Evening Star Newspaper, January 4, 1896, Page 14

14 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY. 4, 1896--TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. “OUT OF -THUN.” A SHORT STORY IN THREE PARTS BY ROPERT BARE, Author of “The Face and the Mask,” Midst of Alarms,” etc. “In the (Copyright, 1896, by Robert Barr.) I—BESSIE’S BEHAVIOR. On one point Miss Bessie Durand agresd | with Alexander von Humboldt, in fact, she even went further than that celebrated | man, for while he asserted that Thun was | one of the three most beautiful spots or earth, Bessie held that this Swiss town was absolutely the most perfectly lovely place she had ever visited. Her reason for th‘s conclusion differed from that of Humboi:::. ‘The latter, being a mere man, had Seon “influenced by the situation of the tor the rapid foaming river, the placid great lake, the high mourtairs all around the snow peaks to the east, the ancie castle overlooking everything and th quaint streets with the pavements up 2t the first floors. i Bessie had an eye for all these things, of course, but while waterfalls and pro- found ravines were all very well in their way, her hotel had to be filled with the right sort of company before any spot on earth was entirely satisfactory to Hessie. She did not care to be out of humanity's reach, nor to take her small journeys | alone; she liked to hear the sweet music of / speech, and if she started at the sound of | her own, Bessie would have been on the} jump all day, fer she was a brilliant and effusive talker. So it happened that in touring throush Switzeriand, Bessie and her mother (some- how people alwaya placed Bessie’s name be- fore that of her mother, who was a quiet little unobtrusive woman) stopped at Thun, intending to siay but a day, as most ie do, but when Bessie found the big hotel simply swarming with nice young men =he teld her mother that the local guide book asserted that Humboldt had once said that Thun was one of the three most love-¥ places on earth, and therefore they ought to stay there and enjoy its beauties, which they at once proceeded to do. It must not be imag:ned from this that Bessie was par- ticularly fond of young men. Such was far from being the case. She merely liked to have them propose to her, which was certainly a laudable ambit‘on, but she in- variably refused them, which went to show that she was not, as her enemies stated, always in love with somebody. The fact she was a heartless flirt. How little do we Know the motives of our. fellow creatures! How prone are we to mi the actions ef others!- Bessie was no flirt, but a«high~ m:nded, conscientious girl, with an ambition —an ambition» which. she .did. not babble about to the world, and therefore the world failed to appreciate her, as it nearly always fails to appreciate those who do not take it into their confidence. It came to be eurrently reported in the hotel that Bessie had refused no less than seven of the young men who had been staying there, and as these young men had, ore after another, packed up and departed, either by the last train at night or the earLest in the morning, the proprietor be- yan to wonder what the matter was, espe- cially as each of the departing guests had but a shert time before expressed renewed delight with the hotel and its surround- ings. Several of them had stated to the proprietor that they had abandoned their intention of proceeding further with their Swiss tour, so satisfied were they with a nm and all its belong-ngs. Thus did the itering opinion of Alexander von Hum- idt seem about to become general, to the great delight of the hotel proprietor, when, w'thout warning, these young men had sisomily deserted Thun, while its beauty doubtedly remained unchanged. Nat- rally the good man who owned the hotel was bewildered, and began to think that, after all, the English were an uncertain, mind-chang.ng race. Among the guests there was one young fellow who was quite as much perplexed the proprietor. Archie Severance was e of the last to fall under the sveil of tessie, if, indeed, it is correct to speak of Archie falling et all. He was a very de- Eberate young man, not given te doing any th.ng precipitously, but there is no doubt that the charming personality of Bessie fas- sinated him, although he seemed to content himself with admiring her at a distance. Bessie, somehow, did not seem to care about being admired from a distance, and once when Archie was promenading back and forth on the terrace above the river, she sm.led sweetly at him from her book, and he sat down beside her. Jimmy Wellman had gone that morning, and the rest had not yet found it out. Jimmy had so com- pletely monopolized Miss Durand for the last few days that no one else had had a chance, but now that he had departed, Eeasie sat alone on the terrace, which was a most unusual! state of things. “They tell me,” said Bessie in her most flattering manner, “that you are a famous climber, and that you have been to the top of the Matterhorn.” “Oh, not famous; far from it,” sald Archie, modestly. “I have been up the Matterhorn three or four times, but then women and children make that ascent nowadays, so that is nothing unusual.’ “I am sure you must have had some thrilling escapes,” continued Bessie, look- ing with admiration at Archie's stalwart frame. “Mr. Wellman had an awful ex- perience— “Yesterday?” interrupted Archie. “I hear be left early this morning.”” “No, not yesterday,” said Miss Durand, was that Miss Bessie Durand’s motives were ent'rely misunderstood by an unap- preciative world. Was she to be biamed| because young men wanted her to marry them? Certainty not. It was not ner fault that she was pretty and sweet, and that young men, as a general rule, liked to talk to her better than ts any one else in the neighborhood. Many of her detractors would very likely have given much to have had Bessie’s many charms of face, figure and manner. This is a Jealous world, and people del ght tm saying spiteful ‘little things about those more favored by Provi- dence than themselves. It must be ad- mitted, however, that Bessie had a certain cooing, confidential way with people that may have misled some of the young men who ultimately proposed to her into im- agining that they were especial favorites with the young lady She took a kindly interest in their affaira, and very shortly after their acquaintance with her most young men found them- selves pouring imto her sympathetic ear | all their hopes and aspirations. Bess:e’s ear was very shell-like and beautiful as well as sympathetic, 30 that one can hard- j ly say the young men were to blame, any more than Bessie was. Nearly everyhody in this world, wants to talk of himself or herself, as the case may be, and so it is no} wonder that a person like Bessie, who ‘3 willing to listen while other people taik | of themseives, is popular. Among the many billions who inhaiit this planet there are too many talkers and too few Lsteners, | and although Bessie was undoubtedly a | brilliant talker on occasion, there is no | doubt that her many victories resulted | more from her apprec'ative qualities as a alent-d Estener than from the entertain- ing charms of her conversation. Those women who have so much to say about 3 vior might well take a leaf | er book in th's respect. They would | ey had even passably good looks, | would be more frequent. Of $4.6 use in denying that Be nad much to do with bring.ng } to the point. Her eyes were | E from h find Ss J came into them a . yearning look that ft wa ible to re . They gazed iaus nan when he was telling in s how he hoped to make the ser and better by his presence in n he narrated some incident of anger in which he took part, where | (unconsciously, perhaps, on the tellers part) his own heroism was shown forth to the best possible advantage. Then Bes- rie’s eyes would grow large and humid and tender and a subdued 'ght would come into t#fem as she hung breathlessly on his words. Did not Desdemona capture Othel- lo merely by listening to a recital of his i ring deeds, which were, doubtless, greatly exaggerated? The youns men at the big hotel in Thun Were Clad mostly in knickerbockers, and many of them had alpenstocks of their own. | It soon became their delight to sit on the | terrace in front of the hotel during the pleasant summer evenings and relate to; Bessie their hairbreadth escages, the con- | tinuous murmur of the River Aare forming a soothing chorus to their dramatic narra- | tions. At least a dozen young men hovered | d the girl, willing and eager to confide but while Bessie was smiling and d to them all, it was soon evident that * special one was her favorite, and then t hung hopelessly back. Things ndérfully well for this lucky y or two, and he usually be- rensively conceited In his bearing ward the rest that the wonder is he es- ped without personal vengeance being wreaked upon him; then all at once he Id pack up his belongings and gloomfly the vuld go We depart for Perne or Interlaken, depending on whe! her his ultimate destination was The young men remaining in- | y_tried not to look jubilant at the len departure, while the ladies staying at the hotel began to say hard things of Bessie, going even so far as to assert that j herself that she did not at all like this | always a generous action towards the rest coldly, drawing herself up with some in- dignation, but as she glanced sideways at Mr. Severance, that young man seemed so innocent that she thought perhaps he meant nothing in particular by his remark. So after a slight pause Bessie went on again. “It was a week ago. He was climb- ing the Stockhorn and all at once the clouds surrounded him.”* “And what did Jimmy do? Waited till the clouds rolled by, I suppose.” “Now, Mr. Severance, if you are going to laugh at me, I shall not talk to you any more.” “I assure you, Miss Durand, I was not laughing at you. I was laughing at Jim- my. I never regarded the Stockhorn as a formidable peak. “It is something like 7,195 feet high, I believe, net to mention the inches.” “But surely, Mr. Severance, you know very well that the danger of a ‘mountain does not necessarily bear any proportion to its altitude above the sea.” “That is very true. I am sure that Jimmy himself, with his head in the clouds, has braved greater dangers at much — levels than the top of the Stock- orr.”” Again Miss Durand looked seachingly at the young man beside her, but again Archie was gazing dreamily at the curious bell-shaped summit cf the mountain under @iscussion. The Stockhorn stands out nobly head and shoulders above its fel- lows, when viewed from the hotel terrace at Thun. There was silence for a few mo- ments between the two, and Besste said to exceedingly self-possessed young man who seemed to look at the mountains in prefer- enee to gazing at ner, which was against the natural order of things. It was evi- dent that Mr. Severance necded to be taught a lesson, and Bessie, who had a good deal of justifiable confidence in her own powers as a teacher, resolved to give him the necessary instruction. Perhaps, when he had acquired a little more experience, he would not speak so contemptuously of “Jimmy” or any of the rest. Besides it fs of humanity to reduce the inordinate self- esteem of any one young man to something ke reasonable proportions. So Bessie, in- ead of showing that she was offended by | is fiippant conversation and his lack of devotion to her, put on her most bewitch- ing manner and smiled the smile that so many before her latest victim had found impossible to resist. She would make him talk of himself and his exploits. ‘They all suecumbed to that treatment. “TI do so love to hear