying On and Fitting, So Necessary for "Outside" Garments, Have No Place in the Fashioning of Fine Lingerie. For those who have the time and are fond of sewing, the making of fine underwear is really a most delightful and fascinating employment. Unlike making frocks, blouses and such "out side" garments, which are apt to pre sent a good many difficulties In the way of fitting and the adjustment of the trimmings, flue underwear merely requires dainty workmanship and neat sewing, as the fitting is of the simplest and, with the aid of a good pattern, is hardly considered. Of course, the tops of petticoats, yoke bands, etc., are best adjusted to the figure, but corset covers, night gowns and such garments can safely be made to measurement, without any preliminary "trying on" at all. Combination garments are extreme ly popular, ono or two of these being shown in the Illustration. For in stance, the second sketch shows a corset cover and drawers In one, a most comfortable and graceful gar ment. This model is planned to do away with the separate skirt, thus avoiding any bunchlness about the hips. French nainsook was used for the garment pictured, the trimming con- BEADS ARE SMART AS EVER. Are Worn with Almost Every Variety of Costume. Heads are having a renewed run in fashion's favor. They are worn with more discretion than was often displayed In the course of the vogue of a similar whim a few em-s ao Long chains are not now used, but merely necklaces, just enough to fall prettily on the bosom. Coral, which Is tolerably expensive, is first favor ite; the new coral necklace is of round beads carefully graduated. The handsome Japanese coral is a novelty; it Is susceptible of a high polish, but Is not pink, coming In a white, scarcely tinted with a faint pink shade. Ordinary colored glass beads when used must be chosen to match the color of the gown, or to' harmonize correctly therewith: and the appear ance of such a necklet Is improved by a cut crystal being strung between each of the colored beads. Gold beads, graduated in size, the largest, of course. In front, are most pretty on fur, and as these beads are hollow, the cost of such a necklet s not high. Those who jKissess the gold beads once worn by their grand mothers are most lucky. Heads are also seen made up in the guise of tiny nets for the hair, set upon gold threads. If dellcnte'y done these are charming. They may not be worn by every one. however. As a rule only the very youthful looking charmers may safely employ them. NEWEST TAILOR MADE SUITS. French Tussore Excellent Material - for Outing Wear. French tussore, which 1 1 much hand somer, finer, and with a greater sheen than the other rough silks, is the me dium for some tailor made suits, the most conventional ; having a kilted skirt with a semi-fitting Jacket; double breasted, and of moderate length. While this might be said to be the favorite model, some tailors favor the tight fitting coat. A dull rose tussore silk is made tailored coat and skirt with no re lief except large pearl buttons and an PdJ'jstable lingerie collar of embroid ered linen. This is a charming cos tume for outing wear, where extreme fervieeabllity need not be considered. Add to it a panama hat turned up in front and decorated by a wide scarf of soft taffeta matching the pink of thfl hat. With a blouse of sheer white batiste, with pert lace edited frills, and you have a French version of the ouing costume. The scarf trimmed R.iama Is a youthful type of hat, but it can be bent and draped Into becom lnfness, and it is a particularly p'.ouant and natty hat to wear wllh morning costume. Ixrng chiffon t &SJ3OJVS LATEST FANCIES' m For Home Sewing slstlng of German Val. insertion an edge. A corset cover and skirt com blnation is also much liked, especially with princess gowns of thin materials These are so cut that the fastening is down the middle of the back, this fastening also being seen in some of the corset covers designed for wear with thin summer gowns. Fine longcloth and cambric are gen erally used for petticoats designed for ordinary wear, although the very elaborate ones with hand-embroidered scallops or elaborate trimmings of lace are usually of nainsook a ma terlal which is also generally used for night dresses. Hg. No. 7 shows one of the best liked styles, the gown being made so that it can be slipped on over the head, so that no other opening is nec essary. Dainty hand embroidered scallops finished the edges of th necK ana sleeves, and little eyelet noies were embroidered below the scallops about the low-cut neck through which wash ribbon was run me yoke or the gown was inlet with curved pieces of Valenciennes insertion, these lace sections beln worked into the design in hand em broidery, used as a decoration. The yoke was Joined to the lower part of the gown by fine entredeux. ine otner sketches shown in the plate depict several pretty designs fo trimming underwear. Fig. 1 shows corset cover cut In one piece, the ma terlal being straight In the middle o the back and bias in front. Houii medallions combined with half-inch vwue insertion or val. lace were ued as trimming, the neck and sleeve holes being finished by ribbon threaded beading and Valenciennes edge. US. ? shows a French chemise hand embroidered and scalloped and trimmed with a little fine lace about the edges of the neck and sleeves while Fig. 4 shows drawers of nain sook trimmed with round medallions of batiste and. Valenciennes insertion a iuii iaee-eclsed ruffle finished the hem in shallow scallops No. o shows a corset cover which doses down the mi. Idle of the back, wnile No. 6 pictures a very attract! v Empire chemise .