-
A CITAXCE XESTIXO
ETNOrSIS OF l'REVIOUs CHAPTER?.
Lord Ga'ton Verner Is a handsome, but tins cmpalous member or society. He has
tired or his vomi;r mid beautiful wite. To rid himself of her he has contrived to throw
into her company Lord Wyvis. a man of his own unscrupulous set. Lady Vemerdlscovcrs
his object and determines to avoid public scandal at any cost.
C1IAPTEK IV.
Ont of the day and night
. AJoyhastaUcnflUlit;
Fresh sprmi and uinnicr.and winter hoar,
Hove my Jaint heart with grief, but with
UclUlit
So more O never more!
It is late when Rhoda Terner enters Lady
Baring's drawing room. The room beyond
that again lias been nun wide, and one of
the amateur concerts bo dear to the soul of
the Barings is in full siring. Lady Barius
a fat, lforid woman, more like a cook
than the daughter of a baronet, has at 55
found her mission in life. It is an old, old
mission the desire to introduce genius to
lorce it, indeed upon an ungrateful world.
3Iusic is the talent in which she has con
centrated all her energy. Anyone who can
produce a sky note or one de profundus, or
cnoce who can come forward and play
with anv Ecrt of proficiency upon the "cor
net, Cute, harp, tackbut. psaltery, dulci
mer." or any other kind of instrument, the
stianger the better, was sure of her warm
est interest. She had, however, "gone
one" better ihan her compeers in this line;
be had decided on encouraging the genius
of the upper classes in preferenceto that
lif the great unwashed. Lady Baring un
less something tremendousH clever turned
np resolutely kept her lace averted from j
the slums. j
Xeedless to say she is in high demand,
ind that her receptions are cronded by the
very best people. Every one, says some
one (a wise one) likes to hear his own
voice, ("her" was the original pronoun, but
that was obviously a mistake), and to hear
It uplifted in song'best of olL "And really
managers and that class of horrid people,
you know, are soaverte to pushing forward
tnyone who happens to be of any sort of
decent birth, don't you know, that ."
Xiadj- Baring's rooms throughout the tea
son are crowded with the flower of the aris
tocracv. Lady Gertrude Ihis, and the Hon.
Allied That, who have long pined in secret
to display their talents to a wondering
world, have at last had an opening given
them. They avail themselves of it gener
ously; and all their sisters aud cousins and
nunis follow in their train, and all their
edininng relations follow in their train, so
that quite a goodlv assemblage may be seen
tt Ladv Baring's house evry now and then
Ironi 7 to 9 during the season. Besides
which another advantage is to be gleaned
Ironi her parties by these titled and aspiring
amateurs. After iiisdnguishing themselves
during an tntire season, they may surely
count on a successful run in the provinces,
may hope for good houses in the country
V houses once August has set in.
Sometimes, however, genius does smile
upon the upper ten. It has smiled upon
Brenda Bowcn, and given hr a voice
creatlv to be envied a clcar,swest soprano,
1 rich in beauty. 2ot a very powerful voice,
but cultivated, warm, and thrilling.
S:i" had just finished singing as hercousin
'Bliorla enters the room, and as yet the
plaudits hate not died away. A little
break in the crowd permits her to make her
way to Lady Verner, who has received her
hostess greeting, with a little loing scold
ing for being so late, and is now standing
rear a tall screen banked with palms.
"At last, llhoda!" says Jliss Bowen,
diving between two giiautie people, and
coming up ajain close to her cousin. She
is followed by Gerald Kenrick. "Ve gave
you up."
"We?" questions Lady Verner, with a
tmile, mirthless but ery kind, with a
iljpht giane- from her to Gerald.
'ljM.rjboiy, 1 mean. And do you know
I put off my sung from time to time think
ing you would like to hear it? It is a new
one. You would like it. I am sure."
"It's name'.'" Lady Verner is still smil
ing, but her manner is brief, and it seems to
Kenrick, who is watching her, that it is
with difficulty sl.e rouses herself so fir as to
peak at alL Certainlv her thoughts are
not with Brenda, they are much farther
nne'.d.
" 0 Happy Life!" " says Brenda, who
has not seen Henrick's agonized glance at
licr.
Jihoda comes slowly back from her own
thoughts.
"A lovely title," she says slowly. "Life
fhouldbe happv." She looks at'the girL
"I hope" sweetly "yonis will be."
She sighs, and once again her eyes wan
der; they seem to be searching the" crowd,
as if wanting to find somebody.
"Are you ill, Khoda?" asks Brenda anx
iously. The pallor of Lady Vomer's calm face
has now at last been seen by her.
"2!Co, not ill," says Lady Verner, with
an involuntary an almost unconscious
emphasis on the last word. "I am only
thinking."