of arrow escapes,” said Bessle, confidently. “I think it is so inspiring to hea~ of human courage and en- durance being pitted against the dangers of the Alps and coming out victorious.” “Yes, they usually come out victorious according to the accounts that reach us, but then, you know, we never hear the mountain's sid> of the story.” “But, surely, Mr. Severance,” appealed Bessie, “you do not imagine that a real climber would exaggerate when telling of what he had done.” Yo. Oh, no. I would not go so far as to say that he would exaggerate exactly, but I have known cases where—well—a sort of Alpine glow came over a story that, I must confess, improved It very much. Then, again, curlous mental transformations take place, which have the effect of making a man, what the vulgar term, a liar. Some years ago a friend of mine came over here te do a few ascents, but he found sitting on the hotel piazza so much more to his taste that he sat there. I think myself that the veranda climber is the most sensi- ble man of the lot of us, and if he has a good imagination there is no reason why he should be distanced by those you call real climbers wren it comes to telling stories of adventures, Well, this man, who is a most truthful person, took one false step. You know some amateurs have a vile habit of getting the names of various peaks branded cn thelr alpenstocks, just as if any real climber ever used an aipenstock.” “Why, what do they use?" asked Bessie, much interested. “Ice axes, of course. Now, there is a use fet individual in Interlaken who is what you. might call a wholesale brander. He has the names of all the peaks done in iron at his shop, and if you take your alpenstock to him, he will, for a few franes, brand on it all tne rames it will hald, from the Ortler to Mont Blanc. My friend was weak enough to have alt the climbs he intended to make branded on the alpenstock he bought the moment he entered Switzerland. They al- ways buy an alpenstoek the first thing. He never had the time to return to the moun- tains, but gradually he came to believe that he had made all the ascents recorded by fire and iron on his pole. He is a truthful man on every other topic than Switzerland.”* “But you must have had some very dan- gerous experiences among the Alps, Mr. Sev- erance. Please tetl me of the time you were in the greatest peril.’” “I am sure it would not interest you.” “Oh, it would; it would. Please go on and don’t require so much persuasion. I am just lcnging to hear the story.” “It isn’t much of a story because, you see, there is no alpine glow about it.” Archie glanced at the girl and it flashed across his mind that he was probably then in the greatest danger he had ever been in, in his life. She bent forward toward him, her elbows on her knees and her chin—such a pretty chin—in her hands. Her eyes were full upon hifn, and Archie had sense enough to realize that there was da:igir in the.r clear Pellucid depths, so he, too, turned his own from them and sought refuge in his old friend the Stockhorn. “I think the narrowest escane I ever had was about two weeks ago. I went up—” “With how many guides?” interrupted Bessie breathlessly. “With none at with a laugh. “Isn't that very unsafe? I thought one always should have 4 guide.” “Sometimes guides are unnecessary. I took none on this occasion because I only ascended as far as the Chateau in Thun, some 300 feet above where we are sitting, and as I went by the main street of the town, the climb was perfectly safe in all weathers. Besides there is generally a Pohceman about.” “Oh,” said the girl, sitting up suddenly very straight. Archie was looking at the mountains and did not see the hot anger surge up into her face. “You know the steps leading down from the castle; they are covered in, and are very dark when one comes out of the bright sunlight. Some fool had been eat- ing an orange there, and had carelessly thrown the peet on the steps. I did not Notice it and so trod on a bit. The next thimg I knew I was in a heap at the foot of that Iong stairway, thinking every bone in my body was broken. I had many bruises, but no hurt that was serious, nevertheless I never had such a fright in-| my life, and I hope never to have such another.” Bessie rose up with much dig- nity. ~ “I am obliged to you for your recital, Mr. Severance,” she said freezingly. “If I do not seem to appreciate it as much as I should, it is perhaps because I am not ac- customed to being laughed at.” “I assure you, Miss Durand, that I am not laughing at you, and that this pathetic incident was anything but a laughing mat- ter to me. The Stockhorn has no such nger lying in wait for a man as a bit of orange peel on a dark and steep stairway. Please do not be offended with me. I told you my stories have no Alpine glow about a but the danger is undoubtedly there.” * Archie had risen to his feet, but there Was no forgiveness in Miss Durand’s eyes as she bade him “Good afternoon” and + ras into the hotel, leaving him standing ere. During the week that followed Archie had Iittle chance of making his peace with Miss Durand, for in that week the Sander- son episode had its beginning, its rise, and its culmination. Charley Sanderson, em- boldened by the sudden departure of Well- man, became the constant attendant of Bessie, and everything appeared to be in his favor until the evening he left. That evening the two strolled along the walk that borders the north side of the river, leading to the lake. They said they were going to see the Alpine glow on the snow mountains, but nobody believed that, for the glow can be seen quite as well from the terrace in front of the hotel. Be that as it may, they came back together shortly be- fore 8 o'clock, Bessie looking her prettiest, and Sanderson with a black frown on his face, evidently in the worst of tempets. He flung