Evening Star Newspaper, July 26, 1890, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C i ; SATURDAY, JULY 26, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES: ON A WELSH MOUNTAIN ee FOLLY AND ITS PENALTY— LOVE AND ITS CURE. ———— BY LILLIAS WASSERMANH. CHAPTER IL. OEL CARRIG, upon ae certain fine morning in August afew years back, wore its gentlest and most pleasing as- pect. Too frequently the giant wrapped himself in his mantle of mist and frowned upon the world. Atsuch times his gray crags —magnified by the density of the atmosphere —loomed out portentous and grand. But upon that August day all the sternness was softened and glorified into beauty. The monntain stood out well against a soft gray aky, asky with great rents in its clouds, be- hind which showed a vivid and intense blue. A streak of silver among the dark heather marked the place where a mountain torrent danced and leaped in the sunshine from crag to crag. had down by the side of this stream came Bronwen Llanaber, herself as much a child of the mountain as it, and also leaping gaily from crag to crag, joyous and happy in the rare sun- shine. Following more clumsily in her wake appeared a young Englishman, who had been botanizing on the heights above. This gentle- man, Mr. George Beldou, was staying at the old gray stone house at the foot of the moun- tain, the house that nestled so snugly in a shel- tered hollow and which belonged to old Gwy- lim Lianuber, the man who farmed the land adjacent to Moel Carrig, and whose oniy child, Bronwen, was now in company with Mr. Bel- don. Bronwen was a spoiled child, the darling of her father, who fancied that the pretty A could do no wrong and who foolish y let her see that he held this opinion. p From her earliest childhood the girl had been conversant with every portion of the big mountain. With no mother to restrain her roving propensities within reasonable limits, she had been accustomed to spend whole days alone there, exploring every nook and cranny in it¢ steep sid She kuew the shape of every boulder that stood out fantastic and curious from the craggy summit, knew where the precipices lay and how to avoid and skirt each bog. Also she knew every particular plant that grew there, and tho utterly unversed in their long Latin a ons, could tell pretty correctly the habits and properties of each. This naturally made her society valuable to Mr. Beldon, an ardent botanist and lover of plants, who had come out of the beaten track in pursuit of his favorite hobby, and who, in this mountain district, found many rare speci- mens hitherto unprocurable by him. It was certainly a profitable hunting ground. Betweeu the stones and in the crannies of the crags nestled many varieties of ferns—as- pieniums and parsley, the mountain bladder aud the scented ferns, The boggy ground be- low was studded with choice orchises and sticay sundews, while cistuses and yellow poppies grew upon ledges of the rocks above. But for such treasures it was necessary to know the locality and where to look. No wonder, therefore, that Bronwen was an acceptable companion to the young bot- nist. But it is well to confess the whole truth. Be- sides all this George Beldon admired pretty girls almost. if not quite, as ardently as he did Fare specimens of the herbaceous genus, and Bronwen Lianaber was a rustic beauty of a somewhat uncommon type. In statur under than over the middle height, but with a perfectly proportioned und graceful figure, a ligure suggesting strength and a healthy phy- Sique, as of one born to endure fatigue and to glory im all the perils of mountaineering, and ulong with this a face of oval contour, with a rich dark bloom upon it, lighted up by a pair of dark gray eyes set off by long, curling lashes. Beautiful as she was in every particular, it was these eyes—dreamy, unfathomable, full of thé poetry of her beloved mountains—that riveted attention to her face. When this pair of mountaineers had de- scended to a somewhat lower level Mr. Beldon, who was growing a trifle fatigued, proposed a halt by the side of the stream. He wished to eort the treasures he had collected that morn- ing, and suggested that while he did so Bron- wen should recount to him some of the wild legends of the country, in which she was well versed. in fairy as well as in natural lore she was — and had frequently beguiled the jong days of rain that summer with some fan- tastic tale or other common to the locality. Mr. Beldon delighted in listening to these stories, the girl so evidently believed every word she said. She told him of the gwragedd annwn or elfin ladies, who frequent the shores of the llyns high up in the mountains and who upon moon- light nights may be seen bathing and sporting there in the clear waters; told how a venturous knight once lay in ambush behind a heap of stones, and, fired by the charms of one of these beautiful bathers, caught her as she the spot where he lay, and, enwrapping her in his coat, held her prisoner until she promised to become his wife. This she did. upon one con- dition, and that condition seemed to her would- be spouse a very easy one, being only that he should never touch her flesh with cold iron. To this he consented ela ly, never dreaming that the condition would prove difficult of fulfill- ment. Years rolied on and the fay became as &u ordinary mortal, proved an excellent wife for her captor and bore him sons and daugh- ters, But there came an inauspicious day, when the husband lost his temper with his horse, which proved restive under the hands of the blacksmith, and in his rage the infuriated man caught up the first missile he could find and threw it at the restive steed. Now this missile, glancing aside, struck the fairy wife, who stood nursing Her intant and watching the shoeing process, and as it happened to be a small piece of irou the mischief was done atonce. With a wail of anguish for the beloved husband and children she was forced to leave. The melan- choly fairy vanished and was lost forever. Bronwen always cried over the sad ending of this story, though she had recounted it hun- dreds of times. But over the more prosaic oue of the farmer who captured one of the fairy kine she felt more amused than sorry. The good people set great store by their cat- tle and seek out for them the juiciest pasture onthe mountain sides. his particular cow Was a choice specimen and proved « treasure to the farmer. Never had he such quantities of butter. milk and cheese to seil—never such fine, healthy caives. Dut fairy treasure is ever Of transient and fleeting description. One day the foolish farmer took it into his head that the cow was growing old and must ueeds be killed. Scarce had he announced this res- lution, however, than a distant voice re- sounded from the overhanging cr: in the ery used to bring cows howe, and lifting his eyes the astonished man saw just for one mo- ment the original owner of the cow standing there. Helter-skelter from field and = came the numerous progeny of the milky mother, and, following feet, ascended the lower slopes of the mountain, where, marvelous to behold