31is Bowcn's eves brighten with the fire
of battle. Thinking! Ot what? po0r dar
ling thizj. Of that monster's wickedness,
no doubt. And vet, how impossible to say
anything to declare one'i sympathv.
"They say thinking gives wrinkles,"
says she ligntlv, though her eyes are full of
tean. "Khoda, don't think. 5Touare too
pret:v for wrinkles."
"Unnkles are Srstshadowf of the grave,"
say Lady Verner smiling.
Vcfc. "That U why yon should avoid
them. The glare Is hateful."
"Oh, no. It means rest," say her cousin,
still smiling. "Little girls like you do
not kntw that. And if they knew, would
not care. Von Lave no longing for the
goodici'g ret tLat others have. It will
come to -, r.u."
".Never'', sn Brenda, almoit vehemtnt
!v. "Isha'.lncvernt to die."
"Xo? rerhaos not, then."
"And you jtljoda," questions the girl
eagerly, "yoa Jo not want to die?"
'To "cis to rot" quotes Iady Verner In
a curious tone. "That Inst is a hateful
word. And yet to uio "
Kenrick' with soma impatience breaks
Into the conversation.
"I don't believe anybody- yet wanted
AT THE EECEPTIOX
honestly to die' savs he. "And yon
Ehoda "
"Life has some charm for you, too, be
lieve me, if not now in the future." He
speaks openly, as if hardly dreading her
displeasure, and indeed she is not dis
pleased. Her eyes have a very kindly light
in them as they rest on him.
"That is a good proDheey," says she
gently. 1 shall remember it. It should
bring me luck. "Who is that singing now?"
"Lady Gertrude, I think, by the way she
is shrieking," says Brenda," interested at
once.
"Xol Mrs. Browne," says Kenrick.
"Airs. Browne? Nonsense."
"It is Mrs. Browne, I'm certain, for all
that"
"If I said white, you would say black,"
says Miss Bowen, with a little tilt of her
shoulder in his direction.
"I didn't say Black, however, I said
Browne," returns he, a little nettled.
"i"ou can say what vou like!" i She al
most turns her back on him, and this brings
her once more face to face with Rhoda.
"What are you thinking of, Khoda?" asks
she idly, struck by the other's rapt gaze.
At this instant somebody gently moves
Brenda aside, and comes up to Lady Ver
ner. "I had despaired!" gays this new comer
in a low tone.
Lady Verner's movement toward him
can hardly be called a start, yet it savors of
it. She gives him her hand for a moment,
but no word.
"I have been watching yon," says Lord
"Wyvis, "for the past three "minutes. That
was after my despair had given way to
what shall I call it?"
"Is it worth giving a name to?" Tery
coldly. .
"I "think so! I was watching yon, and it
seemed to me that you were
"What?"
"Looking for somebody."
"True," says she, deliberately. "1 was
looking for ybn."
A snift wave of color dyes "Wyvis" face.
"For me?" says he, stammering like a
schoolboy.
"for you," calmly. "Take me some
where out of this, t want to speak with
von alone."
CHAPTER V.
"War, war Is still the cry war even to the
knire.
'Oh, how nnhappy she looks!"
Brenda, turning to Gerald Kenrick.
says
"Very," shortly.
"How unsympathetic you are! One
would think you didn't care a button about
her.'
"If I said that to you, there might be
some scnse in it."
"To me!"
"Certainlv, to you."
"What do you mean, Kenrick?" with
awful dignity.
"Well, I think you needn't have told her
the name of that song."
"What song?"
"'O, Happy Life!' Is her life so happy
that you need remind her that others are
happier?"
"Do you mean to say, "growing very pink
with grief aud anger, "that you thought I
meant to to "
"Of course not. Only it was ill-timed, to
say the least ot it.""
"I do hate a scold! retorts Miss Bowen,
with a crushing little glance at him.
"So do I," says Kenrick, returning her
glance with interest.
"The one," says Brenda, slowly, "who
could deliberately oflend Khoda must be a
wretch. Am 1 a wretch?"
"Vou know I did not say that, Brenda."
"You said something very like it. But I
am not thinking of you." scornfully. "I
am thinking of Khda. Do you "really
think her life is so unhanpy so nnhappy
I mean that she has no joy in it no de
light?". "I think she has a bad husband," returns
he, shortly.
"But so many people have bad husbands.
There is Clara Hume, and Mrs. Erskine,
and May Flower, and "
An energetic touch from her cousin silen
ces her for a moment.
"I really do wish," says he, "that you
would look round you before talking such
outrageous scandal. Mrs. Flower was at
vout elbow, almost, when you mentioned
licr name."
"No!" with wide eyes of amazement
"Who was with her?"
"Oh. never mind," says he, reddening.
"May Flower is hardly as unsophisticated
as her name might imply."
"She didn't hear mc?" anxiously.
