Evening Star Newspaper, July 3, 1897, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 3, 1897-24 PAGES. “SHREWSBURY.” BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. ——e (Copyright, 1897, by Stanley J. Weymas.) Written for The Evening Star. Chapter VI — Continued From Last Saturday. But I was going to cry, and did, breaking fown like a child, and that not so much at the thought of the desperate strait to “hich she had brought me, though this ¥as no other than the felon’s dock, with the prospect of disgrace, and to be whip- ped or burned in the hand at the best, and if I had my benefit—but at the sudden con- viction, which came upon me, perfect and overwhelming, that my mistress, for whom I had risked so much, did not love me! In no other way and on po other theory could I explain callousness so complete. thoughtlessness so cruel! Nor did her next words tend to heal the mischief or ve me comfort. ‘Oh! she exclaimed, flouncing from me with impatient contempt, and waiking on the other side of the way, “if you are gcing to be a cry-baby, thank you for noth- ing! I thought you were a man!” And she began to hum an air. iy God! I don’t think you care!” I sobbed, aghast at her insensibility. The Lattice Swang Ope: “Care?’ she retorted indifferently, swing- ing her vizor in her hand. “For what?” “For me or for anything!” With a coolness that appalled me she fin- ished the verse she was humming. Then, “Your finger hurts. Therefore, you are going to die! she said with a sneer. “You see the fre, and therefore you must be burned. Why, you have the courage of a hen, a flea, a’ mouse! You are not worth the name of a man.’ “I am man enough to be hanged,” 1 arswered miserably. “Hanged?” quoth she, quite cheerfully. “Do you think that any man was ever | harged for three guine “Ay, scores,” I said. nd for less!" ‘Then they must have been cravens like you!” she retorted, perfectly well satis- ted with her answer. “And spun their own ropes. Come, silly, cheer up! A great many things may happen in a week! And if that vixen is back under a week I will eat her!” ‘A week won't make three guineas,” I 4 dolefully. No, but a good heart will,”" she rej ined. “And not three. but thirty! Only,” she continued, looking askance at me, “yon | have not the spirit of a man. You are | just Tumbledown Dick, as they say, and as well-named as ninepence.” It seemed inconceivable to me that she could jest so merrily and carry herself so gayly after such a loss, and I stopped short, in sudden hope and newborn ex- pectation, and peered at her, s ving to read her thoughts. ve you lost them!” ery groat, Dick,” yet still in the best of spirits. doubt that.” in it was not wonderful that my i | | | dis: and her cheerfuiness agt came to bitter words, | and, beginning calling ene another thankless and clutch-penny, rose presently to feol and jade, and eventually parted on the latter at the garden fence, where | Dorinda, so far from lingering as on the former night, flounced from me in a pas- siun, and left me without a word of re- How miserably after that I stole to and how wakefully I tossed in the arret, I cznmnot nope to cenvey to readers. Suffice it that a hundred times I cursed the folly that had led me to ruin, a hundred es went hot and id at thought of the dock and the gal- and yet, amid all, found in Baars elt h easness the sharpest pain. t sure row, and told myself continually, that she had never loved m Therefore—at the I deemed my own seemed to follow Jove at an end, and cast her off, and heap- | es on her head, arpest reprod y one sweet consolation—wher-zat I wept miserably—in composing a_ last dying speech and confession that should en at length that obdurate bosom and k that unfeeling heart. and the rising to im- | merning we n terrors and an hourly fear of de- tectior came first regret, then self-re- proach—iest 1, too, should be somewhat in fault—then a revival of passion; le a frantic yearning to be reconciled to the only person to whem I could speak freely, or who knew the danger and strait which I stood. My heart melting like wa- ter at the thought, I was ready to do any- in | thing or say anything, to abase myself to | any depth, to regain her favor and have her advice, and the absence of Mr. and Mrs. i Mrs. Harris’ easiness rendering it r of no difficulty to seek her, in of the afternoon I took my my hands and went into the ‘Ehere 1 found only Mrs. Har- the courage in next hovse. ris “The lit le slut has stepped out,” she said, looking up from the pot over which she had been stooping. “She asked leave for half an hour and has been gone an hour. But it ts the way of the wenches all the world ever. Do you beware of them, Mr. Price,” she continued, eyeing me and lnughing jollily. I made some trifling answer, and, tu 9 my own domain, with ali the pangs of loneliness added to those of ter- ror, sat Gown in the dingy, dreary school room 2 If to bitter fore- bo er could have ic it now. Yet or go mad. I mu of ner, or of the cart and cord: and ; forth, I had only eyes for the next garden and ears for her voice. Th boys and their chattering and the neces ft and fel NOTHING Tell me, doctor, what+do you con re- | { | peated the words sity I was under of playing my part be- fore them well nigh mastered me. For, at any kcur, on any day, while I sat there among them, Mr. and Mrs. D. might re- turn and the loss be discovered; and yet, though time was everything, all the efforts I made to se Jennie or get speech with her failed, and of myself, 1 seemed to be unatle to think out any plan or way of escape. I am sure that the most ascetic, could he have weighed the tortures of those four days during which I sat surrounded by the boys, now making frantic efforts to eppear myself, now sunk in a staring pale-faced lethargy of despair, would have deemed them a punishment more than com- mensurate with my guilt. The unusual air of peace and quietness with