his belongings in a bag and de- parted on the 8340 train for Berne. As Archie met the pair, Bessie actually smiled very sweetly upon him, while Sanderson glared as if he had never met Severance; before. “That episode is evidently ended,” said Archie to himself as he continued his walk toward Lake Thun. “I wonder if it is pure devilment that induces her to lead people on to a proposal and then drop them. I suppose Charley will leave now, and we will have no more games of Diliards. I wonder why they all seem to think it the proper thing to go away. I wouldn't. A woman is like a difficult peak, if you don’t succeed the first time,you should try again. I believe I shall try half a dozen proposals with bessie myself. If I ever come to the point, she won't find it so easy to get rid of me as she does with all the rest.” Meditating thus, he sat down on a bench under the trees facing the lake. Archte wondered if the momentous question had been asked at this spot. It seemed just the place for it, and he noticed that the gravel on the path was much disturbed, as if by the iron-shod point of an agitated man’s cane. Then he remembered that Sanderson was carrying an iron-pointed cane. As Archie smiled and looked about him, he saw on the seat beside him a neat little morocco-bound book, with a silver clasp. It had evidently slipped from the izsecure dress pocket of. a lady who had been sitting there. Archie picked it up and } turned it over and over in his hands. It is a painful thing to be compelled to make excuses for one of whom we would fain speak well, but it must be admitted that at this point in his life Severance did what he stould not have done. He actually read the contents of the book, although he must have been aware before he turned the sec- ond ieaf that what was there set down was meant for no eye save the writer’s own. Archie excuses himself by maintaining that he had to read the book before he ceuld be sure it belonged to anybody in particular, and that he opened it at first merely to see if there were a name or a card inside, but there is little doubt that the young man knew from the very first whose book it was, and he might at least have asked Miss Durand if it were hers before he opened it. However, there is lit- tle purpose in speculating on what might have been, and as the reading of the note book led directly to the utterly unjusti- fiable action of Severance afterward, as one wrong step invariably leads to an other, the contents of the little volume are here given, so that the reader of this} tragedy may the more fully understand the | situation. IL—BESSIB'S CONFESSION. August 1.—The keeping of a diary is a silly fashion, and I am sure I would not bother with one, if my memory were good and if I had not a great object in view. However, I do not intend this book to be more than a collection of notes that will be useful to me when I begin my novel. The novel is to be the work of my life, and I mean to use every talent I may have to make it unique and true to life. I think the New Woman novel is a thing of the past, and that the time has now come for @ novel of tne old sort, yet written with a fidelity to life such as has never been at- tempted by the old novelists. A painter or a sculptor uses a model while producing a great picture or a great statue. Why should not a writer use a model also? ‘The motive of all great novels must be love, and the culminating point of a love story is the proposal. In no novel that I have ever read is the proposal well done. Men evi- dently do not talk to each other about the proposals they make, therefore, a man writer has merely his own experience to go upon, so his proposals have a sameness; kis hero proposes just as he himself has done or would do. Women writers seem to Pave more imagination in this matter, but they describe a proposal as they would like it 9 be, and not as it actually is. I find that It is quite an easy thing to get a man to propose. I suppose I Have a gift that way, and besides there is no denying the fact that I am handsome and perhaps that is something of an aid. I therefore intend to write down in this book all my Froposals, using the exact language the man employed, and thus I shall have the Proposals in my novel precisely as they occurred. I shall also set down here any thoughts that may be of use to me as I write my book. August 2.—E shall hereafter not date the notes in this book; that will make {t look less like a diary, which I detest. We are in Thun, which ts @ lovely place. Hum- boldt, whoever he is or was, said it is one of the three prettiest spots on earth. I wonder what the names are of the other two. We intended to stay but one night at this hotel, but I see it is full of young men and as all the women seem to be rather ugly and given to gossip I think thie ig just the place for the carrying out of my ideas. The average young man is al- all,” answered Archie ways ready to fall in love while on his vacation, it time pass so -pleasantly, andas I reads ewhere that man as a general rule fourteen. times. dur- Proposes. ing his life, Imay as well, in the interests of Hterature, be tne recipient of some of those offers ve hit on what I) think is_a marvelous’ I shall arrange the offers -with some regard to thé scenery, just as I supfiea¢ a stage manager does. One shall propose by the river; there are lovely, shady walks on both sides; another up fn the mountains; another !n the moon- Hght on the lake in one of the pretty for- eign looking rowboats they have here, with striped awnirgs. I don’t believe any novel- ist has ever thought of such a thing. Then I can write down a vivid description of the scenery in conjugetion with the language the young man uses. If my book is not @ success it will,be because there are no discriminating'e#itics in England. First proposal. This came