"I hope not," says Kenrick, who never
theless feels it would not concern Mrs.
Flower much even if she had heard.
"Then that's all right," says Brenda. "I
do hate being heard. It makes one feel so
horrid. By the bye, who was the man who
spoce to Khoda?"
"I don't know," reluctantly.
"You don't know! "Why, I saw him nod
to you."
"Oh. that!" very clumsily; "that was
Lord "Wyvis."
"Wa3 it, really? I've heard so much
about him. A very ugly man, alter all."
"Hideous."
"X o. 2fot hideous. A nice face, I
thought; but ugly."
"You are easily pleased, I must say."
"A rare virtue"," says someone coming up
at tbh moment, and speaking to Brenda
over Ksnrick's shoulder. "The curse of
this generation lies in the act that every
one refuse to be pleased with anything
whatsoever. "We analvze, scrutinize, we
idealize, until we don't know what it is we
honestly do admire and what e don't"
His tone is sparkling, his smile scarcely
less so. He is Quite a contrast to hi
brother, Gerald Kenrick, who perhaps has
a tendency toward gloom gloom fostered
by, if not indeed born of, Mis Bowen'
little malignant turn' and twists and all
round unsatisfactory conduct toward him.
This other Kenrick Tom is, however,
devoid of all melancholy, and is indeed as
happy-go-lucky a person, and one as tull of
life and spirits as one need wish to find. He
is older than Gerald by three years, yet
vounger than him by quite as much, if
iighUheartecjness is to be taken into
account
"Who are you pleased with now?" asks
Tom. He still addresses Brenda.
"Lord "Wvvis," says she with a defiant
glance at Gerald, who responds to it gener
ously. Tom Kenrick looks amused.
"Fortune favors him," say he. "He
must be the bravest man alive. ' 'None but
the brave,' you know w And where
docs his fortune lie, I wonder. In his
face?"
"Oh, never mind his face," says Miss
Bowcn, throwing up her head in a little
petulant fashion. "His face doesn't mat
ter." "Certainly not Nothing matters nowa
days. That's what makes us all so happy.
How even your face "
"Well," laughing (Tom always makes
her laugh), "what's wrong with mv face?"
"Ah! What indeed. I shouldn't dare to
go into that To be ugly is a fault, no
doubt, but to be too lovely! Thatl" with a
reproachful glance, "that is a fault far
greater."
"That is Edie Browne's fault," says Miss
Bowen, with admirable promptitude, at
which Tom Kenrick laughs, and if so in
souciant a youth could so far forget him
self, changes color faintly.
His brother, who has been looking over
their heads for the past three minutes, with
the open intention of letting them sec he
takes no interest in such frivolous proceed
ings, now descends to earth once more.
"I see Verner making signs to you, Tom.
He evidentlv wants you to go to him."
"It's flatte'ring," says Tom. "But I'm
afraid he will be very mnch 'in want' be
fore I go to him."
"Ah! you dislike him, too," savs Brenda.
"Detestable man. The ways he treats
Khoda Oh! it is impossible to speak
of it"
"Evidently not," says Gerald, disagreeably.
f ; 1 III n 1 1 IfeM Sill
" Iff f p 'Slfr'
BHODA TIELDED AXD LORD WTVIS KISSED HEU HAND.
"Evidently yes," says she, indignantly.
"What a temper you have, Gerald! Would
you defend Sir Gaston? Actually I think
you would. Well, 'Birds of a feather' we
all know the old adage. Fancy you np.
proving of that dreadful man; I declare the
more I hear about men the more hateful I
think them."
"You can't have heard much about me,"
interposes Tom Kenrick, mildly.
"Oh, you! I hear of little else morning,
noon and night," with a little contemptuous
lift of her right shoulder, the shoulder near
him; she is angry enough now to be unkind
even to Tom. But Tom is proof against un
kindness of this sort He beams on her.
"How nice!" savs he ecstatically. "And
may I ask who it is discourses on my charms
to you, morning, noon and night? Are you
sure about the niaht? It seems a little, a
verv little too much."
"Not Edie Browne, at all eventsl" says
Miss Bowen, whereon Mr. Kenrick acknowl
edges himself defeated, he gives her an
admiring smile, bows profoundly, and beats
a precipitnte retreat
Brenda, looking after him, lanzhs. Gerald
Kenrick, who had turned away after her last
retort to him, and has therefore heard noth
ing of the end of the conversation, miuin
terprets the smile.
'Tom is amusing," say he, his eyes on
the ground.
"Verv," drvlv.
"He suits you?"
"As well as most people."
"Better than I do, anyway."
"I really don't see, Gerald, why you
should make a point of that I should
think it' would be a matter of the most per
fect indifference to you whether you suited
me or not"
"And to you also?"
"Well '."