which Mrs. D.'s absence invested the school availed no mors to soothe me than the presence of Mrs. Harris noddirg over her plain stitch in the next garden availed to banish the burning gusts of fear that at times parch- ed my skin. At length, on the fifth day, the first warning of approaching judgment arrived In the shave of a letter, anacunc- ing that my employer would return (D. V.) by the night wagon, which in the or- dinary course was due to reach Ware about 4 next morning. At that I could stand the strain no lon- ger, but flinging appearances and deception to the winds, I rose from the class 1 was pretending to teach, and in a disorder I nade no effort to suppress followed Mrs. Harris, who, having declared the news, was already wadaling back to the next house. She started at sight of me follow- ing her—as she well might, for it was the busiest time of the day—then asked if any- thing ailed me. jo,” I said. “I want a word witli Jen- Do you?” quoth she, looking hard at “So, it would seem, do a good many young fello She is a nice handful, if ever there was one.” Why?" I s:ammered. Why?" she answered, in a tone very sharp for ker. “Why, because—but what have you to do with Jennie, young man?” “Nothing,” 1 said.” “Then have nothing,” she answered promptly, and shook her sides at her sharpne:s. “That is no puzzle! And as it is han 10:20, and I hear your boys rampaging like so many wild Irishmen, Suppose you go back to them, young man I obeyed, but whatever effect her warn- Ing might have had earlier—and I shrewd- ly suspect that it would have affected me as much as water affects a duck’s back—it came too late; my one desire being now to see the girl, even as my one hope lay in her advice. Nine had struck that evening, however, and night fallen, and 1 grown fairly sick with fear before my efforts were rewarded, and, stealing into the gar- den on a last desperate search—I think for the twentieth time—I came on her standing in the dusk by the fence where I had so often met her. PART Iv. Chapter VI—Continued. I sprang to her stde, relief at my heart, reproaches on my lips; but it was only to recoil again at sight of her face, grown hard and old and pinched, and, for the moment, almost ugly. “Why, child!” I cried, forgetting my own trouble. “What Is it? She laughed without mirth and looked at me strangely. “What do you suppose?” she said, huskily, and I could see fear was on her. “Do you think that you are the only one In danger?” “How?” I exclaimed. How?" she replied, in a tone of mockery. “Why, do you suppose that stockings and shoes are the only things that cost money? Or that vizor masks and gloves and hoods grow on bushes? Briefly, fool, if you can give me four guineas I am saved.. [f rot—” My God!" I eried, horror stricken. “If not,” she continued, hard: ly, have taught me to read, and that may save my neck. plantations, to be beaten weekly, and work in the sun, and— “Four guineas!” I groaned. “Yes, seven in all!” she answered, with a sneer. “Have you got them? “No, nor 2 I answered, over- whelmed discovery that ins giving help she needed it. a@ penny it_ must be got : fiercel: It must be got as she re- he dropped her mocking tone and spoke with feverish energy. “It must be got, Dick!" And she seized my hands and held them. “it must be and can you have a spark of spirit, if you are poor, mean thing I sometimes think . Listen! In the s—the door i I have tried tt ‘ixty 1 by the he Kk from her not do it hen we hang! wered, fiercely er to hang fo! seven guine ble locked; eas in a bag; er of the old bureau I cried, feebly, recoiling 3 I spoke. 5 “I dare not! I du . We hang, man!” You and I! Will tt a lamb than a sheep? s than for sixty it, what shall w she the id, weakly. Te- y the morning, given the money, we shall be a score of miles away!” she an- swered, flinging her arms round my neck aging on my breast, while Yer hot th fanned my cheek. No wonder I in ree? and my will me y from here, Dick,” she softly repeat nd together!” I made one effort to withstand her. “You forget the door,” I said. “If the door ad Mrs. Haris sleeps in the next ean it be don the door, but by the window,” . firmly. “There is a ladder in garden from this: and the latch of the window is weak. The old fool in- doors sleeps like a log. By 11 she will be seund asleep. And, oh, Dick!” my mistress cried, breaking down’ on a sudden, and snatching my hands to her bosom,’ “will you see me shamed? Play the man for ten minutes only, for ten minutes only, and by hall be safe and far from here! And together, Dick! Together. Was it likely, I ask, was it possible, that I should long resist that holding her in my arms, in the warm summer night, with her hair on my breast, while the moon sailed overhead and a cricket chirped in the wall hard by—was It likely or possible, I say, that I should steel my heart against her? hat I should turn from the cup of pleas- ure, who had tasted as yet so few delights, and drudged and been stinied all my life? Whose appetite had known no daintier rel- ish than the dull round of dumpling and bacon, or at the best salt meat and spin- nach? and who for sole companionship had been shut in, June days and December nights altke, with a band of mischievous hoys, such as the ancients justly called genus improbum. At any rate, I did not: to my shame, great or small, according as I shall be harshly or charitably judged, i did not; but with a beating heart and choked votce I gave my word and left her, and an hour later crept down the creaking stairs for the last time, guilty and shiver- ing, a bundle in my hand, to find her wait- ing for me in the old place. I confess that the flurry of my spirits was such as to disturb my judgment; and my passion for my mistress being no long- er of the higher kind, these two things may account for the fact that I felt no wender or repulsion when she explained coolly and in detail where the bureau stood