the rock at the bottom of the crags opened and the train pomea within. The chagrin of the farmer may e better imagined than described as ke rushed frantically after his herd, to finduothing there but solid rock, for the place where they had eutered closed up behind them immediately Sud appeared exactly as before. Then with low and timorous voice she would speak of those who had spent the night upon the dread summit of Cader Idris and — 0 with the great euchanter who is forced to shat spot until the day of judgment, and how Jome had = — Feasov, and some had died, sud very few had won the giftgt poosy f which = heer a <— air But this morning Bronwen did not a in the mood for acting the part of recontece. “It is only upon nights of moonlight or fire- light when one really cares for those,” she re- lied to his entreaties, in that slow and careful glish which sounded to him so pretty, with lis separation ot words and its emphasis upon the second syliables. ‘Are not the sun and the Sowers eufisiens for us this morning?” And the young man assented to this, wonder- ing a little at her poetic way of looking at na- ture. It was indeed a perfect “F- Across the sides of bens mountains = “ an ever- changin ntasmugoria shadows of the “douda Overhead, on re wing, bovered a hawk, The silence, save for the distant bleating of a sheep or umming the bees — the blossom: heather, was complete, With the sweet, fresh air of the morning mingled right well the scent of beather and fern. George, bis task completed, lay back upon the hiliside with his face upturned to the sky aud felt perfectly content and happy. in his little tin case were two of three plants found by him for the first time and he hada gice girl near him whose presence completed the charm of the scene. Mr. Beidon was not a flirt in the common ac- Ceptation of the word; at least, he would have shuddered at the notion as vulgar and coarse. Bathe could never resist the temptation making love, in a meaningless, foolish sort of way, when a women took his fancy and he was brought for any length of time ito contact And, surely, two months’ sojourn in a lonely goo off from ‘he world by that great chain of mountains, without railways, newspapers or oven telegrams to bring con- tact with society, was some excuse for such pastime. George thought so at any rate, though he might have been somewhat ashamed to own it, And Bronwen was so entirely different to any girl he had ever met; she was so completely a child of the mouuntains—wild, waywa ricious and yet withal perfectly natur: with every emotion speaking from her cyes, her tace, her gestures, in the most irresistible “ Mr. Beldon was what is called a well-princi- pled young man—respectable, decorous, moral. and he would not willingly have harmed the rl. Butitis quite possible to brush the fics from the petals of a flower without plucking it from its stem, and this was the kind of amusement George most affected. Only @ pastime, nota crime. And so long as no sin is committed against the man's moral code— what would you? The flower may be left drooping, faded, scentless, but, then, it ought to be defended by thorns. Well, Bronwen at least was no thornless flower, though the thorns were not in evidence that suany mornin, But she certainly seed the fiery, ungov- ernable temper of hor race. Woe betide those = ventured to hurt her pride or to rouse her With no mother to guide her, only a father who spoiled her and allowed her to do as she chose, the gir! had grown up to believe that she wasa perfect being, morally as well as physically, and that her will ought, in her little domain, ‘to be law. Only one person ever ventured to op her. This was Thomas Gwynne, her half cousin, a young man who helped her father on the farm, to which, along with Bronwen’s hand. it was arranged that he should in time succeed. But, now that Bronwen had grown to womanhood, she thought that on this matter it behooved her to havea say. There were qualities about Thomas which jarred upon her. Even his personal appearance —to which, to do him justice, he never gave s thought—did not please her. He was a typical Welsh mountaineer, loug bodied, short limbed, sturdy, with a somber visage and a Calvinistic turn of thought. If Bronwen found fauit with him, she was by no moans perfect in his eves. Her views were dreamy and unpractical in the extreme, and it was therefore but fit and proper that she should be taken to task by the man who was to have leave to guide her, and that he should instill proper notionsinto her foolish feminine mi jut Bronwen did not wish for any such proper notions. She liked to be told that her ways were the right ways, and that she was the best as well as the prettiest girl in the district. Thomas did not approve of the new inmate of the Carrig house, either, though he was too cautious to express such an opinion, save by dubious hints, when his uncle, old Gwylim, first mooted the question of the young botan- ist’s sojourn at the farm. It was a question of money—of a good round sum in return for simple board and lodging—and on a question of money a man like Thomas is ever prudent. But he was quite sure, nevertheless, that it wosimet comiacive to. Eeeawens growth of isdom that she should be necessarily brought into such familiar intercourse with this Mr. Beldon, who was certain to fill her head with vain and foolish notions, Probably if the botanist had come in the guise of some musty old spectacled professor in place of a good-looking young fellow Thomas would have felt easier in his mind. Besides this, however, he had all a practical man’s mistrust of anything not immediately Juet . It was stupid enough of these poor f artists who sometimes came to the farm, and who required accommodation at the lowest possible rate, to on spoiling paper and canvas in their vain attempts to reproduce the effects of mountain and stream. Stupid enough, because they evidently found it a poor business. But this eternal grubbing and gath- ering of weeds and rubbish, what profit was it like to bring toa man? Therefore was botany intolerable to his stern ¢ommon sense. It is certain that he would have disapproved more than ever of Mr. Beldon had he seen the ad- miring glances and heard the flattering speeches made oer botanist as he lay at Bron- wen's feet upon Moel Carrig that morning. It is very pleasant fooling, but a trifle risky all the same. Ui the subtle influence of the hour the girl grew soft and tender and voiled themselves shyly under their long lashes. Never had she felt so diffident, so self-con- scious. New feelings were coming to life within her and causing delicious trouble in her blood. Poor Bronwen! ll unversed in the dangerous pastime. she was quite ready to fall a victim to the voice that kept arin, her—what in her heart of hearts she believe already—that there was no one fit to compare with her, that she was the etest and most lovable girl in the world. show of reason inher good opinion of charms, No means had she of pitting berself against other attractive girls, for the farmers’ daughters in that scattered district were, for the most ‘t, coarse and commonplace, The moments féw with winged speed and before long Bronwen's hand was clasped in that of George. and perilously near to her face was his own. He did not know how it happened. When he began the amusement he had no idea of going to such lengths; but, alas! men are ever weak when women are charming. “What is this?” he said, pointing to a flower decorating the bosom of gray homespun own. “Why. Bronwen, it is white heather, I declare! Does it also grow on the moun- tain?” “Yes, There is still a little of it left among the purple. Will you have it?” she went on, rather bashfully, offering it to him. He noticed that her hand, unpinning it, shook slightly. At this proof of his power his eye brightened. “You darling!” he said, in a voice so low as to be little more than a whisper. “So you would give me your luck? Yuu see I know the superstition. No, Bronny dear, we will divide itrather!” He parted the piece of heather, and putting one spray in his buttouhole, be trying to replace the other in its original posi- tion. But now it was his turn to feel discomposed. As he touched her his face flushed and she shrank back involuntarily. In a moment his arms closed around her, she was drawn close, and « passionate kiss pressed upon her lips, She gave a low cry of bliss and shyness para and wrenching herself free covered her face with her hands. George sighed deeply and rose to his feet. His passion was as brief as sudden. He felt more than a little ashamed of himself already. What had he done? Made aconfounded ass of himself, he feared! Why couldn't he have let the girl alone when he knew, none better, how inflam- mable he was by nature? Well, the sooner he ran from temptation the better for both, Mui ing @ lame excuse of some important letters which must be written before post time, he went off homeward, leaving Bronwen to follow at her leisure. OHAPTER IL It was to Beldon merely the folly of the moment; but it meant much more than that to poor, ignorant Bronwen. A flood of strong and new sensations was rushing over her, like a great and overwhelm- ing wave, and she gave herself up to them en- tirely, and became lost to all but the delicious dream of happiness and love. To do the girl justice, no sordid taint entered {nto her dream. The petty pride which man: girls in her position might have feltin boing ad- mired by one superior in rank was totally absent from Brouwen’s mind. From sheer ignorance— if trom nothing else—she was a democrat. Liv- ing in a world of her own, a world where social barriers were unknown, she had no idea of their real importance. The solid, material facts of life appeared to her as the unreal, and the idealisms as the oo Her soul was, there- fore, exquisitely and rarely free from any mer- nary or snobbish influence. ‘Thus it was that there seemed to her nothing outrageous in the notion that this gentleman should love a girl whom he pronounced to be so charming and ¢o lovable. But from these blissful dreams she was destined to receive a rake) The ‘iden’ barking of a dog startled her from her meditations, and stream toward the opposite saw that Math, the collie both sorrow and anger contending in his glance. Presentiy her desiant air softened,and the mystical light of new love shone in her eyes. "De not be angry, Thomas. I cunuot help it. My fate has come. If he loves me I must needs love him back.” ‘ “If he loves you? You do well to put in that if.” “Nay,” said the girl, raising her head and glancing proudly at him, “Ido not well! He isa gentleman. Gentlemen do not kiss girls without loving them!” renee There was something almost sublime in the innocence of this specch, and oven Thomas, Angry and incredulous as he was, hesitated before dispelling the delusion. The pathos of her eyex and voice touched the rough man in some tender spot, end his own tone in an- swering her grew more gentle. “Put not your trust in inan, but in God, who knows men’s hearts! ‘Their way4 are not our ways, nor their kisses as the kisses of honest men, who have no time for folly! He is a gen- tleman, as you say,” he went on, after a mo- ment's pause, and, therefore, it is not likely that he will marry the daughter of a oor farmer, but some lady in his own rank of life. It’s no use being vexed with me, Bronny; my omens obliged me to warn you, and I've lone it!” As he finished he whistled for Math and set off down the hill without waiting for Brouwen to continue the conversation. A feeling of deli- cacy caused hishaste. He knew that the girl's pride must have received a heavy blow, and that, when she realized it, she would choose to be alone and unwatched. Probably his zeal for her welfare had injured his own cause, but, if so, he could not help it, He had seen some- ; thing of the world, aud knew that such things as she held to be impossible were of deily oc- currence. If is certain that he left a sore heart behind, it he bore a heavy one with him, Although Bronwen told herself that she did not believe a word of it, and that it was but the outcome of jealousy and spleen, the beautiful gossamer webs which she had been weaving were shattered, the first evanescent glamour of bliss was gone forever. She sat on, her head held proudly on high, until Thomas had completely disappeared from view; then, with a quick gesture of self-aban- donment, threw herself. prone among the heather and the ferns, hand{uls of which she, in an excess of intolerable pain and rage, plucked up by the roots and scattered around her. In mood, as in temper, she was entirely un- governed, and every emotion with her was given its full play. It was a lie—a wicked, un- founded, malicious lie! How was it possible that she. Bronwen Llanaber, the spoiled dar- ling of her father, and of every one else, should be insulted by a show of love, without any meaning—reality in it? It could not be! If it were so she would hate the man so that nothing would be left save— God forgive her! what dreadful thoughts were these that came? No, no, it was not true! She would give no credence to it. Again she could feel those strong young arms around her, that warm kiss on her mouth, She loved him! she loved him! What was the world to them? Let it go. He loved her sufficiently to dare its censure for her sake. So much the better if it frowned upon them. They would but draw the nearer and brave its anger together. Well, was it for her that she was not able to discern at that moment the heart of the man to whom she was giving her ardent affection! Not that that same heart was much worse than others, but of a surety it was a poor thing for a woman to stake her all upon, Compounded of conflicting elemente— of vanity, ambition, weakness, good nature and a longing for admiration. On the whole a slight and unsatisfactory nature was that of George LBeldon, The young fellow was not easy in his mind about his morning's proceedings, He had been playing with fire and, though no scars were visible, he had a miserable consciousness that he had burned his fingers more than a trifle, And yet—considering the force of the aeons nee he not behaved better than would most