"Your lace is even more eloquent than
vourtone. I should not suit you then?"
There is inquiry in his voice.
"I wonder what you mean?" savs she,
lifting her bouquet to her lips, and yawn
ing, somewhat openly if delicately be
hind it
"Not much. Only if I suited you; if I
were your suitor "
A suilden movement of the girl's fan
checks him. She has dropped it with a
vehement clash to her side, and is now look
ing at him curiously from under her long
dark lashes. He rebellious little mouth
has taken a haughty curve.
"Now do remember," said she, "that
there is to be none of that It isn't because
auntie wishes you to be in love with me
that necessarily you must be so. You,"
sarcastically; "are a model nephew, no
doubt, but obedience may go too far. I'll
let you off your prettv speeches. I'll "
"You arc too good," interrupts he coldly,
his anger very badly subdued. "My 'pretty
speeches' are always few and far between,
and as for that last, I did not mean it to be
pretty at all. And as for obedience, do you
really believe that toplease anyone I should
say what I did not mean?"
"Yet you certainly said something abont
being my suitor," says she, with a little
aggressive tilting of her chin. It is too
much for Gerald.
"Did I?" said he, with a feeling in his
throat as though he was choking. "I take
it back if I did. I should not presume to
pose as a suitor for jour handl" .,
"Well, now, remember you have said
that," says she, angry in her turn. "And
that pause you, made. I shan't forget that
pause. For 'presume' rend 'care,' and your
speech has truth in it It is a good thing to
lie? Keally, Gerald, I cannot see that be
cause auntie wishes you to marry me you
should be so outrageously rude to me."
"I must beg you to understand once for
all, Brenda," with suppressed fire, "that I
never lie; and that I do not permit people
to tell me that I do."
"Do you permit people id" tell you that
you are the most disagreeable person in the
world?"
"I am sorry if I am disagreeable," icily.
"Ah I That is concession,"
"As to Lady Caryafort wishing me to
marry you" "
"Yes?" saucily.
"She is quite &a anxious, I assure you,
that you should'marry me."
Brenda, whose sense of .humor is strong,
after a slight strngzle with herself bursts
ont laughing. ,
"Well she may wish!" says she, with a
nanty little moue.
This, of course, may mean anything or
nothing. To Gerald's jealous mind it means
death to bis hopes.
"Am I to understand," begins he, and
then finds he doesn't know how to go on,
especially with that little lovely wicked
face laughing at him all the time. "What
am I to understand?" cries he at last, des
perately. "That- I am hungry," declares she
promptly. "Is thero nothing to'cat here?
I'm starving. Do take me where sand
witches may be found." v
She tucks her arm daintily into his, and
with all the air of one who has never said
nu unkindword in her life, leads htm tri
umphantly out of the room.
CHAPTER VL
Queen, when tlie'clny is mv coverlet.
When 1 am dead, and when you ni e gray.
Vow, whero the grass ot thegiavels wet
"I shall never lorgot till my dying day."
The lights in the conservatory are burn
ing low. The perfume of the flowers grows
fainter. It is just before the dawn, that
marks the summer hours. "When Khoda had
asked Lord "Wyvis to give her a little time
with him alone, they had moved with one
consent towards the nearest sitting out
place, but on their wav there had been
stopped. So many people knew aud ad
mired Khoda that her short walk from
room to room was a triumphal march, and
finally Lord Malcoin Earle coming up and
claiming her for a tete-a-tete that promised
to last indefinitely, frustrated her original
intention.
Lord Malcolm was an old man, and of the
very best the world could produce, and
Khoda could scarcely say him nay. With
a heavy heart, then, but a brilliant smile,
she sat with him for half an hour or so, and
then drifted elsewhere, always with a heart
seared, scorched, miserable, panting for a
means of delivery from her overwhelming
trouble. In Wyvis she believed such de
livery might be found. At all events she
was resolved to cast her all upon the die
where he was concerned.
And yet the long night hid dragged
through, and'no opportunity was hers until
now. It is delightful to bo sought and ad
mired, but such delights have their draw
backs. Rhoda's beautiful face has given
her so many friends that it is difficult for
her to obscure herself even for five minutes
without inquiry being made as to where
she is now, or then, or any other time.
The night has worn itself almost out, in
deed, and still she has lingered she who
is always the last to come, the first to leave
every bouse. Lingered until at last most
of her acquaintances have dropped away,
and she is free to say what her heart is
charged with to Lord Vyvis.
He is standing beside her now; expectant,
eager, surprised always! She has beenkso
cold hitherto, but now!
He is a tall man taller than Verner
even, and muclubetter preserved. He is a
bi man, too, but extremely plain. His
nose is much too sm ill, his mouth too lare,
his eyes light grey a hideous color. They
say the face is the index of the mind. It so,
and gossip of Lord Wyvis be true, his face
should be indeed repulsive: yet it is far
from that. Ugly as Nature has assuredly
lormed his features his lace is still a kindly
one it dissipated.