and in what part of it lay the money, and ond BETTER. ider an ideal case?” “A healthy man with au incurable disease.” “you | 1 suppose I shall be sent to the | j the even added that I had better bring away a | the latter hung thirty feet above the paved pair of silver candlesticks which I should find in another place. By the time she had made these things clear to me the lights of the town had long been extinguished, and the house obseuring the moon cast 2 black shadow on the garden that greatly favored our movements, and, though ail went well with us, yet for myself I trem- bled at the faintest sound, and started if a leaf stirred, and willingly believe to this day that the smallest trifle, a light at a window, or a distant voice, would have de- terred me from the adventure. But noth- ing occurred to hinder or alarm, and the darkness cloaking us effectually, and my accomplice directing me where to find the ladder, I fetched it, and with her help oo it over the fence and climbed after It. This was a small thing, the worst being to come. The part of the garden under the wall of the house was paved; it was only with the greatest exertions, therefore, and the utmost care that we could raise the ladder on ft without noise, and but for the surprising strength which Jennie show- ed, I doubt if we could have succeeded, my hands trembled so violently. In the end we raised it, however; the upper part fell lightly beside the second floor case- ment, and Jennie whispered to me to as- cend. I had gone too far to recede, and I obey- ed, and had mounted two steps when I heard distinctly, the sound coming sharp and clear through the night, the shod hoof of a horse paw the ground, apparently in the road beyond the house. Scared by such a sound at such a time, I slid rapidly down into Jennie’s arms. “Hush!” I cried. “Did you hear that? There is some one there!” But my sudden descent had come near to knocking her down, and she whispered in @ rage that I was either the biggest fool or the poorest craven in the world. “Go up! Go up!” she continued fiercely, almost striking me in her excitement. “There are 60 guineas awaiting us up there—60 guin- eas, man, and you budge because a horse stirs.” “But what is it doing there?” I remon- strated. “A horse at this time of night!” “God knows!” she answered. “What ts it to us?” Still I lingered a moment, but hearing nothing, and thinking I might have been mistaken, I was ashamed to hang back longer, and I went up, though my legs trembled under me, and a bird darting sud- denly out of the ivy glued me to the ladder by both hands, with the sweat standing out on my face. Alone, nothing on earth would have persuaded me to it, but with Jennie below I dared not flinch, and the latch of the window‘proving as weak as she had described it, in a moment the lat- tice swung open and I climbed over the sill. Feeling the floor with my feet, I stood an instant In the dark, stuffy room and listen- ed. It smelt strongly of herbs, on which account I hate that smell to this day. I could hear Mrs. Harris snoring next door, and the pendulum of the fine new clock on the stairs, which was Mrs, D.’s latest pride, going to and fro regulariy, and I knew that at the slightest alarm the house would awake. But I had gone too far to recede, and, though I feared and sweated and at the touch of a hand must have screamed aloud, I went forward, groping my way across the floor, and found the bureau and tried the drawer. It was locked, but crazily; and Jennie, foreseeing the obstacle, had given me a chisel. Inserting the point, I listened a while to assure myself that all was quiet, and then, with the resolution of despair, forced the drawer open with a_ single wrench. Probably the noise was no great one, but to my ears {ft rang through the night like the crack of laden tce. I heard the sleeper in the next room cease her snoring and turn in the bed, and, cower- ing down on the floor, I gave up all for lost. But in a moment she began to breathe again, and, encouraged by that and the silence in the house, 1 drew the drawer open, feeling for the bag, discover- ed it and, clutching it firmly, turned to the grindo J round that Jennie had mounted the lad- der and was looking into the room, with her hands on the stil. “Have you got it?” she whispered, thrusting in her arm and groping for me. “Then give it to me while you get the candlesticks. They are wrap- ped in flannel and are under the bed. I gave her the bag, which clinked as tt passed from hand to hand, then I turned obediently, and groping my way to the bed, which stood beside the bureau, I felt under it. I found nothing, but did not give up. he candlesticks might lie on the further side, and accordingly I rose and climbed over the bed and tried again, pass- ing my hends through the flue and dust which gathered under Mrs. D.'s best feath- ers. How long I might have searched in the dark, and vainly, I cannot say, for my efforts were brought to a premature end by a dull thud that came to my ears ap- parently from the next room. Leaping to the conclusion that it could be caused by nothing less than Mrs. Harris getting out of bed, I crawled out and to my feet in a panic, and stood quaking and listening in ark, so terrilied that I am sure If the good woman had entered at that moment I should have simply fallen on my knees before her and confessed. Nothing tol- lowed, however; the house remained quiet. I heard no second sound, but my nerve was gone. I wanted nothing so much now as to be out of the place, and, without giv ing another thought to the candlestic! I groped my way to the window, and, pa ing one leg over the sill, felt hurriedly tor the ladder. I failed to find it, and tried again, then, peering down, called Jennie by name. She did not answ A second ume I called, and felt about with my foot, and still without sucesss. Then as it dawned upon me at last that the ladder was