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THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1898-24 PAGES. by j voice. God in heaven! they are torturing hert™ » Earl of Douglas, the most : abet Raest Ot Deoates, Sh He tas taste Wook abd steak eee ul man in otiand, falls In love | meneiy with the Lady Sybilla, the niece of the | “Ho, without there!” he cried imperious- French ambassador, Marshal de Retz, who | ly as in his own castle of Thrieve. = to be crossing the Douglas estates. | But no one paid any attention to his ee heir meeting and | Shouts. and presently the woman's voice Rowing Seete is, | died down to a slow sobbing which was on by the Douglas friends. | quite audible in the room beneath where ch. occurs the ainers and hun- Sholto Mac- lady of 10.000. re knights an w uires. » of the Douglas armorer, distin- nself in archery and is made castle guard. He falls in * Lindesay, maid of honor earls sister. the third day of thi Douglas cousins nter the lists, as also th French ambas for, who foully casts his spear at Earl William and wounds him. In the combat Sholto shows such bravery that he is knighted. Lady Sybilla wins a promis from the young Douglas to tournament the go to Edinburgh, where is his enemies’ stronghold James, Earl of Avondale; Sir Alexander Livingston, guardian of the king's person; Str William Crichton, chancellor of the realm, and Marshal de Retz begin to plot against the Earl of Douglas, Lady Sybilla agrees to become their tool and to lure William into their power. In spite of warn- ings, Earl Douglas with a small following, including the faithful Sholto, visits Castle Crichton, where his enemies entertain him royally. The young earl falls deeper into Jove with Sybilla, and sh3, in turn, over- come by his sincerity and complete confi- dence in her, confesses her love for him and then urges him to return home with all speed. Marsha} de Ratz takes Sybilla to Edinburgh and William accepis the invi- tation of the young King of Scotland to visit the court in the hope of meeting h: lady love. The king and the two Douglas brothers become great friends, but zven the ki annot ward off the calamity ut to huge of treachery lon the Douglas. At a banquet boar's head is brought in, a sign and, in spite of the brave tempts Sholto to protect his mast the earl and his brother, charged with treason, are arrested and put in dungeons. CHAPTER XXXIV. Betrayed With a Kiss. ad his brother were incarcer- lower chamber of the high Dav which ro: astwe anquet ttleme the castle Nor’ I nt ng & the line which the hat no ¢ w this indeed was th: window of the ¢ t ‘ . accord t French fashion I pray that you permit my young knight MacKim, to accompany m3,” who conducted him,” said rmit- and his conce nevert after the ni earl was bare save for a prie- of the wall, at which th th a strange smile upon i he; “they had need e of traitors.” t to the window his head int boy, and li had just be ir his head n si ntly at the i ther with a 1am not afraid; and if, in- i will not disgr you. i thought on w w tom hme her , as if ¢ me not ‘sit dowr lowr out upon th r down a town lantern at the shor?lands the narrow n show-d amethyst and er out still the coast f opaline haze. aid William Douglas, hat they have dona nod lads. Had they b had surely heard ore tnds of their ar dow s nz at as ‘ the nearing afte with be give up them to leay: nt out to tal maids of the them thet <wn- said the earl. “It your lord’s commands to make your side. I warrant thes an excellent account of ht fell darker, and “1 over from the edz mostly passed dragged, as k and the Hill of ree young men w>re still silent: out when suddenly from the dark- th there came a low voic ft sald. “Stand back the words sounded curiously ar, and almost without thinking what he setzed the earl and his brother them away from the open Jattice, which opened into the ht. window,” came again the cautious ice from far’ below. Shelto heard the and spat of an arrow against th> thout. It must have fallen again, © voice came a third time—“Ware And on this occasion the archer was suc- stul, guided doubtless by the faint illumi- 4 the lantern the guard had hung pail in the wall, and whose flicker © the lattice against the dark- the wall. arrow entered with a soft hiss. It beyond them with a click, and its »int tinkled on the floor, the plaster of the epposit2 wall not holding it. Sholto scrambled about the floor on hands s till he found it. It was a com- 2 archer's arrew. A cord