"At last-!" says he, bending over Rhoda.
He had waited fr her to spe.tk, but she
sat silcut since their entry into this sweet
spot of ferns and flowers and changing
lights, and impatience has driven him to
speech.
His voice rouses her to sudden action.
'Lord Wyvis," says she, turning to him
a pale face, exquisite in its grief and
despair, "I have asked you to give a
moment or two, that I might " she
pauses, and her very lip3 grow white.
"That I might," taintlyt "throw myself
upon your mercy!"
lie hushes a darK red ana instinctively
moves a step away lrom her. What does
she mean? What is it? Is the one honest
love ot his life to get its reward at last? In
one wild moment this hope sways and be
guiles him, then dies, dies lorever. He has
looked into her waiting eyes.
"On mine!" he stammers, feeling the
world as well as lojo all lost' Nothing re
mains. His heartsinks within him.
"Yours! Yours only!" -says she, leaning
iomard.- She is trembling. "Your mercy."
It seems impossible for her to go on.
Looking at her he gauges exactly the depth
of the agony she is enduring at having thus
to appeal to mm anu uie imuuuuuuu.
This he feels instinctively to be an incis
ive moment a cutting asunder of all past
kindly relations it is to be indeed an end
of 'all things so far as he and she are con
cerned. To her this will mean nothing. To
him the whole of life.
If she could have loved him! If
He knows by heart all her relations with
her husband his treachery, deceit, du
plicity, all the scandalous undercurrents,
the falsity of his life, the abominations
that desecrate her hearthstone day by day;
they may be unknown to her, save from tho
filterings that reach her through her dear
est iriendrf, but to him thoy are as tales
that are told. And that she should be tied
to such a man. Whilst he, he who could
willingly lay down bis 1116 to serve her, is
as nought to her nought.
If she could have loved him, such love
a hers would have been r redemption.
What sin could tempt him ua her loving
arms as safeguard? Her love would have
mads him another man a good man! He
laughs in his heart as this nought comes to
him. A sad and mirthless laugh!
"Go on," says he, very gently.
"It is hard to say if," says Lady Verner,
lowly, and with great difficulty. Truly
her tongue is cleaving to the roof of her
mouth. "Bat Ihear P ",
she breaks off, and beginsagain desperately.
"It lias been said," whispers she faintly,
"by people in our set, that that you"
Her voice dies away. If she had "been s
mere schoolgirl in her teens she could not
have stammered over it more hopelessly;
more, shamefacedly. She feels this herself,
and the knowledge renders her even more
cruelly nervous than she would otherwise
have been.
Wyvia' love for her is of the olass sympa
thetic. He knows every throb of agony she
is enduring, aud pitying her from his soul
be comes to the rescue.
"That I love youl" supplies he gravely.
"Yes, A falsehood. Surely a falsehood!"
exclaims she, vehemently. She raises her
eyeB. She leans toward him and gives him
a glance that is almost impassioned in its
entreaty. He would have responded to it
in the spirit she desired of him but for some
force within him stronger even than his
longing to please her. He could not bring
himself to deny his love for her!
"It was not a falsehood," says he, in a
low tone, but with deliberation. Silence
follows bis speech. A silence absolute,
save for the sad drip-drip of the water into
the fountain behind them, and the faint,
curious music of the leaves unfolding and
unfolding, as the dawn draws near.
He has hardly dared to look at her, yet
he knows she is looking at him.
"Is this all all you can do for me?" says
she at last
"How could it be a falsehood?" cries he
like one in pain. "Would yon make me a
liar? I do loye yon; and you know it"
'No. no:" persists she. with a little
Lshivcr of disgust; she shrins back from him.
It is quite plain to him that she loots witu
horror on the thought that be loves her.
"Let that pass!" says' he, cut to the very
soul bv her shrinking from him. "Indeed,
why should it concern you at all? What of
it then, this love of mine? What difference
docs it make to you? To youl" for the
first timo-a note of passion breaks the calm
ness of his tone. "To you!" his voice sink
ing, "who so certainly "do not love me."
"I love no one," returns she coldly. "I
desire to love no one. I have never loved
any man in all my life, and I" gloomily
"pray Go'd Tnever "may!"
"Do not pray that," say he. "I, who
wish you well, and who dare not hope for
any good result from my petition, would
pray you to take that prayer from oil your
lips."
"I would beg ynu in tnm," says she
suddenly, "to take no interest at all in any
of my doings."
Wvvis looks at her.
"Is that all?" asks he. . '
"Yes, all."
"More, surely." says he.