men under the like circumstances? Confound it! Every fellow kissed a pretty girl now and then, and what worse was any one for the transaction? Nevertheless Bronwen’s face—with its look of awakening passion and intensity—haunted him, and prevented his attaining to any great peace of mind. “I must get out of this,” he muttered, as he turned his specimens of his case and la- beled them carefully. Not all his perplexity cere this methodical performance of a abit, Then his eye fell onthe piece of white heather still decorating his coat, and at the re- membrance it evoked he was weak enough to experience a glow of something not unlike sat- isfaction. But stern conscience pricked immediately, and he tuok it out, with the w: resolution of throwing it away, and stoppe short—weak again. “80 long as I keep it hidden,” he decided at last, “it does not matter. Poor little Bronny! It will not do to let her see that I value it, but if I put it away in my pocket book—I wonder why fate should be always placing one in awk- ward situations when ‘one doesn’t go out of one’s way to seck them. A botter intentioned fellow than myself doesn’t exist, and yet, hang me if I’m not always gotting into some scrape or other! Am I to blame for longing to busk in every ray of sunshine that comes across my path?” At this moment he opened the afore- pocket book to place within its leaves the treasure and token of this poor victory over an ignovant girl; and behold! from it feli a photo- graph, at sight of which he reddened and swore a little under his breath. Not thatthere appeared anything in the photograph to arouse hisire. It was the presentment of a well- featured, conventional-looking young lady, faultlessly attired in the latest fashion, and ap- sort of a fellow I really am she would certain; turn a cold shoulder to me at once, When am in her company I fell a terrible” humbug, because I can’t help secing that she places me on a pedestal to which I have no claim. Some- times I think 1t would be better for both if the illusion were dispelled. It's devilish hard to ¢ up to any ideal standard, you know. But she's a good girl, mind you, and a modest, and there’s no harm done, save a twinge or two of heartache, perhaps, If she knew what a poor sort of fellow he really wai Well, had every opportunity of learni it, for this conversation very measured tones, 2nd the windows of the room being open. Bronwen, in the garden below gathering potherbs for dinner, had small chance of escaping the unweleome knowledge. She started aud gasped as though a knife had suddeniy pierced her, then with a cry like chat of a wounded creature she crept away to covert. Alone in her little bed- chamber she had a battle with the demons of wounded vanity, despair, hatred and shame, She lost her senses for the time being, and was a prey to every evil thought that chose to creep into her aching heart. “He has played me false! Thomas was right after all, though I hated him for saying it. And now it is the other—the one that smiled and deceived me—it is him I hate. All the time he was doing his utmost to gain my heart he was engaged to—toa lady in hi rank of life—as Thomas said, Ah, yes! with money. Well, let him sell his sou! for gold, and then I hope it may be cursed to him! May it turn to pebbies in his grasp, like as tho fairy gold does! At least I can be honestly grateful that I have no gold wherewith to buy Jove! “But he might have had the grace to keep silence concerning me. To make a mock of me to his friend—it is too much!” George had never done this; but the wounded wayward creature chose to imagine it. “Tolaugh even because I believed him good and true. How was I to know? Perhaps he will also laugh at me with her. Oh, God, what a pain was there! Why should I saffer? I have done no wrong. Thate pain. He is to blame for my suffering. Ay, and he is to blame also because I no longer feel good. He it is who raised the evil es within me which I cannot banish. Could I be sure of dragging him with mel would— God in heaven, pardon me and keep me from crime!” CHAPTER IIL — With a face rigid and immobile as the crags on Moel Carrig after a storm has passed over them, Bronwen resumed her household duties, and even lent a hand to the preparations Mr. Beldon was making for his departure on the morrow. She packed his clothes and his dried plants also, All this without the slightest trace of any emotion visible about her. And George Beldon, relieved and guessing nothing of the tempest raging within, felt that he haa been unnecessarily alarming himself as to the consequences of his foolish love making. It was quite evident that the girl cared nothing about him one way or another, or she could not have taken his departure so easily. Noteven a conventional expression of regret did she ut- ter, or ahope that at some future time he might return, So much the better, of course. Still it was a little galling to his vanity to be treated in such a manner. Restless and dissat- isfied he wax, therefore, even while considera- bly relieved, Glad? Of course he was glad that she did not care too much about him, but then, again, he would have liked her to show just some trace of feeling. Altogether his weak mind was, as usual. inastate of ferment. When morning dawned it appeared as though the very ele- ments did fight against him and hinder his flight from temptation. Every now and again Moel Carrig hid his frowning brow in a cloud of rain and the day was us wild and tempestu- ous a one as there had been that season. Now, the nearest way to the railway station lay over the shoulder of the mountain and unless George made up his mind to wait for a later train and to drive twelve miles round with his luggage (which he had already arranged to have sent after him), he must needs climb the heights of Moel Carrig, with the probability of breaking his neck or of sticking fast in a mori It was not a pleasing prospect and the young fellow might be pardoned for hesi- tating before venturing upon it. Besides, no one could be produced willing to act as guide, even for the ample remuneration he offered, and it was decidedly unsafe for him to go alone. Old Llanaber was stuck fast in the chimney corner with an attack of acute rheu- matism and Thomas could not spare the time, much as he wished, to speed the parting guost. But Bronwen, when they were left alone, lifted her heavy oyes to his, “I will take you over the mountain,” she id ina cold and monotonous voice. “You need not loose your train.” You!” exclaimed the gentleman, surprised, “But is it safe for you on such a day; The girl gave a short, hard laugh; “Safe enough,” she replied, in the same in- different way, “I am the best guide in the neighborhood, Do not I know every inch of the way between this and Gwynan Pass? You forget it is my world. I have had the whole of my life to learn it in.” ‘There was something in her tone that caused Mr. Beldon to glance quickly at her, But her face was entirely expressionless. “You must be uncommonly eager to be rid of me, Bronwen,” said the gentleman half in reproach, ‘or you would not make such an offer.” If