was fastened and a note stuck In the slit along h the feather. lt is my brother Laurence.” whispered ito. “I warrant he is beneath with a rope and a posse of stout fellows. We shall escape them yet.” ce But even as he raised the letter to read it by the faint blue flicker of the lantern, there came a cry of pain from within the cast It was a woman's voice that cried, and at the sound of pleading speech in some © ver abeve them, Willlam Douglas Started to his feet. The werds were clear enough, but in a language not understood by Sholto Mac- hey seemed intelligible enough, er, to the earl. I knew it,” he ered, imprisoned her also. It is Sybilla’s | 5.R.Crockett- AUTHOR OF “THe Races" me | the French language, ‘You shall not do it. | high | ; long as the Lady Sybilla is in their hands.” Doug! Tr MiNSTER THE GREG man") CoPrmceT 1696 oF c3coner® ; the three you “What did she s ently of his brother, who ing with his ear to the door. ‘The earl first made a gesture command- ing silence. and then hearing nothing more, he came slowly over to the window. “It ts the Lady Sybilla,” he said, in a voice which revealed his deep emotion. “She said in stened. sked David _pres- i stood listen- “WILLIAM DOUGLAS a he shall You skall not! He trusted me, a Sholto, knowing that there } A e to lose, had been drawing in | the cord, which presently thickened into a rope thick enough to support the weight of | a light and active youth such ny of the threes young men imprisoned tn David's tower. { But the sound of the woman's tears had | wn the earl into an excite t so great | t he hammered on the great bolt-stud- ded door with his bare clenched hands, and d aloud to the cellor nd Livin, n, them to open to him seemed wholly broken up. {5 Sholto, his whole soul bent uy the ¢ 1 which gave them a chan i of saving the life of their er, had | drawn thirty yards of stout rope into the room, He fixed it by a di knot first to a stout ring, which was let into the wall, flerward to the mass andle of r itself. “Now. my lord,” he whispered, as he fin- ished, pleased to go first. Our lads are beneath in the shaking of a cow's tail Shall be in the midst of them.” arl held up his hand, with th ive n tick, ption he used to commana si- The sound of the s voice came again from abov now quick and high, like one that makes an agonized petl- tion, and_now in tones lower, that seemed broken with sobs and lamentations. At first William Douglas did not appear to comprehend the meaning of Sholto's words, being so bent on his hstening. But when the young captain of the guard again renunded him that the time of their chances of relief was quickly passing, and that the soldiers of the chancellor might come at any moment to lead them to their | doom, the carl broke out upon him in sud- | den anger. For what crawling thing do you take me, Sholto MacKim?” he cried. “I will not ve this place till I know what they have with her. She trusted me, and shall L prove a recreant? I would have you know that Iam William, Earl of Douglas, and e of any Crichton that ever there, without!” And he or in ineffectual anger. His only answer was the sound of that beseeching woman's voice and the meas- ured tread of the sentry, whose partisan they could see flashing in the lamplight through the narrow barred wicket, as he turned in front of their door. And it was all in vain that with his master. ‘To every argument Lord Douxias replied, “I cannot go—it consorts not with mine honor to leave this castle 0 fear not the fa, athed. by H Sholto plead Snolto told him how that they could now escape, and in a week would raise the whole of the south, returning to the siege of the castle and the destruction of the sTooD not escape while the Lady Sybilla remains a prisoner within!” “God in heaven!” cried a stern voice from below which made Sholto start, “we shall be broken first and last upon that woman. Would to God I had slain her at the first. Tell the earl that if he will not come. to those that wait for him underneath the tower, I, Malise MacKim, will come and fetch him like a child in my arms, even as I did from under the pine trees at Loch Roan!” ‘And as he spoke the strain of the rope and its swaying over the window sill pro- claimed that the mighty form of the master armorer was even then on its way upward toward the dungeon of his chief. The earl went to the window and looked down. He could just discern Malise darkly beneath him, setting his feet into the rock crevices and pulling upon the rope. ~“Go back, I command you, Malise Mac- | KimY’ be said; “go back instantly! I have made up my mind. I will not escape from the castle of Edinburgh this night.”’ But Malise answered not a word, only pulled more desperately on the rope till the sound of his laboring breath and grasping palms could be heard from side to sid> of the chamber. ‘The earl leaned further out. “Mallse,” he said, calm and clear, “you see this knife. I would not have your blood on my hands. You have been a good and faithful servant to our house. But, | by the oath of a Douglas, !f you come one foot further, I will cut the rope and you shall be dashed in pieces beneath.” The master armorer stopped—not with fear of death upon him, but lest a stroke of his master's dirk should destroy their well-arranged mods of escape. “Oh, William, my lord, hear me!” he se'd in a gasping voice, still hanging perilously between earth and heaven. “If I ¢*have HIS HAND ON HIS indeed been a faithful servant, I bes2ech | you come with me, for the sake of the of Douglas and of your mother, a | y and alone down, Malise MacKim, aid the earl more gentl and I will speak with you at the rope’s foot.’ So very unwillingly Malise went back. “Now, aid the earl, “hearken—this | will I do and no other, I will abide here a ablde that which shall befall me, a: is the will of God. I am bound by a tie that I cannot break. What life is to an- other, honor and his word must be to a But I send your son Sholto to [ bid him ride fast to Galloway and / that are faithful there to me with speed here in Edinburgh. Do you go into Doug ale and tell my cousin Willlam of Avondale—and if he ate « I know well he will aven, ” William Douglas, if indeed r fleech nor drive, I pray y sake of the at house to send ya r David, that the Douglases of the | lack be not cut off root and branch. Re- | member, your mother is sore set on the | lad “1 will not go,"’ cried David, as he heard | this, the saints I will stand by I will go not so much as a step, and if ye stir me I will cry out for the guard.” By this time young David was leaning half out of the window and almost ery- ing his words down to the unseen Doug- beneath. 30, Sholto,” id s the earl, setting his and on his squire’s shoulder. uu alone n ride to Galloway without drawing rein, Go swiftly and bring back every true lad that can whang a bow or gar sword-iron whistle. The Douglas must drive the Doug- las’ weird. J would have made you a great man, Sir Sholto, but if you get an ter, he will surely do that not time to perform.” “Come, Sholto,” sald his father, is a horse at the outer port. Crichton’s men are warned. will have to fight for it.” ~ holto still hesitated, dience and grie holto MacKim,” said the earl, “if in- deed you owe me aught of love or ser go and do that thing which I have la upon you. Bear a courteous greeting from me to your swestheart Maud, and a kiss to our sweet maid Margaret. And now haste you and begone!” Sholto bent & moment on his “knee and kissed the hand of his young master, His voice was choked with sobs. The earl pat- ted him on the shoulder. “Dinna gr laddii he said in the kindly country speech which comes so meltingly to all G. loway folk in times of distress, gentle and simple alike; “dinna greet. fall in the breach, there sta: which I had “there I fear the As it is we divided between traitors, Crichton and Livingston. But even to this the, earl had his answer. “What—flee ilke a coward and leave this girl, who has trusted me, defenseless in their hands! You have heard her weeping. { tell you I cannot go—I will not go. Let David and you escape. My place is here, and neither sniveling richton nor that backstairs lapdog Livingston shall say that they took the Eari of Douglas and that he fled from them under cloud of night.” David Douglas had been standing by hopefully while Sholto tied the rope to the rings. At his brother’s words he sat down again. William of Douglas turned about upon him. “Go. David; I bid you. Escape, and if aught happen to me, fail not to make the traitors pay dearly for it!” But David Douglas sat still and answered not, Then Sholto, desperate of success with his master, approached David and with gentle force would have compelled him to the window. But at the first touch of his hand the boy thrust him away, striking him fiercely upon the shoulder. “Hands off!" he cried; “I also am a Doug- las. I will abide by my brother to the en “No, my David,” said the earl, turnin, for a moment from the