"Thi3 much, then," says she, with tears
in her lovely eyes. "It seems the world is
making gossip of my good name. That it
is connecting it with yours I Oh !" pale
and trembling, "how am I to explain it to
you? It appears that society begins to re
gard me as one who "
Speech fails her her very lips grow
white. "
"Not another word," says Wyvis, inter
rupting her with almost savage violence.
"Not one. ' "Who dared breathe such a
calumny? It is unworthy of you even to
repeat it What a damnable invention.
"A painful one at least for me."
It is plain to him now that she is strug
gling with her tears. But even as he thinks
on this she recovers herself, and lifting her
lace confronts him with an expression both
strong,and earnest
"I told you I wished to speak with you,"
savs she steadily. "You know now why.
All I ask all I want of you is, that you
should forget you ever knew me that you
would of your goodness, from this hour,
blot me out of you life."
"All this is about your life," says he,
very pale, "flosr about mine?"
"Yours?"
"I have a life," says he, with an odd sort
of smile. "It may not have occurred to
you, but vet, I assure you, I have a life
of some sort Whatofit?"
She is looking at him, but answer of any
kind seems impossible to her.
"I suppose I ought to apologize to you
for bringing such a trivial matter as "my
life into the subject at all," cays he, with a
kind ot satire that breathes only of despair.
"Pray forgive me. You spoke just now;
you desired somethlngof me "
"Only forgetfulness," says she huskily.
"Forget me. Let me be to you as though" I
never had been as a dream in the night
Forget mc!"
"Forgetfulness is the one good gift denied
bv the sods to men," says he. "We do not
all dwe.ll by Lethe."
"Ah. then, act as if you had dweltthere,"
cries she. "As if you had forgotten. You
say you you you ." She hesitates.
Her eyes sink to the gronnd. "It is an in
sult to myself," says she, "yet I must re
mind you that a while since you said you
loved "me!"
"It was not only said, but meant," re
turns he almost sullenly.
"If that is true," says she, eagerly bend
ing forward so as to catch his reluctant
glace, "hear me now. If if I have been
so unhappy as to awaken such a sentiment
as love within you, then take pity on me.
I entreat you because ot that lore to have
pity on me, and to let your acquaintance
with me end from this hour.
Wyvis turns a searching glace on her a
glance replete with rage and misery.
"Who has dared to accuse you?" asks he,
sternly.
She is silent
"Verner?"
She is still silent, but the faint soft
growth ot color on her cheeks speaks for
her.
"Verner!" says he again, this time the
word an affirmation rather than a question.
He, draws back from her as it shocked.
Knowing Verner even as he does, this
depth of infamy is too much for him. He
her husband, to lower her to the .very
dust! He! the possessor of this incompara
ble jewel! It seems inconceivable. He to
accne lier!
A horrible touch of irony clings about it
all. Here she is bound to a man who would
gladly an I by the basest means rid himself
of her, whils't another man stands by who
would give his soul almost to succour, de
fend and cherish her, till life deserted his
poor clay. And lo! to both men she is
equally indifferent and cold as ice in Janu
ary. Is there not injustice somewhere? Why
should she have married a man unkind to
her, when, being indifferent to all men, she
might have married a man who would have
thought the world well lost could it have
purchased her a jewel, longed for?
"It is Verner, then?" says he,' slowly.
"Well; and what is it vou want me to do?"
"To help me."
"I see. He looks at her long and earn
estly. "Verner makes yon unhappy. Some
women, when are they unhappy "
"Some women!" she interrupts him, not
hurriedly, yet decidedly. "You must not
class me!" says she with a palo smile. ' "I
am not as many other women are; I am un
happier than many of them. I have my
misfortunes as my sole love; and I dwell on
them, as,othcrs dwell upon their joys. It
fills my life. Extremes meet," says she,
lifting " her eyes, brilliant with tears and
misery to Wyvis' face. "Joy misery!
They "are near akin."
'There is but the step oyer," says he,
qnickly.
"How? From joy to "
"No. Either way.- From misery to
joy."
She stands up suddenly.
"There is no such step in my case," says
she, coldly, bautily. "I asked you to help
me. It was too much to ask, perhaps."
"No." Ho pauses; then, "I caD help
you, and I will, though it costs me all I
care for."
"You promisel" says she, eagerly.
"I swear it" He takes her hand and
with the deepen, the most unmistakable
respect, presses it gently.
"This is the last time"," says he, slowly,
"that I shall be a cause ot' annoyance to
yon. This is, indeed, our last meeting."
"You mean?" says she. She has not
withdrawn her hand, and is looking up at
him, her whole heart in her eves. What
is it he means? Oh, it he will but go
go far away.
"That next week I shall beyond reach
of you beyond reach of heaven." He
laughs as he ays this," but his "laughter,
with some pain, is fraught"
To be continued next Sunday.