really gone, and I a prisoner, I thought of prudence no longer, but called frantically, at first in a whisper, and then a oudly as I dared, called and called again, “Jennie! Jennie!” Sull no answer came; but listening in- tently, in one of the intervals of silence, I caught the even beat of hoofs receding along the road and growing each moment less marked. They held me. Searcely breathing, I listened to them until they died away in the stillness of the summer night, and only the sharp, insistent chirp of the cricket, singing in the garden be- low, came to my ears. Chapter VII. How long I hung at the window, at one time stunned and stricken down by the catastrophe that had befallen me, and at another feeling frantically for the ladder which I had over and over again made sure was not there, I know no more than an- other; but only that after a time suspicion first and then rage darted lightning-like through the stupor that clouded my mind, and I awoke to all the tortures that love outraged by treachery can feel; with such pangs and terrors added as only a faith- ful beast, bound and doomed and writhing under the knife of his master, may be sup- posed to endure. For a wrile, it is true, imagining that Jennie, terrified by some one’s approach, had lowered the ladder and withdrawn herself, and so would presently return to free me, I hoped against hope. But as minutes passed and yet more minutes, laden only with the cricket's even chirp and the rustling of the wind in the poplars, and still failed to bring her, the sound of retreating hoofs which I had heard re- curred to my mind with dreadful signiti- cance, end on the top of it a hundred sus- pictous circumstances, amcng which, as her sudden passion when I had taken fright at the foot of the ladder was not the least, so her avoidance of me during the last few days and her frequent absences from the house, spoken of by Mrs. Harris, had their weight. In fine, by the light of her deser- tion after receiving the plunder and while I sought the candlesticks—which I had now convinced myself were not there—many things obscure before, or to which I had willfully shut my eyes, as her callousness, her greed, her recklessness, stood out plainly, while these again, being coolly considered, reflected so seriously on her as to give her sudden departure the worst possible appearance, even In a lover’s eyes. The days kad been when I would not have believed stch a thing of her at the mouth of an angel from heaven. But much to which my passion had blinded me, tem- porarily only, had happened since; so that tt needed but a flash of searing light to make ail clear and convince me that she had not only left me, but left me trapped— pene bad given up ail and risked all for er! In the first agony of rage and pain wrought by a ccnviction so horrible 1 could think only of her treac! and my loss. and, head to knees on the bare floor of the room, wept as if my heart would break, or choked with the sobs that seem- ed to rend my breast. And. little wonder, seeing that I had given her a boy's first devotion, and that of all sins ingratitude has the sharpest todih! But to this par- oxysm, when I had nearly exhausted my- self, came end and antidote im the shape of fear, which, suddenly my soul roused me from roy susie of grief and set me to pecing room in # dreadful panic, trying now the door and now the window, but both in vain, the former be- ing lockea and resleting the chisel, while yard. Thus caught and snared, as neatly as any bird in a spring, I had no resource but in my wits, and for a time, as I had noth- ing of which I could form a ®ope, busied hyself with the expedient of throwing out the feather bed and leaping upon it. But when I had dragged it to the window and came to measure the depth I recoiled, as the most desperate might, ‘rom the leap, and, softly returning the bed to its place, fell to biting my nails or fitfully roamed from place to place, according as despair or some new hope possessed me. In one or other of these noods the dawn found me; and then in a surprisingly shcrt time I heard the dreadful sounds of life begin around mee and creeping to the win- dow I closed it and crouched down on tke floor. Presently. Mrs. Hazris began to stir, and a boy walked whistling across the adjacent yard; and then—strangest of all things and not to be invented—in the crisis of my fate, with the feet of those who mvst detect me almost on the stairs, I fell sleep, and awoke only when a key grated in the lock of the room, and I started up to find Mr. D. in the doorway staring at me, and behind him a crowd of piled-up faces. “Why, Price,” he eried with a look of stupefaction as he came slowly into the rcom. “What is the meaning of this?” ‘Then I suppose my shame and guilty silence told him, for with a sudden scowl and an oath he strode to the bureau and dragged out the dfuwer. A glance showed nim that the money was gone, and shout- ing frantically to those at the door to keep it—to keep It—though they were a half dczen to one—he clutched me by the breast of my coat and shook me until my teeth chattered. “Give it up,” he cried, spluttering with rage. “Give it up, you beggar's brat! cr by heaven you shall hang for it. But as I had nothing to give up, and could not speak, I burst into tears, which, with the odd part I had played in staying in the room to be taken, and perhaps my innocent air aroused the neighbors’ surprise, who, crowding round, asked him sclicitous- ly what was missing. He answered, after a moment's hesitation, sixty guineas. One had already clapped his hands over my clothes, and another forced my mouth open, but cn this they desjsted and stood full of admiration. - “He cannot have swalloweé that,” said the most active, gaping at me. a “No, that is certain. But what beats me. cried another, looking round, “is how he got here.” - “To say nothing of why he stayed here! “Tl tell you