on rather un- expectedly. His name is Samuel Caldwell and he is a curate here for his health. He fs not in the least in love with me, but he thinks He is, and so I suppose it comes to the same thing. He began by saying that I was the orly one who ever understood his real aspirations, and that !f.I would join my lot with his he was sure we would not only bring happiness to ourselves, but to others as well. TI told him gently that my own highest aspirat'on was to write a suc- cessful novel, and this horrified him, for he thinks novels are wicked. He has gone to Grindewald, where he thinks the air is more suitable for his lungs. I hardly count this as a proposal, and it took me so much by surprise that it was half over before I realized that it actually was an offer of his heart and hand. Besides, it teok place in the hotel garden, of all unlikely spots, where we were in constant danger of in- terruption. Second proposal. Richard King is a very nice fellow and was tremendously in earnest. He says his life is blighted, but he will soon come to a d:fferent opinion at Interlaken, where Margaret Dunn writes me it is very gay and where Richard has gone. Last evening we strolled down by the lake an@ he suggested that we should go out in a boat. He engaged one with two women to row, one sitting at the stern and the other standing at the prow, work- ing great oars that looked like cricket bats. ‘The women did not understand English, and we floated on the Inke until the moon came up over the snow mountains. Richard leaned over and tried to take my hand, whispering in a low voice “Bessie.” E con- fess I was rather im a flutter and could think of nothing better to say than “Sir! in a tone of suryriae and indignation. He went on very, hui ly. “Bessie,” he, sgid, ‘we have known each pear q but in those few I answered, gathering my wits cHttatolt gaye Thun is one of the about me, threc—” Richard interrupted me with something that sounded remarkably like “Hang Thun. Then he went.on and sald that I was all the world to him; that he could not live without me. I shock iy head slowly and did not re- ply. He spoke with a fluency that seemed to suggest practice, but I told him it could never he. Then.he folded his arms, sitting moodily back in the boat, saying I had blighted his life. He did look handsome as he sat there in the moonlight, with a deep frown on hig brow, but I could not help thinking he s#t Back purposely, so that the moonlight might strike his face. I wish I could write down the exact language he used, for he was Yery ‘eloquent, but some- how I cannot bringmyself to do it. even in this book. I am'8ure, however, that when I come to write my trovel and turn up these notes F shall recall the words. Still, I in- tended to put down the exact phrases. I wish 1 could take notes at the time, but when a man is’ proposing he seems to want all your attention. A fine, stalwart young man came to the hotel today, bronzed by mountain climbing. He looks as if he would propose in a manner not so much like all the rest. I have found that his name is Archibald Severance, and they say he is a great mountaincer. What a splendid thing a proposal on the high Alps would be from such a man, with the gleam- ing srow al around. I think I shall use that idea in the book. ‘Third, fourth, fifth and sixth proposals. I must confess that I am amazed and dis- appointed with the men. Is there no such thing as originality among mankind? You would think they had all taken lessons from some proposing master; they all have the same formula. The last four all began by calling me “Bessie” with the air of taking a great and important step in life. Mr. Well- man varied it a little by asking me to call him Jimmy, but the principle is just the same. I suppose this sameness is the result of our modern svstem of education. I am sure Archie would act differently. Iam not certain that I like him, but he interests me more than any of the others. I was very angry with him a week ago. He knows it, but he doesn’t seem to care. As soon as Charley Sanderson proposes I will see what can be done with Archie Severance. I like the name Archie. It seems to suit the young men exactly. I have been won- dering what sort of scenery would accord best with Mr. Severance’s proposal. I sup- pese a glacier would be about the correct thing, for I imagine Archie is rather cold and sneering, when he is not in very good j humor. The lake would be too placid for his proposal, and when one js near the rapids one cannot hear what the man is saying. I think the Kohleren gorge would be just the spot, it is so wild and romantic, with a hun- dred waterfalls dashing down the precipices, I must ask Archie if he has ever seen the Kohleren Falls. I suppose he will despise them ‘ecause they are not up among the snow peaks. III.—BESSIE’S PROPOSAL. After reading the book, wich he had no business to read, Archie closed the volume, fastened the clasp, and slipped it into his in- side pocket. There was 1 meditative look in his eyes as he gazed over the blue lake. “I can't return it to her—now,” Archie said to himself. “Perhaps I should not have read it. So she is not a flirt after all, but merely uses us poor mortals as models.” Archie sighed. “I think that’s better than being a flirt—but I’m not quite sure. I sup- pose an author.is justified in going to great lengths to insure the success of so important a thing as a beok. It may be that I can as- sist her with"tMs tremendous work of fic- tion. I will Yhihk about it. But what am I to do about thisiittle diary? I must think | about that a8 I can’t give it to her and say I di##ot read it, for I am such a poor hand at Iytig. “Good heavefig! I believe that is Bes- sie coming aloft along the river bank. Pll wager she has Jnissed the book and knows pretty accurstety where she lost it. I'll place