Copyright, 1S9Z, by Sirs. Hunserford.
THisrsto the Introduction of Salvation
Oil young bloylors need not fear a fall. SSo.
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
wSfintoTRK
tjiaOwrtDR.
ygfiSt.'
Ausmtsa rvttv&trt t
The Zieading Amusement Resort
lor Ladles and Children.
BEGINNING
MONDAY, OCT. 31.
theater:
. JOSEPH 1
AND
And a competent company in the great
melodrama by 3. D. Clifton,
B Wsils feeiG-
Introducing tho mechanical working saw
mill. A macniflcent scenic production.
.also introducing the Ureat
BLACKSMITH QUARTET.
CAST OF CHARACTER
Roxie, iroo'l as gold Sliss Louisa Agnott
Nellie Raymond, an only child,
Ml3 Lizzie Bassell
Mrs. Raymond, the blacksmith's wife....
Miss Jennie Holt
Mary, mi outcast Miss Marzclla Forrest
Wm. Semour, a counterfeiter
Mr. Orson Clifford
Jim. true to the last. ...Mr. Wm. Dockstadcr
Robert Graham, a detective
Mr. Harry Burton
Joe Williams, a bard case :....
Mr. Charles Osborn
Wm. Raymond, the blacksmith
Mr. Joseph I). Clifton
curio hall:
TURTLE GEORGE,
The Humsn Bottle of Ink. The Kin-; Laugh
Maker. Tho Dark Complected
.Nondescript.
RATTLESNAKE TOM
The Serpent Kins, and his den of venomous
SNAKES, consisting of nearly every
snako known to scieuce in
the world.
PROP. MARTINQUE,
The Parisian Wax Flower Artist. Every
lady visitor is entitled to a handsome
bouquet of wax flowers free
of any charge whatever.
LITTLE BULLETS,
The smallets oxon in the world. Sixvears
Of age. Height 6 inches. Weishs 200
pounds, and as perfect in form
as the largest Texas steer.
First appearance in America. Just from
Europe,
PROP. STRASBURG,
And His Wonderful
ADMISSION 10 OTS.
Next Week LEONZO BROS, and the
preatest Acting Do.rs in the World, "Spot,"
'Panthei"and "Lion."
HARRIS'THEATER.
Mrs. P. Hums R. L. Biltton, T. F. Dean,
Pioprietors and Managers.
TOPULAU PRICES
Always prevail at Harris' Theater.
10, 15 AND 25 CENTS.
WEEK COMMENCING MONDAY.DCTflBER 31
Every Afternoon and Evening.
E. J. Hassan's Great Comedy Drama,
ONE THFE
FINEST!
MAGNIFICENT SCENIC EFFECTS.
rf MUSIC!
TvTTrr jso.NGst
-J- -J ' VV (DANCES!
EB
SPECIAL NOTICE Grand Special Son-
venir Matinees nill ho alven on Tcesdat
and Fkidat for Children. i.noh little
Kirl will rpceive .1 l-andsome CHina Doll
(dressed). Everv bov mi expensive Base
ball. .Ul.NUKKAbLlfl 1'liiULS.
BS
83
Week of Nov. 7 "Waifs of New York."
OC30-43
EDENvMUSEE
AND FAMILY THEATER.
Handsomest in America.
WEEK COMMENCING OCTOBER 21.
OF
TnE
SEASON.
A Charming Entertammmt.
THE TVOBLD-EENOWNED MLLE.
EUGENIE GARREHA,
The Greatest of All Bird Educators.
L'HIppodrome, Paris, 300 nights: Cirque,
Madrid, 300 nizlits; Madison Square, New
York, with Barnum, 6 weeks.
A GENUINE SENSATION.
ORSANOF
Magnetic Wire-Haired Man.
IN THE THEATER:
St
Williams k Barton's
AUSTRALIAN
NOVELTIES.
E. TEIID'S
DON'T MISS
THIS GREAT ENTERTAINMENT.
10 Ctsv-ADIVIISSIONHO Cts,
octo-l
'
'NETV ADVEKTISEMENTS.
THE ALVIN
CHABXES L. DAVIS
70 EIRE
Week
MO
SOCTOBBB 31,
MATINEES WEDNESDAY AND SATURDAY.
JOSEPH ARTHUR'S DISTINGUISHED COMEDY DRAMA,
Blue
With its wealth of beautiful scenery and artistic mechanical effects. A
dramatic triumph unequaled in- stage annals. The original
production which ran for 360 performances at the
Fourteenth Street Theater, New York.
ITS PROMINENT FEATURES ARE:
THE QUAINT COUNTRYBAND,' ;
THE BARBECUE,
THRILLING SAW MILL SCENE,
RUSTIC QUARTETTE, .