this was a feeble attempt on hie part to extract some expression of regret from her it entirely failed in its purpose. “I thought you were particular about the first train,” she remarked quietly, pearing as prim and demure as society de- ™mands that its feminine votaries must do. To @eorge—whose particular property the original, along with an exceedingly handsome fortune in her own right, was about to be- come—the picture did not come as an alto- gether pleasing reminder of duty. Critically and unsympathetically regardin, it—as he had never done before—he decide: that dear Clara must have been in rather a cross mood when it was taken. At least it cer- tainly had a very haughty aud repellent ex- pression, And—yes, there was no doubt that her lips were too thin, her eyes too close together, and ee nose just a trifle too pronouncedly aqui- ine. Perhaps, however, s certain dark and spark- ling face rose before him in too marked a con- trast for him todo justice to the somewhat severe charms of the lady there Photographedg “Yes, it’s quite time I left here, if I'm not to make a worse fooi of myself,” he decided. Aud then he remembered that the last of dear Olara’s letters remained unanswered, “I will answer it in person, that will be best. She is alroady dissatisfied with my prolonged absence, and if once she grows suspicious there'll be the devil to pay. “Poor Bronwen! I hope she's not too hard hit. She's a beautiful ideal sort of creature, entirely out of placo in the kitchen of a farm. house, And yet—heigh-ho! I suppose she'll end by marrying that grim-faced fellow and sinking all her idealism in the practical work of a farmer's wife. Well, it isno business of mine, but one can’t help feeling sorry, all the same.” In this and similar fashion did the weak man soliloquize, while screwing up his resolution to the point of leaving the farm and the girl to- gether, Fortunately for the fulfillment of this resolution, a friend of his, a young fellow who was making a pedestrian tour through the dis. trict, paid him flying visit that day, and by his idle talk brought matters to a climax. Since morning Bronwen had kept very quict, and shunned observation, busying herself with various household tasks, but it so happened that the visitor caught sight of her, neverthe- less, and took occasion tochaff his friend about the “pretty wild Welsh lassie.” “So, 80, Master George! this is why you've kept your address so snug!” he began at once. after the senseless fashion of youngsters, «+f can assure youl had th gene ifficulty to hunt you out! ‘The w forgetting, by the world forgot,’ that sort of business, eh? ‘ell, I congratulate zon on your taste. for she’s une commonly ee looking and sufficient excuse for any fellow's seclusion. “But, look here, old boy—keep it dark, Don't you forget that Clara Haldane is an heiress and that those Johnnies that ne her will be only too delighted to have their knives into you. ‘ell, well, you needn't look so black, for all the world like an embodied thunder cloud; one gets enough of them in this beastly wet country without you beginning to imitate the eoetnert Th no tules, you may be eure! The Jad rattled on in this shallow, frivolous n for a few minutes, then suddenly his face ih pu) and he iaid his hand on the Beldon. shoulder o! “Get out of this,” he said, in a more serious — “You are (oped pes who will @ you a good a her wall. Don't for heaven's hief! Go ry i ‘Laking a spiked stick from behind the door, and wrapping a warm shawl about her, she announced her readiness for a start. Mr. Beldon had no longer any excuse for delay. Bidding old Gwylim adieu, and finding that he had no objection to his daughter acting as guide, the young man followed Bronwen out. Across the low-lying fields and the lower slopes of Moel Carrig, fragrant with the scent of the damp bog myrtle, and skirting the bogs with which this part’ of the mountain abounded, George found it rather shppery work ascending tho grassy slopes, but since Bronwen, with light and rapid’ steps, kept silently on ahead, he was ashamed to make any fuss abouta slight discomfort. Through the mist he could sce the forms of the sheep scur- rying off at their approach, Very different appeared the mountain since they had lingered and dallied there two days before. Dark, forbidding, threatening through its foggy mantle loomed’ the monster. Every now and again the wind swept with a hollow, angry sound adown the ravines searing its mighty bosom. The little mountain stream that flashed back no longer ago than yesterday an answering smile to tho sun’s caress was now ollen to a torrent, and foamed and seethed and tore about its boulders in an access of what looked like furious rage. Scarce did it appear able to endure its limitations, and kept fretting to be at some work of devastation. Very lke to this mountain torrent was the goul of the silent Bronwen, while digging he Rola of the stick into the soil she kept steadily upon her upward path, Gentle, peaceful and sunshiny only the da betore,now all angry and stormy and perturbed, Hate, wounded pride and thwarted love were all seething and boiling within her, and work- ing ruin and disaster to the nature once so serene and beautiful. The only fetters of con- ventionality recognized by this serene nature were about as futile to bridle its violent pas- sions as were the soft boggy banks of the stream to confine its boisterous waters, It is true, however, that what was denied to conventionality was as yet ase to an in- stinctive delicacy, Angry as the girl undoubt edly was with the man for having deceived her, she was almost as angry with herself for hav- ing given her love on so elight an asking and to 80 shallow a wooer. She called her native modesty to aid her in concealing her feelings, and the contempt which blended with them helpod her to t! So far, therefore, all was well, and all might still have been so had it not been for that un- easy vanity of Mr. Beldon, which would not suffer him to lot well alone. Tho silence kept by Bronwen, or the short, monosyllabic replies that were all she vouch- safed to his que Aim. Still more he: scoteeet me anger. : F summit of some crags he stopped for breat for the climbing had been very difheult of inte, and called upon Bronwen to halt likewise. This she did with considerable reluctance, for her spirit —_ her from f fatigue, and bmg hi Poss nr egos him. She appeare: Press forward as th ursued by some: Of a truth. Fern! fright- ie roy m1 Lavine serene that was the ovil e had vainly endeavored to cast out of Once, at a turn o! she started and drew back shud 3 bat recqrered her pres- ing carried on in no j = with me about something? Tell me, dear. Yesterday you seemed to care for me a little. What has changed you?” With a white fury not pleasant to behold she turned upon him. “What has changed me? Ask yourself that. If am changed—if evil thoughts have trken the place of good, if I am now more akin toa devil than @ woman—whoee work is it? Yes- terday?