door where he ha¢ been again listening, “you shall not st You are the hope of our house. My mother would fret to death if aught bappened to you. This is not a matter which concerns you. Go, I bid you. On me it lies, and if I must pay the reckoning, why, at least I only drank the wine!” “T witl not,” he said. “I will bide where my brother bides and his fate shall be mine." th frantic with ap- Then Sholto, well n prehension and disappointment, went to the window and leaned out, gripping the sili, “They will not leave the-castle,” he whis- pered as loud as he dared; “the earl will hind him.” “But never one ike you, my lord!” said alte y y lord!” said The earl raised him gently, led him to the window, and himself steadied the rope by which his squire was to descend. “Go,” he said; “honor keeps the Douglas here, and his brother bides with him—since not otherwise it may be. But the honor of obedience sends Sholto MacKim to the work that is given nim!” Then after the captain of his guard had gone out into the dark and disappeared down the rope, the earl only waited till the tension slackened before stooping and cut- ting the cord at the point of juncture with the iron ring. “And now, Davie, lad,” he said, setting BROTHER'S my | | brother's shoulder, though I be but a boy. | an arm about his brother's neck, “there are but you and me for it, and I think a bit prayer would not harm either of us.” So the two young lads about to die kneeled down together before the cross of Him who was betrayed with a kiss. CHAPTER XXXv. The Lion at Bay. The morning had broken broad and clear from the east when the door of the prison house was opened, and a seneschal ap- peared. He saluted the brothers, and in a shaking voice summoned them to come forth and be tried for the offenses of trea- son and rebellion against the king and his ministers. William of Douglas waved a hand to him, but answered nothing to the sum- mons. He wasted no words upon one who merely did as he was bidden. All night the brothers had sat looking out on the city humming sleeplessly beneath them till the ght slowly dawned over the Forth and away to the eastward Barwick Law stood! the honor to tell me clear. At first they had sat apart, but as the hours stold_ on Payid came a little nearer, and his “hand ‘sought that of his brother, clasped it, and abode as it had been contented. “The @der brother returned the pressure. “David.” he skid, “if perish we must, at least you and I:shalighow them how Dou- glases can dle.” ,. So when they yose tp follow the seneschal who summoned them, as they left the chamber of detention and the clanking guard fell in beteind tliem,Barl William put his hand affectiemately on his young broth- ers shoulder and kept it there. In this wise they came Into he great hall wherein the banquet of treachery had been served. The dais had béen removed to the upper end of the roomj and aipon it, in the furred robes of judges pf the realm, there sat on either side of the empty throne Crichton, the chancellor, and Sir Alexander Living- ston. Behind “Were "crowded groups ‘of knights, pages, imensat-arms and all the hangers-on of a-court. But of men of dig- nity and place only the Marshal de Retz, ambassador of the King of France, was present. He sat alone on a high seat ranged cross- wise upon the dais. The floor in the cen- ter of the hall was kept clear for the en- trance of the brothers of Douglas. Crichton and Livingston looked uneasily | at each other as the feet of the guard con- ducting the prisoners were heard in the corridor without, and with a quick, appre- hensive wave of his hand Crichton mo- tioned the armed men of his guards closer about him, and gaye their leader directions in a hushed voice behind his hand. The seneschal who had summoned them strode in first, and then after a sufficient interval entered the young lords of Doug- las, Willlam and David, his brother. The elder still kept his hand affectionately on SHOULDER.” the shoulder of the you His or. other was set as usual in the silken belt which he wore about his waist, and h carele with a high air and an like one that goes into a plea ment. the brothers perceiv they were an air of pride their fa d sifffened their into the sterner aspect of warriors who stand on the field of battle Some three paces before the steps of the $s on which sat the self-constituted judges as arranged a barrier of strong wooden posts tipped with iro: nd two soldi: with drawn swords were on guard at either end. The