SHOWER OF APPLEBLOOM,
LIVE ANGUS BULL.
ROSENQUEST & ARTHUR, Proprietors and Managers.
Nor. 7 Mr. Richard Mansfield in Repertoire.
DUOUES
NE
THIS WEEK
COSIH E5CI30
PIONDAY
Pittsburg's LeadingTheatsr.
IOF A TRULY
AMERICA'S
PKESS AND PUBLIC
PITLI.T INDORSED
Regarding the Tremendous
Comedy
DARTMOOR!
Conceded by all who have seen it to be
A SECOND JIM THE PENMAN.
Presented by the
GREAT
Romantic Actor,
J. H. GIUOUR,
BETTINA GTRARD,
LITTLE MARGUERITE FIELDS.
MATINEES WEDNESDAY AND SATURDAY.
Wednesday Matinee Best Seats 50 Cents.
Next Week SADIE SCANLAN
TUIXITJ-.
WEEK COMMENCING
MONDAY, N0V.7.
Erin's Nightingale, Sweet
SADIE
SCANLA
In her phenomonally successful
Irish Comedy,
OC3018
ALVIN EXTRA.
WEEK COMMENCING'
Monday, Nov. 7.
Only Matinee Saturday.
MR.
RICHARD
MANSFIELD'
-AND
HIS STOCK COMPANY,
In the follon-ing reDertoIre:
HIE THEATER
I .
Monday J Beau Brummsll.
Tuesday The Scarlet Letter.
Wednesday A Parisian Romance.
Thursday leroTS,yi5,graSSItt.
Friday B:au Brummell.
Sat. Mat. J Beau Brnmmall.
Sat. Ev'g. j Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Sale of Seats opens Thursday morning.
OC30-70
ACTUAL RESULTS
Show DISPATCH adlets to be
most profitable to advertisers.
Try them.
1 "- -
THEATER.
OWNER AITD MANAGES,
EXITS 70
eans
OC2S.J5
A GRAND
PRODUCTION
GREAT PLAY.1
ENGLAND'S "Yxg0
Success of Arthur Law's
Drama,
And a Strong
Company,
Including
OWEN WESTFORD,
in "NORA MACHREE."
OC33-17
83 -S3 nRAP. r B3 a
i-si pnuuHn sr iLs
6-
B S ui uiiii uuuui
e-
Mr. E.D. IVlt
.Proprietorand Manager.
0IEHEEK.GDHHEIG'6M0lllir,Dfir.fl.
Matinees Wednesday aud Saturday.
LILLIAN
The grandest of modern plays. The great
est o' young actresses. Realism, spectacle,
comedy, drama combined. A production
completely grand. A great play, grandly
acted, grandly staged.
LEWIS
The Amphitheater nf the Circus. The Fa
mous Horse, Romanoff. The Sisters of Mercy
on the Battlefield. JLiJah. the Man Eating
Tiier. Establishment of Telegraph, Comr
munlcations.
LADY
TbemostgnTgeonscostnmes. Hassan killed
hv Eajah. The Having of the faith carer.
Beautiful scenery. Magnificent uniforms.
m lil m
-
Prices, 15c, 25c. 50c, 75c.
Matinees, 15c, 25c, 50c.
NEST WEEK-POLICE PATEOl
i - OC30-1C3
ACADEMY.
MElMCTOBEni.
MATINEES:
Tuesday, Thursday and 'Saturday.
LILY CLAY'S
COLOSSAL GAIETY COMPANY,
Under the mana;emont or Sam T. Jack.
50 RECOGNIZED ARTISTS 50
Engaged in a programmo of acknowledge
excellence, embracing the Nautical
Burlesque,
J
HAM
WILLIAMS
0. '
An olio ropTeto with novelty and startling
originality. And concluding witu
sensational extravaganza.
MAZEPPA.
Fretty Women, Elegant Costumes. Dellghtr
ful ilosic and Appropriate Sconery
combined to mukohts or
ganization Positively the'Leader.
Honday, Nov. 7 Hyde's Specialty Co.
ocSO-9
Tho Electrical Coustr uctiba & laintsaaira Oo
Electrical Engineers and Contractors.
General Electrical Suppliesalwaysonhand,
1XCAJJ DESCENT LAMPS, ALL VOLT
AGES AT LOWEST PBICES.
Electric Light and jJell Wiring.
J25 FIFTH AVENTXHL '"
deU-sn
Tel. 1771
rituburgi Pa
k6
M:
caf2ffiLi
&&& -iu
ISlKMiMBiHBI
Wfcl2wm&t2g
-fttilF'7 m
jzjzjK 1SjBSIilKP?HSJPPBBiBWIPWIp5':jHS: jwygJ5C5BSBWBBHBplB!3B5PK5&5J JPB3dBaalBlSMBPwtSiCIBBBHWBb