what,” quoth a third, shak- ing hig head, “there is some hocus pocus in this. And I should not wonder, neigh- bors, if the Catholics were at the bottom of Sy ‘The theory appeared to commend itself to more than cne—for they were ail of the fanatical party—but was swept to the winds by the entrance of Mrs. D., who having heard of the robbery, came in like a whirlwind, with her face on fire, and made no more ado, but rushed upon me, and tore and tlapped my cheeks with all her might, crying with each blo You nasty thief, will that teack you better man- ners? That for your roguery! And that! Oh, you jaiibird, I'll teach yo How long she would have continued to chastise me I cannot say, but her husband presently stepped In to protect me, and, be- ing thorougnly winded, she let me go pret- ty willingly. But when she learned, hav- ing hitherto been under the impression that I kad been seized in the act, with the money upon me, that the latter could not be found, her face turned yellow, and she sat down in a chair. “Have you searched?” she -gasped. “Jiverywhere,” the neighbors answered her. = “He must have thrown It through the window!" Z { They shook their heads. On that she jumped up and looked at me with a cold spite in ner face that made me shiver. “T I will tell you what it is,” she said. “He has given it to that hessy; and she has taken it! But I will have it out of htm; where the money 1s, end she is, ao he got in. Mr. D., when you havejflone standing there like a gaby, tetch ajstout cane, and do you lay him acrcss that bed! And if we do not cut it out of his skin his name is not Rich- ard Price. I wi: { had the wench here, and I would serve her the same.’ I screamed, and fell on my knees as they laid hands on me; but Mrs. D. was a wo- man without bowels,.and the men were complaisant and not pnwilling to see the cruel sport of the: usher. flogged, and it would have gone hard MMe in spite of my prayers if the con: le had not ar- rived at that moment and requested with dignity to see his prisoner. Introduced to me, he stared; and, moved, I believe, by an impulse of pity, said I was young to hang. “Aye, but not too good!” Mrs. D. answer- ed shrilly, her head trembling with pas- sion. “He and the hussy that ts gone have robbed me of 80 guineas in a green bag, as I am prepared to swear!’ “Sixty, Mrs. D.,” said her husband, iook- ing a warning at her and then askance at his neighbors. “Odds take the man, does :t matter to a guinea or two,” she retorted, but her sal low face flushed a little. t any rate,” she continued, pressing her thin Mps_ to- gether and nodding her head viciously, “sixty or eighty, they have taken then!” But one of the neighbors, it seemed, had a word to say to that. ‘As to the girl, I am not so sure, Mrs. D he struck in ponderously. “If she is theawenzh that has been carrying on with the gentl>man at the Ros e has otker fish to fry. Though I don’t say, mind you, that she has not! been in this.” But Mrs. D. could restrain hers longer. “Only? Only! gentlema Rose,” she cried. “Why man, are you 2 What has my maid, do you think— though maid, she is but a dirty drab, and more is the pity I took her out of charity from gthe parish—she was Kitty Higgs’ baset$rn brat, as you know—what has she to do with gentlemen at the Ros: “Well, that is not for me to say,” the man answered quietly. “Only I know that for a week or more a wench has been walking with the gentleman in the roads and so forth, by night as well as by day I came upon them twice myself nard by here; and though she was dressed more like @ fine madam than a servant girl, I watched her into your house. And for the rest, Mrs. Harris must know more than I 0. But, Mrs. Harris, when Mrs. D. turned on her in a white rage, could only cover her head and weep in a corner: as much, I believe, out of sorrow for me as on ker own account. However, the fact that the good-natured woman had left Jeany pretty much to her own devices could not be had, and Mrs. D. had much to say on it. But when she talked of sending after the bag- gage and jailing her, ay, and the gentle- man at the Rose, too, if he could not pay the money, the ‘constable pursed up his ips. “It is to be remembered that he came with his Royal Highness, our grazious Prince,” he said, pufting out his cheeks with importance.’ “And though it be true he ordered his horses and went to Lonton last evening—as I know myself, haying seen him go, and scen him before, for the matter of that, at Hertford Assizes, for he is a counsellor—it does not follow that the Wench went with him. Or, if she did, Mrs. “That she had anything to do with this mone the neighbor who had spolen before put in. “Precisely, Mr. Jenkins,” the constable answered. “For my part.” he continued, looking around a’ littlé defiantly, “I am no whig, and I am not meddling with court gentlemen, and least of all lawyers. And it you take my advice. Mr. D., you will be satisfied to lay this young jailbird by the heels: and if he does not speak before the rope is round his neck it is not likely that you will get your money other ways. But, Lord,” the goodman went on, standing back from me to, view me the better, “he is young to be suth a'villain! It is ‘broke and entered, too,’ and’so he will swing for it.” And she took off Kis hat and wiped his bald head, while“he gazed at me between pity and admiratién. Mrs. D., who was very far from sharing either of these feéling#! would have had me taken at once before a justice and com- mitted. But the constable, partly to prove his importance, and partly, I believe, to give me a chance of disclosing where the money lay before it was too late, would have the house and garden searched and all the boys examined, under the impres- sion that I might have had one of these for my -accomplice. Naturally, however, nothing came of this, except the discovery that I had been out of nights iately, which had scarcely been made, when