Douglases stood silent, haughtily awaiting the first words of accusation. And the face of young David was to the full as haaghty and contemptuous as that of William himse!t. It was the chancelor who spoke first, in his high, rasping creak. “William, Earl of Doug! vid, master of Douglas,” are summoned hither t ity to ‘answer for many crimes of treason against his royal person. Of rebellion and the arming of forces also against his au- thority; of high speeches and studied con- tempt of those who represent his sovereign majesty in this realm, of treasonable alli- ances with rebel lords, and, above all, of swearing allegiance to another monarch, even to the King of France. What have you to to these char: The rl of Douglas swept his eye: across the dais from side to side with a slow contempt, which made the chancellor writhe in bis chair. Then, after a long pause, he deigned to reply, but rather like a king who grants a favor than like one accused before judges in whose hands he un, “you the king's cuthor- sw mas. | 8 the power of life and death. “T see, id he, “two knights before me on a high seat, one the king’s tutor, the other his pursebearer. I have yet to learn who constituted them judges of any cause whatsoever, still less of aught that con- cerns Wiliam Douglas, Duke of Touraine, Earl of Douglas. hereditary lieutenant gov- ernor of the realm of Scotland.” And he kept his eyes upon them with a straight forth-looking glance palpably em- i ing to the traitors on the dais. rl Douglas,” said the chancellor again, “remember that you are not now in Castle Thrieve. Your 6,000 horsemen wait not in the courtyard out there. Learn to be more humbie and answer to the things whereof you are accused. Do you desire that wit- nesses should be brought? “Of what need are witnesses? court or jurisdiction. I have heard no ac- ations!” said the Earl William. The chancellor motioned with his hana, whereupon Master Robert Berry, a pro- curator of the city, advanced and read a long parchment, Whiclf’set forth in phrase and detail of legality twenty accusations against the earl, of trfason, rebellion and manifest oppression. When he had finfshed'the chancellor said: “And now, Hart Dofiglas, what answer have you to thest thitzs?” “Does it matter at all what I answer?” asked the earl, succinctly. “I do not bandy words with you,” said the chanceltor. “I order you to make your pleading, or stand within your danger.” “And yet,” said William Douglas, gravely, ‘words are all that you dare bandy with me. Even if I had honored you by laying aside my dignities- and) consented to break a lance with you, you would refuse to af- ford me trial by battle. which is the right of every peer accused. ’, “"'Tis a barbatous “custom,” said tho chancellor. “We will try your case upon its merit.” 3 ‘The earl laughed a little mocking laugh. “It will be somewhat safer,” said he. “But haste you and get the sham done with. I plead nothing. I do not even tell you that you lie. What doth one expect of a gutter dog but that it should void the garbage it has devoured? But I do ask you, Marshal de Retz, a8 a brave soldier and the representative of an honorable king, what you have done with the Lady Sybilla?” ‘The Marshal de Retz smiled—a smile so chill, cruel, hard, that the very soldiers a — seeing it longed to. slay him on @ spot. “May I ask my lord Earl of Douglas and Duke of Touraine in return what is that to him?” he said, with sneering emphasis upon the titles. “It matters to me,” replied Willlam Doug- las, boldly, “more than life, and almost as much as honor. The reay Sybilla did me she loved me. I owe no pets in turn am beund to her in life and death.” The chancellor and the tutor broke into laughter, but the marshat continued to smile his terrible smile of determinate evil. “Listen,” he said at last, “hear this, my lord of Touraine: Ever since we came to this kingdom, and, indeed, long before we left the realm of France, the Lady Sybilla intended nothing else than your deception and destruction. Poor dupe, do you not yet understand? She it was that cozened you with fair words. She it was that ad- vised you to come hither that we might hola you in our hands. For her sake you obeyed. She was the willing bait of the trap your foes set for you. What thinic you of the Lady Sybilia now?” William of Douglas did not answer in words, but as the marshal ceased speakinx he drew himself together like a lithe ani- mal that sways this way and that before springing. His