-.vans nuuueu iiemuu ana iailing over the shoulders often are substituted for the scarfs of silk With Brown Trimmings. There is no color that lends itself loss attractively to trimming than brown; that is. the dark shales, and therefore a model constructed along simple lines Is preferable. Silk of the same or darker shades, braids, and flat trimmings in monotone are most effective. A new model shown in golden brown marquisette, and which Is to form part of a wedding trous scan, has the skirt laid in a triple box plait the length of the front, forming a panel. Around the bottom are three wide tucks, and each is heavily braid ed with soutache of the gown shade. The braided pattern extends up oer the front panel In pyramidal form. The bodice is a jumper with the neck cut iu a scalloped point, the scallop button-holed and embroidered In Eng lish eyelet and braided and the front also is well covered with a braided design. DESIGN FOR WATCH STAND. Wood Foundation With Silk Worked in Ribbon Embroidery. Two pieces of thin wood about five inches deep and 3Va wide are used as the foundation for this pretty little stand. The lower one forming the foundation should be well sandpaper ed to make it smooth, then stained either dark green or brown. The up pe pleco that forms the rest for the watch is covered with silk worked In ribbon embroidery. When' worked, the silk should be strained tightly over one side of the wood, the edges fixed at the back with seccotlne; cover a piece of paper a trifle smaller than the wood with silk or sateen, then seccotlne to the back to make all neat. A brass hook should next be screwed Into the center of top above the plain circle, from which suspend the watch. This ornamental piece must now b fixed to the foundation by two littl supports of stained wood about tl.n inches long, that must be fixd 1 seccotlne or by small brass tack' THE MARRYING SQUIRE." Justice Geo. E. Law, of Brazil, lnd Has Married 14C0 Couples. Justice Geo. E. Law, of Brazil, Ind, has fairly earned the title "The Mar rying Squire," by which ho is known far and wide, having already married som 1400 couples. Tea years ago he was Deputy County Treasurer. "At that time," said Justice Law, "I was suffer- UfJ lng from an annoying l;ldnpv frmihlo Mw back ached, my rest was broken at night, and the passage of the kidney secretions were too fre quent and contained sediment. Three boxes of Doan's Kidney Pills cured me in 1S97, and for the past nine years I have been free from kidney coniplaiat aad backache." Sold by all dealers. SO cents a box. Foster-Milburn Co.. Huffalo. N'. Y. STUDENT MADE HIS POINT. No Doubt the Policeman Understood What He Meant. W. II. Mallock. the wellknowa English writer and political economist, aid at a dinner In New York, apropos of a new definition of socialism: "I find that definition rather confusing. It reminds me of the young Oxford student's badinage with the ioIie man. 'Officer,' said the youth late one night, 'I'd like to ask you a question.' "'Very well, sir.' "'Does the law permit me to call you an ass?' "'You move on,' the officer growled. "'Hut stop a bit continued the youth. 'Does the law permit me to call an ass a policeman?' "'The law don't say nothing about that,' was the gruff reply. " 'Then 6'! the youth, 'good night. Mr. Policeman" BABY IN TERRIBLE STATE. Awful Humor Eating Away Face Body a Mass of Sores Cuticura Cures in Two Weeks. "My little daughter broke out all over her body with a humor, and we used everything recommended, but without results. I called in three doc tors, but she continued to grow worse. Her body was a mass of sores, and her little face was being eaten away. Her ears looked as If they would drop off. Neighbors advised me to get Cuticura Soap and Ointment, and before I had used half of the cake of Soap and box of Ointment the sores had all healed. and my little one's face and body were as clear as a wv-born babe's. I would not be without It again if it cost five dollars, instead of seventy-five cents. Mrs. George J. Steese, 701 Coburn St, Akron, O., Aug. 30, 190.V One Way. A reverend gentleman was addres ing a Sunday school cUss not long ago, and was trying to enforce th doctrine that when people's hearts were sinful they needed regulating. Taking out his watch, and holding It up, he said: "Now, here's my watch; suppose It doesn't keep good time now goes too fast, and now too slow what 6ball I do with it?" "Sell it," promptly replied a boy. Harper's Magazine. M IF DISCOURAGED TRY DR. WILLIAMS' PINK PILL3 r On YOUR RHEUMATISM. The Pill Have Cured the Disease la Almost Every Form and Even in Advanced Stages. Rheumatism is a painful inflamma tion of the muscles or of the coverings of the joints and is sometimes accom panied by swelling1. The pain is sharp aud shooting aud does not confine itself to any one tnrt of tho bodv. but after ettling iu one joint or muscle for a time, leaves it and passes on to another. The most dangerous tendency ot b.e disease is to attack tho heart. Exteru4 applications may give relief from pain for a timo but tho disease ounnot cured until th blood is purified. Dr. Williams Pink Pills are the best medi cine for this purpose as their action in directly on the blood, matin ic riHi red and healthy. When the blood i pure there can be no rheumatism. Mrs. Ellen A. Russell, of South Goff St., Auburn, Me., says: "I ha4 la sick for fifteen years from impure blood, brought on by overwork. My heart waa weak and my hands colorless. I waa troubled wilh Indigestion and remit ing rpells, which came on every few mont ha. I had no appetite and used to have ivf fainting spells, falling down when . nay work. I freonentlr felt nnmh all orer. My Lead ached continuously for uo ram. n "About two years ago I began tc feel rheumatism in wv joiuts. vhirh ad lame I could hardly walk. My joir were swouen ana painea me tembry. "Dr. Williams' Pink Pills wer raa. emmended to me by a friend, after I liad foiled to get well from the doctor! treatment. When I began taking the Pilla, the rhtnmatism was at its worst. I had taken oolj a few boxes, whn the headaclios stormed and not lnn ft.. ward I felf the pain in my joii la I, coming les and less, until tbAr waa none at aU. The stiffness was gone aixl I hare nevr had any return of tho H.n. matisa." Dr. Williams' Pink Pills uch diseases as nervous and geuerai debility, indigestion, nervous headac le neuralgia and even partial paralysis and locomotor ataxia. As a tonio for the blood and nerves they are unequalled iiA I5inp.hlet 0a "leases of th Jslood" andacorvof ourdir-t. Krv ;m be sent froe oa request to anyone inter csted. Dr. Williams. Pink Pills are sold by au druggists, or aeut. noRtnai i ir.,.i, ui piiio, oo cents tmriior.iT for f3.60, by the Dr. Williams Medicina J Company, Schenectady, N. X