who should appear on the scene, in an unlucky } hour for me, but the gentleman wno had identified me outside the gaming room at the Rose. As he had come for the very Ptrpose of laying a complaint against me, his story destroyed the last scrap of my credit, by exhibiting me as @ Secret rake, and this removing all doubt of my guilt, if any was still entertained. even by Mrs. Harris, it was determined to convey me, dinner over, to Sir Baldwin Winston's, Standstead, to be committed, the two jus- tces who resided in Ware being at the moment disabled. All this time, and while my fate was be- ing decided, I listened to one and another in a dull despair, which deprived me of the power io defend myself,and from which nothing less than Mrs. D.’s atrocious pro- posal to flog me until I gave up the money could draw me, and that only for a mo- trent. Conscious of my gutit, and seized in the act and on the scene of my crime, I beheld only the sure prospect of punish- ment, while I had not the temptation to tell all and inform against my crafty ac- complice, to which a knowledge of her destination must have exposed me. Be- | the back of a chair, and showed a bald head and flushed face that agreed ill wtth his laced cravat and embroidered coat Standirg with his feet apart and his arm ovtstre'ched, be was not immediaicly | aware of our entrance, but continued to ad- | drees his companion in words that were co- herent enough, yet betrayed how he had been en:ployed. “Crop-cared knaves, my lord, | them, and I one!” he cried. jovially came to a halt a Hittle within the await his pleasure—I a and sinking heart. half of THE USHER FI sides, apathy was due stunning eff and I think a great part of to this, I still felt the blow which her cruel treache! dealt me. I saw her in her true light, and as I sat, weeping silently, and seeming to those who watched me litle moved, I was thinking at least as much of the past, and my love, and her craft, as of the fate that lay before me. Although this was presently brought be- fore me, and of all persons by Mrs. Harris. Mrs. D. would haye let me neither have bit nor sup in the house, but the constable in- my the sisting that the king's prisoner must 1} fed, Mrs. Harris, tearful and shaking, w: allowed to bring me some broken victuals. These set before me, the good soul, instead of retiring, pottered aimlessly about, and by and by got behind me: on which I felt in a moment something cold and sharp at the nape of my neck and started up. Bursting into a flood of tears she plumped down on a seat, and I saw that she had a pair of scissors and a scrap of my hair in her hand. “Good Lord!” T said. Doubtless the tone in which T spoke be- trayed me, for the constable man, who was in charge of me, laughed brutally. “Gad, if he does not think she did it out of love!” he cried, speaking to a friend who was sitting with him, “when the old dame only wants a charm for the rheumat and thinks the chance too good to be lost Then I remembered that the hair of a} ged man is in that part held to be sov- reign for the rheumatics; and I sat down, feelin cold and faint. PART v. Chapter VIIT. That saying, though a small thing, and a foolish one, brought my state home to | e and filled me with so grisly a forebod- ing of the gibbet that henceforth I gave my treacherous mistress no more thought | than she deserved—which was little; but became wholly taken up with my own fate, and especially the recollection of a man whom I had once seen, pitched and hanging in chains, at Much Hadham cross- roads. The horrible spectacle he had be- come, when ten days dead, grew on my mind, until I groveled and sweated In a green terror, and that not so much at the prospect of death—though this sent me hot and cold in the same instant—as of the harsh rope about my neck, and the sack- ing bands and the « ul apparatus and the grinning, loathsome thing I must be- swooning at the thought, I sank huddled into the chair, ard was plucked up by the constable’s assistant, who, see- ing my state, came forward, and, though naturally a coarse fello > to hearten ig that there was always hope un. art moved, and that many a m death v drinking the king with an oath or tH th cast for health in the plantat two, and in a loud v On that a last Nicker of pride came to my aid; and tr: t his eye I mut- tered that it w. that f was not afraid; and that at worst I should be burn: ed in the hand. “Lo be su) athirst, however, to get some fur- from him, and, tixing my Tace, asked hoarsely: “You think that it is certain?” “Certain sure, my Tob: he answered. But I saw that he wink, and I heard the latter he took his t again to his comrade, him softly, as lad cheat the han; an “Not he! was the reply, uttered in a whisper, but terror sharpened my ears. “There was so long a list at the last as- sizes, and half of them legit, that it was en out they would override it this time und make examples. And 10 to 1 he will swing, Benn.” “But is it the law?” I did not hear the answer for the drum- ming in my ears and the dreadful contu- sion in my brain, which were such that I was not aware of the constable’s entrance or of anything that happened after that until I found myself in the road, climbing clumsily .on a pony in the middle of a throng of staring, curious faces. My feet being secured under the beast’s_ belly-—at which some gave a hand, while others stood off, whispering and looking strangely at me—the constable mounted himseif, and shouting to his wife that he-shouid take me on to Hertford jail, and should not be Lack until late, led me out of the crow Mr. D. and Mr. Jenkins bringing up the rear. The last I saw of the schooi tite boys were hanging out of the window to see me go, and Mrs. D. in the doorway, unap- Reased by my misery, was shrilly denoune- ing me, hands and tongue all going, to a group of her gossips. Our road took us past the Rose Inn, and through a great part