it wherp ¥"found it and nide.” The line of'trées along the path made it easy for Arthie to carry out successfully his hastily formed resolution. He felt like a sneak, a féelfig he thoroughly merited, as he dodged’ behind the trees and so work- ed his way t6 the main road. He saw Bes- sie march stvalgnt for the bench, pick up the book and Walk back toward the hotel, without ever gigncing around, and her de- finite action ¢ofivinced Archie that she had no suspicio’ tat anyone had seen her book. This made the young man feel eas- ler ‘mn his mind, and he swung along the Interlaken road toward hua, flattering himself that no harm had been done. Nev- ertheless he had resolved to revenge Miss Bessie’s innocent victims, and as he walk- ed he turned plan after plan over in his mind. Vengeance would be all the mo@ complete as the girl had no idea that h& Uterary methods were known to anyone but herseif. For the next week Archie was very at- tentive to Bess‘e, and ft must be recorded that the pretty young woman seemed to appreciate his devotion thoroughly and to like it. One morning, beautifully arrayed in walking costume, Bessie stood on the terrace apparently scanning the sky as™*z anxious atout the weather, but in reality looking out for an escort, the gossips said to each other as they sat under the awn- ings busy at needle work and slander, for, of course,no such thought was in the young lady’s mind." She smiled sweetly when Archie happened to come out of the billiard. Foom, but then she always greeted her friends-in- a kindly: manner. “Are you off for a walk this morning?” asked Archie, ‘in the innocent tone of one who d:dn’t know and really desired the in- formation. He spoke for the benefit of the gossips, but they were fot to be taken in by any such transparent device. They sniffed with contempt, and said it was brazen of the two te pretend that they were not meeting there by appointment. Yes,” said Bessie with a saucy air of defiance as !f she did not care who knew it. “I am going by the upper road to the Kobleren Fails, Have you ever seen them?*+ “No. Are they pretty?” “Pretty! They are grand, at least the gorge is, although perhaps you would not think efther the gorge cr the falls worth visiting.”” “How can I tell until I have visite them? Won't you be my guide there?” “I shall be most happy to have you come, only you must promise to speak re- spectfully of both ravine and fall.” “I was not the man who spoke disre- spectfully of the equator, you know,” said Archie as they waiked off together amid the scorn of the gossips, who declared they had never seen such a bold-faced action in their lives. As their lives already had been somewhat lengthy, an idea may be formed of the heinousness of Bessie’s conduct. it took the two rather more than an hour by the upper road overlooking the town of Then and the lake beyond, to reach the finger board that’ pointed down into the Kohleren valley. They zigzagged alorg a rapidly falling path until they reached the first of a series of falls roaring into a deep gorge surround- ed by a dense forest. Bessie leaned against the frail hand-rail and gazed into the depths, Severance standing by her s:de. Severance was the first to speak, and when he spoke it was not on the subject of the cataract. “Miss Durand,” he said, “I love you. I ask you to be my wife.” “Oh, Mr. Severance,” replied Bessie with- foaming out. lifting her eyes from the chasm, “I hope that nothing in my actions has led you to”, “Am I to understand that you are about to refuse me?” cried Archie in a menac- ing voice that sounded above the rear of the falling waters. Bessie looked quickly up at him and seeing a dark frown on his brow, drew slightly away from him. “Certainly I am going to refuse you. I have known you scarcely more than a week.” - “That has nothing to do with it. I tell you, girl, that I love you. Don’t you un- derstand what I say?" “T understand what you say well enough, but I don’t love you. Is not that answer sufficient?” “It would be sufficient if it were true. It is not true. You do leve me. I have seen that for days, for although you have striven to conceal your affection for me, yet it has been evident to everyone, and more especially to the man who loved you. Why then deny what has been patent to all onlookers? Have I not seen your face brighten when I approached you? Have I not seen a welcom!ng smile on your = could have had but one mean- ing? “Mr. Severance,” cried Bessie, in un- feigned alarm, “bave you gone suddenly mad? How dare you speak to me in this fashion?” “Girl,” shouted Archie, grasping her by the wrist, “is it possible that I am wrong in supposing you care for me, and that the only other inference to be drawn from your actions is the true one?” “What other inference?” asked Bessie, in a trembling voice, trying unsuccessfully to withdraw her wrist from his iron grasp. “That you have been trifling with me,” hissed Severance; “that you have led me on and on, meaning nothing; that you have been pretending to care for me when in reality you merely wanted to add one more to the many proposals you have received. That is the alternative. Now, which is the fact? Are you in love with me, or have you been fooling me?” “I told you I was not in love with you, but I did think you were a gentleman. Now, that I see you are a ruffian, I hate you, Let go my wrist; you are hurting me. “Very good; very . the truth at last, and I will teach you the — of making a plaything of a human Severance let go her wrist and seized her around the waist. Bessie screamed and called for help, while the man who held her a helpless prisoner laughed sardoni- cally. With his free hand he thrust aside the frail pme pole that formed a hand-rail to guard the edge of the cliff. It fell into the torrent and disappeared down the cat- aract, “What are you going to do?” cried the girl, her eyes wide with terror. “I intend to leap with you into this abyss; then we shall be united forever.” “Oh, Archie, Archie, I leve you,” sobbed Bessie, throwing her arms around the neck of the astonished young man, who was so amazed at the sudden turn events had taken, that, in stepping back, he nearly accomplished the disaster he had # mo- ment before threatened. “Then why—why,” he stammered, “did you—why did you deny it?’ “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose because I am contrary, or because, as you said, it was so self-evident. Still, I don’t beHeve I would ever have accepted you if you hadn't foreed me to. I have become so wearied with the conventional form of proposal.” “Yes, I suppose it does get rather tire- some,” said Archie, mopping his brow. “I see a bench a little further down; suppose we sit there and talk the matter over.” He gave her his hand, and she tripped daintily down to the bench, where they sat down together. “Ycu didn’t really believe I was such a ruffian as I pretended to be,” said Archie at last. “Why, yes. Aren't you?’ she asked simply, glancing sideways at him, with her most winning smile. “¥ou surely didn’t actually think I was going to throw you over the cliff.” “Oh, E have often heard or read of it being done. Were you only pretending?” “That's all. It was really a little matter of revenge. I thought you ought to be pun- ished for the way you had used those | other pocr fellows. And Sanderson was such a good hand at billiards. I could just beat him.” “You—you said—you cared for me. Was that pretense, too?” asked Bessie, with a catch in her votce. - “No. That was all true, Bessie; and there is where my scheme of vengeance goes lame. You see, my dear giri, E never thought you would look at me; some of the other fellows are ever so much betier than I am, and of course I did not imagine I had any chance. I hope you will forgive me, and that you won't insist on having a real a by withdrawing what you have said.” “I shall have revenge enough on yeu, Archie, you poor, deluded young man, all your life. But never say anything more about ‘the other fellows,” as you call them. There never was any other fellow but you. Perhaps I will show you a littie book some day that will explain everything, althourh | I am not so sure, if you saw au might think worse of me than ever. I think, per- haps, it is my duty to show it to you be- fore it is too late to draw back. Shall 1?” “I absolutely refuse to look at it—now or any other time,” said Archie, magnani- mously, drawing her toward him and kiss- ing her. And Bessie, with a sigh of selief, won- dered why it was that men have so much | less curiosity than women. She was sure WITH ILLUSTRATIONS TO FOLLOW, Now we have | |Huge Petition. Thousands of Mothers Would Sign. Every Little Village and Small Town. Multitudes of Homes in the Great Cities To be Represented on Enormous Roll. People with World-Wide Repu- tations Lead the Way. Great Work of Paine’s Celery te city. Such a growing testimonial would receive ad- @iticrs from every tiny village end small town, not to mention the cities, on its journey across the United Stites. It would be signed by thousands of women no longer tortured by sleeplessness, patns in the back and sides, continnal headaches, Pepsin and Bright’s disease. ‘There would be fully as many men who had been Permanently cured of kidney amd liver diseases and rescued from chronic bad health by means of this great invigorater. A vast number of children would be represented to tertify to the ability of Paine’s celery com- pound to restore a healthy appetite, to take away that constant tired feeling and to purify the blood of harmful bemors. ‘Phe number of testimonials for Puine's cclery compourd from meu and women of high standing iu every state in the Union that have already been Published, would fl a large volume. These tes- timanials have been written without solicitation. They have beem published verbatim: as they were received. Necessarily the testimonials that have publicly appeared bave been but one or tio, here and there, taken almost at random from an enormously large number that every day and every week ‘steadily increases. Besides, it s to be remembered that not one tithe of all the magnificent cures fairly due to Puine's celery compound ever get beyond the knowledge of the fmmediate family; that, im fact, few people have any appreciation of the number | of families throughout the Unlted States where Paine’s celery compound is Kept constantly on bend’ and ts being taken or has been taken by some one of its members. Paine’s celery compound bas already done an enormous work. It has saved lives. It has saved health. It has saved bomes. But its work as the greatest nerve aud’ brain strengtbener and restorer the world has known, is only well started. It ts not beyond ihe reach of the most modest housebold, while a much greater eapenditure will procure nothing else so effective. Paine’s celery compound, the remedy that makes people well, is within reach of all! that if he had hinted at any such secret she would never have resied~until she knew what it was. —_———_—_ “The Knock-Out” at Auctions. From Ghambers’ Journal. There are, we will suppose, inga certain sale half a dozen “lots” of choice old china. Four first-class dealers in this property at- tend the auction; call them A, B, C and D. It is mutually arranged that A shall do the bidding and the remaining three keep silent. We will suppose, with a view to simplicity, that each of these six lots is worth to a dealer £4, but as our four friends are prob- ably the only persons in the room who could dispose of such property, and who under- stand its value, and, as they refrain from competing, it is not at all surprising to find that the six lots are bought by A at the rate of 10 