—aye, yesterday I was soft and lovable. Yesterday the sun shone, the bees bummed in the heather andthe stream sparkled over the stoncs—all was peace and beanty. But look at it now,” and she pointed toward the crest of Moel Carrig. “The clouds have come and the Peace and the beauty have vanished. Yester- day mf heart was. D greg of evil, today it — no good. And this is what you have lone!” George sighed and his eyes rested sorrow- fully upon her, But even at that tragic mo- ment he was quick to notice how wonderfully auger heightened and intensified her beaut; “I am sorry,” he murmured weakly: ™meant no harm. I was carried away by the im- — of the moment and—and—realiy I don’t know how to express it. But, hang it! a fellow isn’t made of stone, you know, and you did look so bewitching——" “That you chose to insult me,” broke in Bronwen, her hot blood now boiling in her veins. “What matter though I had a heart to be broken, a soul to be killed? You were amused, that was the main thing. And this Te purposeless, weak creature is the man I loved! “Do not think of me,” she went on after » moment for breath; “your very pity would be &n insult, I will waste no more thought on you. You are not worthy even of my hate, but I hate you for all that. if you lay dead at my feet at this moment—as I would to God a did—I would shed no tear. I would laugh—aye, even as you laughed at me—— Ob, heavens! my wish has killed him—my wish has killed him!” Astep incautiougly made in recoil from her vehemence, a stumble on the slippery stones and the next moment a bruised and mangled form was lying below the crags it had but just surmounted. Was ever unholy wish so quickly gratified? Alone on the heights were those two together, between heaven and earth, and behold! by the murderous desire of one the other was destroyed! The blood rushed to Bronwen's brain and the whole of creation appeared but as one huge crimson stain to her. Her first impulse was to throw herself down and make an end of it. So alone should the tragedy of the mountain be complete. She raised her arms to the heaven whose aid she had invoked for her revenge anda wild ery of horror and dismay rung out into the air. ‘Then something within gave way and she fell senscloss upon the ground, . es eo A considerable time elapsed before she re- gained consciousness and still longer before her stunned faculties could be sufficiently alive to grasp the situation. With returning reason acompiete revulsion of feeling took place. The evil spirit had departed, leaving naught behind that was not purely womanly and good. She recoiled from her past self as from ter. What had shedone? God pity he: had she done? She had been mad—mad! ‘Ho should she atone for her wicked thoughts? And how far was she to blame for what had oc- curred? Rising to her feet, she gazed around help- lessly. Still did the clouds lie below her, cut- ting her off from humanity. She felt impotent, hemmed in, Notasound from below pierced the mist. She crept to the edge of the preci- pice and peered over. Indistinctly she could perceive below the prostrate form of poor George. Not a movement wus perceptible to show that any life remained in him. After a moment she turned aside sick and trembling. It was too ghastly altogether! She must man- age to creep where he lay and ascertain beyond doubt the fact of his life or death; longer sus- ense was unendurable. Trembling in every limb and with a hesitation hitherto unknown to her she went slowly down the rugged path and bent over the unconscious form. White and drawn looked the face; the eyes were wide open, staring vacantly up into the sky; and at the back of the head was a ghastly jagged wound, from which the blood was slowly rickling, staining the stones among wiich the sufferer lay, Buta faint fluttering motion in the pulse assured Bronwen that life was not quite extinct, although the flame of it might be burning low. Instantly she remembered that be carried in his pocket a flask containing brandy, and. find- ing it there, as she hoped, raised his head very gently and managed to ogeta few drops between 18 clenched teeth. en, stripping off her soft shawl, she, after plugging the wound in his head with strips torn from her handkerchief, laid it upon this extemporized pillow. Still no signs of returning consciousness ap- eared. ain she made an effort to induce ‘im to swallow some stimulant, and this time with greater success. He revived slightly and his eyes first wavered from that horrible fixed stare, then closed, opened again and gazed vaguely up into Bronwen's face. Secbiy; tus xovoe sing tastes oman eee feebly; then recogni ing over My head—Bronwen—what—is wrong— with it? Good girl! Wish—I had—behaved— less—like a cad!” “Hush! You must not speak; you have had a ets nd now you must still until I get elp. As she spoke she attempted to rise, with the intention of speeding down the moun’ search of assistance, but he put out a hand and held her. “Do not--donot leave me! I shall die if you leave me alone. Bronny—do not leave me!” His eyes and voice were both wild with ter- ror, and the girl was at her wits’ end to know what she was todo. In such an agitated con- dition the probabilities were that he would, as he said, die if left to himself. And yet, lying there, in that cold, damp fog, every moment of delay was dangerous. Suddenly an inspiration came to her. She had with her a whistle, such as is used by the shepherds for calling ‘their dogs, and takingthis out she blew upon it loudly andshrilly, hoping that some of the dogs about the farm might come to her call. And sure enough, after the third time, Math came bounding up the hillside, barking and demonstrating his delight. Bronwen was so anxious and overwrought that she threw her arms about the shaggy neck of the creature and burst into tears, “Oh, Math, dear old Math! You must do me ®@ good turn and save his life!” She stooped and told Mr. Beldon her idea, which was simply to tie a note around the neck of the creature and to send him home again. Math appeared conscious that some mischief had happened, for he snit at George's ed trate form and touched his face gently with a warm aud sympathetic tongue, then set back upon his haunches and whined most dismally. Mr. Beldon was relapsing into a swoon and was barely able to speak, but man: to make Bronwen comprehend that she would find both paper and pencil in his pocket book. Bron- won scribbled aline hastilyto Thomas and fastened it around the dog’s neck with a scarf she wore on her own, then contrived by ges- tures and a word or two in Welsh to make the intelligent animal understand that he was to go and fetch his master. While she was doing this a simple thing touched her deeply and completed the con- quest gained by her higher nature. This was nothing more than the sight of aspray of white feeogad placed between the leaves of the pocket ook, Mr. Beldon’s injuries, though severe, and resulting in a long illness, did bot prove fatal; and Bronwen nursed him back to life with won- derful care and tenderness, When he was suf- ficiently recovered to leave the place he had grown to love, ina much more gsnine fashion, the girl who had nursed him. If Bronwen would then have consented he