of the town, but no in pression of either remains with me, my only recollection being of the sunshine that lay over the country, and of the happiness that all creation, all living things, save my doomed self, enjoyed. The bitierness cf the thcught that yesterday I had been xs these, free to move and live and breathe, caused great tears to roll down my chechs: but my companion, whose thoughts had al- ready gone forward to the steward’s room at Sir Winston's, and the entertainment they expected there, took little notice of me; and less after the porter at the lodge told them that there were grand doings at the house, and a great company, includi a lord, come unexpectedly from Londo “I den’t think you'll be welcome,” porter added, looking curiously at me. “Justice's business,” the constable re- plied, sturdily. “The king must be served.” “Ay, that is what you all say when you've something to gain by it!” the porter re- torted. All which I heard idly, not supposing that it meant to me the difference between Nfe and death, fortune and misery; or that in the company come unexpectedly frem London lurked my salvation. If I dwelt on the news at ail, it was only as it might affect me by adding to the shame I felt. But in that I deceived myself; for when the ordeal of waiting in the servants’ hall—where the maids pitied me and would have fed me if I could have eaten—was over, and we were ushered into the parlor, in which Sir Winston, who had newly arisen from dinner, would see us, we found only one gentleman with him. The two steod at the further end of a long, narrow room, in the bay of a large window, that, open to the ground, permit- ted a view of cool sward and yew hedges. That they had had companions, now with- drawn, was clear, not only from the length of the table, which, bestrewn with plates and glasses and half empty fiagons, stretched up the room from us to them, but from uve chairs, thrown down in the hurry of rising, and six or seven others thrust back haphazard against the panels. In the side of the room were four tall, straight windows that allowed the sunshine to fa}i in regular patches on the table, and these, displaying here a Mttle poo! of spill- ed claret, and there a broken tobacco pipe, the ash still smoldering, gave a touch grimness te the elegant disorder. The same incongruity was to be served in tha appearance of the elder the two men. who had hung his periwig a t Will the | | the same again if the times call for it. For | Why? Because it was only so we could keep or get, my lord. And martyrs have been few in my time, though fools plenty.” (To be continued.) — PEARLS AND PEARL SHELL Treasures That Are Taken From the Indian Ocean and Persinn Gulf. In St. Nicholas Capt. H. D. Smith of the | United States revenue cutter service tells of his experiences, “Hunting for Shells,” from the Island of Ceylon to the Dry Tor- | tugas. Capt. Smith sa Pearl shells are valuable, and fine spect- mens are hard to obtain. ‘They are found in the Treamotee, Gambier and Trihual groups of islands. The choicest come from Macassar: these are the white-edged shells, worth $800 a ton, and from these the finest pearl buttons are manufactured. The most celebrated pearl fisheries Ie near the coast of Ceylon, the Persian Gulf and in the waters of Java and Sumatra. The Australian coast in the neighborhcod of Shank’s bay and at Roebuck bay fur- nishes some very large shells, some of them weighing from two to three pounds each. The fisheries of Baja, Gulf of Cali- fornia, are very rich, France controlling the gems procured there. The meat of the | pearl oyster is readily bought by the China- men, who dry the leathery little bivaives or seal them up in cans and ship them to their countrymen in San Francisco. The readily sell upon the spot at 7 to $> per pound. Pearls and tears have for ages been asso- ciated, and the magic virtues of the pearl | were held in high esteem in early times, as they are today with the East Indians. Tt is said that Queen Margaret Tudor, | consort of James IV of Scotland, previous to the battle of Flodden Field, had many presentiments of the disastrous issue of that conflict, owing to a dream she had three nights in succession, that jewels and sparkling coronets were suddenly turned into pearls—which the superstitious be- lieved was a sign of coming widowhood and of tears. Pearls are of various colors, and in India | the red pearls were highly prized by the | Bue s, who used them in adorning Pearls are formed to pro They are due to a 5 v pstance around some irt ing particle, and their composition is the same as that of mother-of-pearl. +o+- A SOCIALISTIC PROBLEM. How a Servent’s Religious Fervor Mixed Up the Household. From Harper's Pazar. This is certainly a socialistic age. An amusing occurrence that happened recently to a New York woman Of taShion illustra‘es the conditions that face us, and that we will probably have to encounter more and | more as socialism progresses. | This lady always employed rather a su- perior ¢ of servants. The moved for the summer to a popular suburb not a hundred miles from New York, where the only Presbyterian church boasted quite a select and fashionable congr tion. One of the undermaids was a Presbyterian, and | the mistress, being a woman of discretion, and wisely wishing to preserve peace and contentment among her attendants, grant- ed to the girl, as to the other servants, the lege of attending church every Sun- and alco consented to Jet her join the nday school. In consequence, a series of amusing predicaments ¢€ ed to the lady. ot the nouse. In the first place, the min- ister and his wife called on their young parishiener, and where could such visitors be recei but in the drawing room? Later the maid, who was really a most refined and well-educated person for her class, Was invited to the home of her Sunday school teacher, one of the summer resi- dents of the place, and