shillings apiece. So much for the first stage in the plot. The | Sale being conchided, A, B, C, and D for- gather at some obscure public house, where they can have the use of a private room, and then begins the second auction. Lot No. 1 is offered, and, after some competition, is allotted to C, for, let us say, £ 10s. He | pays over this sum to A, who acts as auc- tioneer, and who, after deducting the 10s. he has paid for the lot, proceeds to divide the balance of £3 among the members of the party. Consequently, C gets his piece of china for £3 10s. and 15s. back into the bar- gam, while the others each receive a like amount. So with the next let, which D buys for more or less, as the case may be; and, in fact, the procedure as quoted may Serve as an illustration of how the affair is conducted throughout. — — ree - Mated. From Judge. “7 He—“That was a queer freak of Price’s-- marrying a woman twice his age. I won- der how it came about?” She—“Naturally enough. He was with- out money and she was without Price.” —_—___-+e-— New People. From fun. Chunk—“Doesn’t a you feel fairly mad?” Quiverful. Yes; but she’s not so bad as | @ new bal ‘New Woman’ make He—“A bore like a microbe? I give it uj “Because it takes a long time to freeze for him.” him out, but you can easily make it too hot 7: nd corner 15) B streets, where orders jences. SM. PREVOST, 8 ‘ose and Thi furnished, ‘of perm NICHOLS: 2d and Wi RAILROADs. SourHERN (BatLway, ~ Piedmont ir Line. in effect December 30, 1995. All trains arrive snd Wave xt Pennsylvania Passenger Station. 8:00 A.M.—Daily—Locsl for Dam‘ tile. Connects at for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday, and at Lynchburg with the ‘Norfolk and Western dally, and wih C & 0. dally for Natural Bridge aud Cito Fore 1S A. Washington to Jacksonville, unit! lotte with Pullman Sleeper Yor augusta’ also Pull. mm Sleeper Aew York to New Orleaus vin Mont- Komery, , coune-ting at = vep-r for Birmingham, Memphn. md St. “01 P.M.—Local for Scrasvurg. daily, Daily—teeal tor Da tesvilie. AND SOUTH. Chariot !ly—WASHINGTON VeSCIBULED LIMITED, wed sleep rs, Pullman Sleepers New Springs, N.C.; New York to Memphis via r am. Nex York to New via At- lanta and Montgomery, and New York to Tampa via Chariottc, Coium).a and Jacksonville, Vesti- buled Day Coach Washington to Atlanta. Dining Car from Gren boro” & alon.gomery. TRAINS iE) WEEN WASHI\GTON AND ROUND leave Washington %:01 A.M. P.M. daily. except ‘Sunday, and for Round Hill; 4;32 P. P nV, Coaches, and Hot Bi days only, Sunday, for Leestug, ad ‘6:25 Herndon. Return ng arrive A.M. and 33 AM. daily, AM. cay, ht tes rvati n S11 and 1300 Pennsylvania ave- pue, and at Penusyivania Railroad Passenger Sta- BALTIMORE AXD OHIO RAILROAD. Schedule im effect December 1, 1895. Leave Washington from stativa corner of New “y avenoe and C st. For Clicago aud Norihwrst, Vestibuled Limited trajus 11:30 a. i For Cincinuatt, St. Louis vuled Limited 2.45 p.m., For Pittsburg acd Ch 2m and 8:40 p. ror Lexingion aud Stauntca, 11:30 a.m. For Winchester way stations, *5.30 Roanoke, PUILADELPE: potter, Muuinated with ‘or delphia, New York, East, week d-ys (7:00, tech light. "Boston ‘end the Car), 3:00 40:00 a.m., Dining Car), ‘Cary, 3:00 11.90 (23 8:03 D.nung Car), trains. a wget ~—4 11-30 am., 12:30 a. 30 p.m. “Batis. WSundays only. 5 xExpress (rains, Bagsage calied tor «nd checked frum botels and mion Transfer residences by U1 ‘Co. on orders left ut ticket offices, 619 P ‘avenne morthwest, New York nd 15%b street and at t. ‘EB CAMPBELL. Gaas 0. soUct. a 5 7 Gen. Pass. Agt. CHESAPEAKE AXD OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect Novensber 7, 18¥5. Treins ieavs daily from Union Station (3. and P.), 6th and B sts. the grandest fm America, with and most solid train serv- and St. Lou! ‘Chariott. le, cipal Virginia pt Tis and "421 Pemuapiconts ar chet ere ense. = 8, W. PULLER, nol8 General Passenger Agent. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of Gth and B streets In effect November 17, 1895. 10:30 A.M. PENNSYLVANIA LIMITED.—Pullman . Dining. and Observation Care Cary. Harcisharg. 10:30 FAST LINE.—Puliman Baffet Parlor Car tc Garrisbers. Parlor and Dining Cars, Harrisburg to Pittsbarg. 3:40 PM. CAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS.— Pullman Buffet Pario- car to Tins is, ing and Dining Cars, Horrisbarg to St. Gincianatt, Lauisvilie and Chica: 7:10 Pal. Wi ing Car Ie and cee! ira amd Reno for Wiitia fer, ic and 16:40 P.M. for Erie. Canandaigua, Rochester, Buf- falo and Niagara Fails daily, Sleeping Car Wash- ington“to Eimirs. Car from Witm’ 5 1000 and 138 Pa Fast 70 A 1218 week dap, 2:01 and rf os 5-06, 1: 3:18 '2"40 (4-00 Limited 6:40, 7:10, 1 0 40, On ,' 7:20, 9:00, » 1:13, 2-0, 3:15, 3 & Fe . 6-05. 6:46, 7:10, “10 yr ove Creck Line, 7:20 AM. and 4:36 P.3I. daily, a nday. For Ai is, 7:20, 9:00 A.M., 12:15 and 4:20 Pa aay. ered Sunday. Sundays, 9:00 A.M. Allautic Coast Line. Bx - 30, AM. 8:40 week theo, 235, 7:45, 8: 45, 1 240, 3:20, 4:25, 5:00, 5 11:39 P.M.” Gn Sanday at 1S, 8202 aud 10:10 "Alexandria for Was 6:05, 6:43, 7: 290, rT u i aw 00, 2: Sion, 3, 7:00," 7: sonville and Tampa, 4: Richmond and Atlanta, ‘mond only, 10:57 A.M. Accommodation for Qu: 225 PAM week days. 1 4 vE two of Dr. ‘There is Brothers’ in- no remedy equal to 50 years In this city. 906 B s.w.n0-2m* NO FEE UNTIL CURED. Leatherman, Ww. in the treatment and cure forms of PRIVATE DISEASES. HYDECCELE, VARICOCELE. STKICTURES, nanently cured. Vitality restored. Consultation free. Hours, # to 12 a.m. 2 pm Turedas, ‘Thuredas aod Baturday sted to cl 2 Fst. EXPERT SPECIALIST to 5 st to & Sunoays, \ie _UNDERTAKERS. ra. = a Dc. : ire mae x im W. R. Speare, Undertaker & Embalmer, 980 F Street Northwest. Everything strictl; reasonable terms. first-class and on the most ‘eleptone call 310. dal-tr a : ; Pe