would have married her at on —_ — Clara had ee in neither a leasant nor @ womanly manner, e: Ber entire disbelief in the extent ot hic (abaaereg and writing to release him from an en; ment that had evidently grown irksome to His pride was up in arms direc! turn wrote—or rather dictated an answer to his friend, the same who came to see him once be- fore—a letter in which he entirely i laces’ he was of course disab! but his Friend, ted in turn with the of the spoiled heiress, was in no wise averse to the task. It was all very well being off with the old sa but the new declined, ne to ve from mine—and forget mo,” she said, with de- cision, “You cannot restore the flower when ita petais have once fallen. Another year may briag another bloom—and so will it be with you.” she added, with a slight touch of con- tempt in her tone, “but the same flower lives ay world, . ack to your . me goback to mine.” Hereshe pointed to Moel Carrig. “I have much to learn yot of my foster mother, Nature. I es find ne ~ = ide my unru! irit and to root the evil ow of my heart. ‘ane will teach me this and bring me peace again. Nid oo { cisian cariad arall! (I want no other love: eee A Song in the Night. Sing, oh sing, for the night is dark, and the dawn- ing tarries long, And the woe of the land of shadowing wings ts stilled by the sound of song, There is never a light on the land tonight, there is never @ star in the sky, the glance of the lightning’slance and the On Wau wares tenping Rig “Where Winter's royal robe of snows And knightly corselet gleam, Lie hid the nce of the rose, ‘The music of the stream. “Waiting until the days shall bring, From out the golden South, ‘The fairy prince to Und we SPring, And kiss her on the mouth. “He comes, although tarries long; And then, my heart, ab, then ‘The stream shall sing the hilis among, bloom again.” The rose Sing, oh sing, for the words are sweet and the night is full of fear, The nameless terror that Mies abroad in the dark- ness draws anear; the murky skies, and the The pale sea cries to ‘sword of a song alon Can sever the spell that the powers of bell o'er the tortured earth have thrown. “By her fairy lover kissed, She from bappy dreame shall waken, When the shining silver mist Winds of dawn to gold have shaken. “Ww akes across the hills Swift shall dart the happy swallow, And the golden daffodils Dance in every imisty hollow, “When the glory of her eyer Meets his eyes that shine above her, Music clear and giad shall rise Sweet from lawn and leafy cover. “Far through an enchanted land, Where the winds with song are laden, ‘They shall wander, hand in band, Happy youth and happy maiden. “Westward, ever westward drawn, Birds and blossoms wiih them bringing, The shall follow with the dawn ‘Till they hear the sea’s wild singing.” Soft sighs the breeze, and the stars in the east grow pale, Shines far on the seas a boat with a silver sail, Silver buds on the trees and a silver song in the vale, away, by creck and bay, “Awe, Their fairy ‘bark they steer, ‘One long delight, by day and hight, Though all the golden year. ‘The sea birds swing on tircless wing, ‘The waves, with rhythmic beat, For evermore along the shore ‘Their world-old song repeat, And borne on winds afar, The silver echoes fill The vault of heaven from star to star, ‘The earth from hill to nil.” Sing, oh sing, for the night is past, the sun shines over the sea, And the heart of the world is a song of love and hope for the days to be; ‘The terror that flies through the midnight skies @nd the powers of the dark are gone; @ Till the music fills the echoing hills, heart of my heart sing on! —D. J.’ Roseerson. —Longman's Magazine, oo ____ Ducking a Mischievous Girl. From the Philadelphia Press. ‘The Siamese are so near the equator that they have about the same hot weather the year around, Every man, woman and child in Bang- kok takes plunge into the river at least three times a day. Of the 700,000 people in the city at least 500,000 live in floating houses, and in- asmuch as the summer costume of the lower classes consists of a garment about the size of a Turkish towel it is not much trouble for them to go in bathing. They bathe on the steps of their houses and stand up to the waist in the water, grunting delightedly as they pour buck- etful after bucketful over themselves and their neighbors, T! ese man and woman take a bath every night after dinner. This bath is merely Pouring water over the person. Soap is never used and particular care is taken not to wet the hair. At New Year's, when the weather is as hot as our summer, these people have what they call a water feast, and at this time the whole nation throws water upon one another.. All the pretty girls go out with buckets and the boys have squirt-guns, and for three days there is nothing but water splash- ing. The foreigners of also engage in this, and the Chinese feast with the rest. One Chinaman upa hydrant with ® two-inch pipe during the last foast, and, as his house was on the main street, he had the bulge, as it were, on every one else. He en id a coolie to work the machine all day, and, as he was selling water- works, he had a good advertisement in addition to his fun. A swell Englishman arrived in Burmah last year during this feast, He went to call on one of the leading men of Rangoon in a tall silk hat and black clothes and was met at the door by a girl With a bucket of water. The girl asked him in Burmese whether he was observing the water feast, and he, supposing that she wanted to know whether he had come to see her father, nodded his head. and with that nod this whole bucket of water went over his silk hatand down the back of his collar, completely drenching him. During the same time another party of Englishmen were told that some girls were coming to throw water on them. They had the servants bring out the bath tub and putit on the veranda, and when the girls came they got possession of the bath tub and splashed the Englishmen until one of them, rushing in, seized one of the maidens and, lifting her up, dropped her into the tub. This was considered very impolite and the young man who did it suffered by receiving no atte the Burmese beauties, See — Fooling a Balky Horse, From the Norwich Bulletin, A horse-car nag balked in front of the Uni- versalist Church at 6:30 last evening and de- clined to go further in the direction of Green- ville, The driver, after striking the bell to go ahead, tried several times to coax the animal forward without avail. Finding he could not have his way he concluded to let tho horse have — turning the horses around, he at- tached them to the other end of the car and started toward Franklin Square, an eighth of a mile away. The horses made time to that terminus of the road in front of the Wan- regan House. They were then taken to the Greenville end of the car and given another start. Sine ergs esta rein and passed the Universalist Church at a rate of 5; which ap wg to make up for the delay caused ben driver's maneuver. That driver had evidently with the horse before and knew just howto calm him down and make him do his best. ‘oo —_____ Quick to Take a Hint. From the Detroit Free Press. Yesterday morning « tall, slim man, wearing 8 faded Greeley hat and well enveloped in a linen duster of ancient date, entered the Wood- bridge street station and said to the ser- it: “I just came inon the train. Look at me and seo if I resemble Capt. Kidd or Charley Ross.’ “I can’t see that you do,” replied the ser- opal $ MOLTKE ON BEER. He Wants It Cheaper—Bismarck’s Epi> grams on Drink. from the New York Sun. At home and abroad Count von Moltke has long been quoted as the author of the senti- ment. “Beer is Germany's worstenemy.” A temperance publication in Dresden recently asked the field marshal to give ite readers® little lecture from this text. His answer was: “I never said beer was Germany's worst enemy. On the contrary, I have always wished that © good light beer conid be given to our People for less money than that they now pay. The price at 3; or even 2\4 cents (for about e half @ pint) is too high. In south Germany they drink the less expensive cider. With us in north Germany, unfortunately,only schnapps is cheap. I drink neither beer nor brandy, but I regard the abolishing of the use of spirituous liquors as neither possible nor desirable, Espe- cially are they necossary where quick, exhaust- ing work is done, for instance, on the battle- field, where the strength of the men must be occasionally stimulated. if only for a short time. Dangeroys to the country is alone the abuse of alcoho! that unfortunately prevails among us, A healthy man undewordinary cir- cumstances needs no such tomic, and the use of it for children is absolutely snful. The same is true of savages. who are the same as chil- dren, My desire that coffee, tea and light beer become cheaper and brandy become dearer.” Biemarck’s taste in epirituons liquors differs radically from the taste of the field marshal. “Ned wine is the natural drink of the north German,” he once said, “and I prefer to see my countrymen drinking honest brandy to muddling their brains with beer.” At another time he remarked: The prevalent use of beer is deplorable. Beer drinking makes men stupid, lazy and incapable. It is the cause of ail the radical pot politics ‘hat it, Good corn brandy wou'd be better.” Versailles Bismarck quoted and indorsed the recommendation of a Prussian general: “Red wine for children,champagne for men, acht for generais.” The Aury + Warachoeosin & story some years ago of a wager made by two Germans in Warsaw as to the preference of Bismarck for wine or beer. To settle the — at issue they wrote to the chancellor imsclf. “His highness directs me to inform you,” wrote his secretary in reply, “that ¥ are both right. He is equally fond of beor and good wine, and save when be is ili drinks one as freely as the other.” os IN COOKING, Bills of Fare That Can Be Filled at $1.50 a Week. Chantangua, N. ¥., Special to the N. ¥. Tritune, Mrs, Emma P. Ewing, the cookery expert, has been made the target of a good deal of criticism by incredulous people who don't be- lieve she can live on $1.50 aweek. This morn- ing she told a packed audience of housekeep- ers how she managed it, “In the summer of 1887,” she said, “at the Iowa Agricultural Col- lege, I fed four people seven weeks for @42, 86 a week for all, or #1.50 a week each, That covered the cost of everything except the hired help. In Boston, in October, 1889, I was feed- ing a family for €1.75 a week at the time the Boston newspapers were saying it could not be done. You remember Dr. Lardner demon- strated once that it was impossible a steamship could carry coal to last her during « voyage, but steamships do it novertheless.” Subjoined isa sample of Mrs, Ewing's #1.50 bills of fare, Breakfast—Apples, grapes, veal chops, baked potatoes, bread, butter and coffee. Dinner—Tomato soup, boiled mutton with caper sauce, boiled potatoes, mashed t apple pie, cream, bread and butter, coffee milk, Supper—Cold meat, macaroni cooked in cream, bread and butter, sally lunn, tea and coffee, The following is « bill of fare prepared at the same rate fora family of four persons in ‘1588: Breakfast—Oatmeal, breakfast bacon,steamed Potatoes, apple sauce. Dinner ‘a soup, roast beef, browned pote- toes, sliced tomatoes, cold pudding. Supper—Rolied barley with cream, ginger wafers, tea. In Kansas City this was the bill of fare for one day in a week, costing €1.90: ECONOMY Breakfast—Dried sweetbreads, wheat with cream, strawberries, bread and butter, coffee and milk. Dinner—Broiled spring chicken, peas, new potatoes, strawberries, bread and butter and tea, Supper—Rolled barley with cream, toast, tea and milk. An assistant of Mrs, Ewing, who lives in Minneapolis, provided food for a family at $1.16 each a week on bills of fare like this: Breaking —Oranges, poached oggs on toast, milk. Dinner—Soup, porterhouse steak, Parsnips, chow chow, peach pudding. Supper—Cold meat, oatmeal th cream, bread, marmalade, butter, milk. “Most people,”’said Mrs. Ewing, “even at Chautauqua, would think they fared prett well if they always got meals like that All the dishes named are of the best material, For our object bas never been to see how cheaply we could live, but how well we couldlive at small expense. A Chicago newspaper sug- gested that I must be Jean and angular, Yeu can see what a comical mistake that is, In the bills of fare you will notice cake never » If people would only do without it they would soon find their appetite for it disappearing, My statemept that boarders can be fed for $2.50 a week each on choice fare at « profit has been ridiculed. At Purdue University, Indiana, fifty-seven persons took meals in the hall dur- ing last summer prepared by me. Forty -tour of them paid 22.508 week. The other thirteen were members of my family or assisted in cookiag. “The receipts from boarders were $885 in three anda half weeks. The expenditures for food, labor and fuel $300." One of the Purduo bills of fare is subjoined: Breakfast—Canteloupe, French rolls, veal a stewed potatoes, bread, butter, coffee, milk. Dinner—Rice soup, roast beef, potatoes, sliced tomatoes, macaroni, apples, bread, but- ter, coffee, milk. Supper—Cold lamb, baked potatoes, bread, butter, tea and milk. people,” continued “I can feed fif Mrs, Ewing, “on €150 a week, on good food, with « Profit of $2.50 a day, and so can you if you will = wren pends the erp) green food material and prepare it so nothing will be wasted. The material con- sumed at Purdue comprised an ye of 31 bread, pounds of meat and fish, 30 pounds 1234 pounds of sugar, 8 pounds of butter, lig pounds ot coffee, 1}q pounds of tea, 50 of ice, 7 gallons of milk and cream, in fruit and vegetables.” —_— soe A Pathetic Association. From the Detroit Free Press. “One of the saddest sights it was ever my ex- perience to witness,” remarked « veteran bag- gage smasher, “fell under my “A few moments later an old bled up t the door of the car, just as we were ready to pull out. He was leading a little three- year-old girl by the hand. He lifted her into the car and without s word kissed the go forge eee “I took the E F iit fi i i ! if fit bell te HE