there met in friendly relations and on fairly equal grounds her classmates, some of the young ladies of the town. Thereafter the lady of the house had to confront the following situation: ‘The young housemaid was called on by one after another of her Sunday school friends, and nowhere could she re- ceive them but in the parlor, as the sum- mer house contained only one large re- ceiving room. It happened on several oc- casions, while the znaid was talking to her | callers, tnat visitors were announced to her mistress; and in the same room with her servant the lady was obliged to meet and | entertain her friends. There was no other sclution to the problem, and let no one sa: in the hight of such occurrences, that ser. vants are downtrodden members of society or lack for social privileges. —_+e+—___ Written for The Evening Star. Song. © blest be the days that are gone, that are gone, With their lights and their shadows, their rest and endeavor! For nove of the days that shall dawn, that shall dawn, é Can bring back the sunshine that's vanished for- ever. As the waves of the sea, roiling in, rolling in, Have graven their names on the rock ledges checkered, So the days and the hours that have been, that have been, Have written your name on your so: record. 8 secret If the light of the days going by, Fall not in your heart, nor Muciine your bosom, ‘Think not that in future, with storms in the sky, You can fragrance extract from your life's fading Dlosseim. by. Then bask in the light of today, of today; Fill your soul with the beauty tbat Ged spreads before you, That the glories of summer still round you may play When the winters and tempcests of age shall break o'er you. SIGMA, ———— The Impossible. From Life, Jim—"Cynthia, if I chuck myseif from yonder ciift will yer berlieve I ieve yer, an’ then will yer marry me?” Cynthia—“Marry yer then? No. Jim, rm I couldn’t never be happy wid your rem- nants.” household | ‘DURING THE VACATION SEASO Doctor McCoy Gives the Uniform Rate of $3 a Month Till Cured. This Applies to All Patients and All Diseases. Only dariag the semmer could Doctor Possibly make the rate of $3 a month, Deafness apd all ment of his natic patients have so he bas often sei of limiting their charging a fee si service re The ™M sly considered the umber and ratsin ewhat In propor only Fens 2 which enable Doctor McCoy to give the 83 rate for the Sammer months are: First, beenuse it ts the wacat season, the se when so many of his regular patients are out of town; and Second, becanse one month’ ment in Summer, yo owny aids trent- when natare in the © departs m r mind what th tien treate from his ind how smal ot at dis nt AN are treated ro this reason, as readily understood, there is a Tmt to the n of patients whom Doctor MeCoy can treat at any given time. Father Cured of Catarrh, Son Cured of Deafness. Robert Ammann, 1001 F at. ne. (fr. Ammann for many years had change of the Gale Se a 1 krown in the North- enst): | the hearing of mys | deat; and tarrh of the Throat. The Son's Cane. “My son, Robert, jr, when nine had an attack of the M right ear ached and discharg ¢ began to lose his hearing and grew deaf rapidly. In a short while bis right ear became stone deaf; id not hear a sound wit He also com. 4 1 was totally wed me of very severe Ca- years of age, after recovering, hile At the same the he om it. Plained of constant ringing and roaring noises im his head. ra long time we realize what the trouble was with him, thinking that he was only inattentive, After being under treat a time the discharge stopped and th mg ean to improve, until now he hears plainly when spoken to in an ordinary tone. The noise have entirely sto The Father's Case. he tells us, T had long ling sensation in my th a desire to cough, I felt’ as though ng in my throat which should At times ah » or erust would fi hawking, would eatment has done me a won Hl throat has qe and Tam per The irritation in-my have king cd well in every way the | SHE WAS ALMOST TOTALLY DEAF. Mra. Margaret A. Seward, S14 L st. “I lad been deaf for five years could net hear the endinary noises on the streets. I wus troubled constantly with roaring noises in my bead, tat disturbed me so I could not sleep, disagreeable noises ceased, and I hear everything plainly and distinetly. CAN HEAR A PIN DROP. . Vogelsberger, 2018 Tth st. mower was so deaf when T went zo Doctors MeCoy and ywden that I could not hear people speaking ac table. Now I can with either Tean hear a pin drop.” th war Ais! NOISES LIKE BLOWING HORNS. Je <6 haa igit, Bd wt. mow. and horus in my bearing tick dis- n Potter, inuous noises in my ears, both day sounded like some one blowing The noises have entirely left is restored, and I can hear a wateb tinetly.”” hie DEAF FOR TWENTY YEARS. F. E. Sherwood, Howard House, cor. 6th and Pa ave. now.: “My left ear was so deaf that I could not lear a clock tick with it. My right coming quite deaf also My hearing denis. Now [ bear perfectly with vither ¢ HE WAS DEAF IN BOTH.EARS. John D. Kn 1 sen 1 was so deaf at times that I ve to ask people to write down w they wished to say to me. Now I can hear even a whisper HEARS AGAIN DISTINCTLY. John W. Berkeley, 636 G st. ne: “I could hear only the lo st sounds. I had con- tinwous rumbling, ring 2 whistling sounds in my head. The noises heve gone, and I hear cgain aistinetly.” HAD CATARRH THIRTY YEARS. William it. Miller, “T had catarrh for y $ 12th wt. we.: ymach troubled me, too, drank water it burt my tment bas cured me, I have git and feel por SHE IS CURED OF CATARRH. Mrs. B. J. Comer, 162 F bad been a great sufferer from tors McCoy and Cowden Lave cure eet DOCTOR McCOY’S BOOK FREE TO ALL. CONSULTATION FREE. McCoy System of Medicine, PERMANENT OFFICES DR. McCOY’S NATIONAL PRACTICE, Dr. J. Cresap McCoy, Consulting Physictans. 715 13th Street Northwest. Office Hours, Ute I2a.m,1teS pm. @ tos p-m.,dally, Sumday,10 a.m, te 4 p.m.