right hand dropped softly from his brother's shoulder upon the hilt of his dagger. Then with one sudden hound he was over the barrier and upon the dais. Almost his blade was at the marshals throat. and but for the crossed partizans of two guards who stood on either side of De Retz he had died there and then by the dagger of Wil- liam Douglas. As St was the youth was brought to a stand with his breast pressed other came there and stood beside him. ‘The Marshal de Rets it was who with a fiendish smile upon his sleek parchment face conducted the Lady Sybilla to see the end. But it was a good end to see, and nobler far than most lives that are lived. The brothers embraced as they came to the block, kneeled down and said a short prayer like Christians of a good house. So great was their enemies’ haste that they were not even allowed a priest to shrive them, but they did what they could, The executioner motioned first to David. Ain attendant brought him the heading cup of wine, which it was the custom to offer to those about to die upon the scaffold. “Drink It not,” said Earl Willam, “lest they say it was dragged.” And David Douglas bowed, his head upon the block, being only in thé fifteenth year is age. ‘arewell, brother,” he said. “Be not long after me! It is a dark road to travel so young!” “Fear not, Davie, lad,” said William Douglas, tenderly. “I will overtake you ere you be through the first gate!” He turned a little aside, that he might not see his brother die, and even as he turned he saw the Lady Sybilla lean upon the balcony, paler than the dead. ‘Then, when it came his turn, they offered him also the heading cup, filled with the vainly against the steel points, and stood there, crying in fury: “Liar and toad! Come out from behind, that I may slay thee with my hand.” A score of men-at-arms approached from behind and forced him back to his place. “Bring in the Lady Sybilla,” said the marshal, still smiling, while ‘the judges sat silent and afraid at the anger of one man. And even while the earl stood panting. after his outburst of furious anger, they opened the door at the back of the da! and through it there entered the Lady Sy- billa. Instantly the eyes of William Doug- jas fixed themselves upon her, but she «id not raise hers nor look at him. She stood at the further side at the edge of the dais, her hands joined in front of her and her golden hair streamed down her back and fell in waves over her white dress. An angel of light coming through the open door of heaven could not have ap- peared more innocent and pure. ‘The Marsha) de Retz turned toward his niece, and with his eyes fixed upon hers and with the same pitiless chill in them, he said, in a low tone: ‘Look at me.” The girl raised her eyes slowly, and a8 it had been reluctantly, and in them, in- stead of the meck calm of an angel, there appeared the terror and dismay of a jost soul that listens to its doom. “Sybilla,” hissed rather than spoke De Retz, “is it true that ever since by the lakeside of Carlinwark you met the Earl of Douglas you have deceived him and sought his doom?" I care not to hear the answer,” sald the young man, “even did I believe that which you may compel her to sa} Unfaith in another is not unfaith in me. I am bound to her in love and honor—aye, even unto death, if that were her will! “I have, indeed, deceived him!” repiled the girl, slowly, the words seeming to be forced from her one by one. You hear, Wiltiam of Douglas!” said the marshal, turning upon the young man, who stood still and motionless, never tak- ing his eves off the slender mgure in white. The marshal continued his pitiless que tioning stle Thrieve you persuaded him follow you to Crichton and afterward to inburgh, knowing well that you brought him to his death. “it is truet” said the girl, with a v like one speaking out of the gray. You hear, William of Douglas marsha “And at castle Crichton you played play to the end. With false, cozenit words you deceived him. You led bim on with love on your lips, and hate in your heart. You ed him with the Judas ic You jed his soul captive to death by drawing of your eyes?’ Voice that Could hardly girl replied, her whole figi turned to stone by the inter mentor’s gaze: the n y be heard the fixed an ity of her tor- “I did these things! I am accursed The ambassador turned with a triumph ou hear, William of Dougl: “you hear What your true love say Then it was that, with the calm air and steady voice of a great gentleman, William Douglas answered, “I hear, but I do not believe A spasm of joy passed over the count nance of the Lady Sybilla. She half sprang toward her lover, as . to clasp him in her arms. But in the midst, between intent and act. restrained herself. No;-I am not worthy again, and like a lamen * she said. ation, And ‘Fam not while all watched eageriy, the mar- e from his seat to his full height rl, look ¢ he cried in a loud and ybilla did not seem to terrible voic hear him. She was looking were great and g! my t he earl, and her eyes ¥ and vague. true lord, and then hate me if you will,” she said; “listen, William of Douglas. Never before have I found in all the world one man true to the core. 1 did not belleve that such an one lived. Hear th nd then turn from me in loathing. pr the sake of this man’s life. fe ten times over” (she pointed as xhe spo at the marshal), “to whom, by the | of hell, my soul is bound, { came bidding of the king of Franc , My master, to comp Earl of Dougi Listen, the and of this ss the destruc- The King’s and promised to this il de i came to them beth. On my guilty head be It is true that I deceived and led you « is true that at castle Thrieve I de- you, knowing well vat which w son desired his duch: man pardon for his ¢ satisfy it. you. I knew to what you would fol- low me, and for the sake of the ey: wrought by your fathers 1 was glad. But fterward by the you 1 And, t Crichton, when in the wood waterside, { told you that I loved did not lie. I did love you then. by God's grace, I do love you now— before all men i declare it. Once for ‘on of forgetting, all too brief, I was yours to love, now Iam yours to hate and to despise, I tried to save you, but, though you had my warning, you would not go back nor forget me. Now it is too late!” AS she spoke over the face of William Douglas there had come a glow—the red blood flooding up and routing the white, determined pallor of his cheek. My lady,” be answered her gently, “be grieved for the thing that is past. "That rich wine of Touraine, his own fair prov- ince that he was never to see. He lifted the cup high in his right hand with a knightly and courtly gesture. Look- ing toward the balcony whereon stood the Lady Sybilla, he bowed to her. . “I drink to you, my lady and my love! he cried, in a voice loud and clear. Then, touching but the rim of the goblet with his Ips, he poured out the red wine upon the ground. ee ee . . . yl And thus died the gallantest gentleman and truest lover in whom God heart of grace to lve courteous! d greatly, keeping his faith In his lady even against herself, and holding death itself sweet because that In death she loved him. (To be continued.) ——— ART AND ARTISTS. ‘This evening the Connecticut avenue gal- lertes will be open for @ final view, which will close the third annual exhibition of the Water Color Club, and the artists ex- pect to turn out in force on this occasion. In spite of the vigorous efforts of those in charge, the show has not been a really suc- cessful one, either in attendance or in sales, and it is possible that the members of the club may have to make up a small deficit when the accounts are balanced. The artists complain with much justice that, with the exception of a very few con- nolsseurs who have loyally stood by them, their efforts to build up a flourishing art life here are regarded with general indit- ference. People are willing to go to see »x- hibitions if it doesn’t cost them a cent; but when it comes to putting their hands into their pockets, that quite another matter. The same persons, as one artist has pointed out, are only too glad to part with large for old pictures of doubtful authen- ful merit, and 1 painters are being forced to he on that the onl ul artist he only good Ind dead ar- rn people are apt to sneer at of interest which stern cities purely aesthetic things, and comparison of figures ought to give these scoffers food for thought. In the last published list the annual associste members of the ety of Washington Ar- tists numbered 163. In Chicago the Art In- stitute, while organized on different linos, fills much the same position in the com. munity, though its s work on a larger scale sue is broader and tis The last report is- i gave the number of citizens who | r support to that, ugh members: s paid annuall. It is true ihat Chicago is a very much larger city, and that the population of Washington is a constantly changing one, but the comp .iri- eless rather humiliating. * * Ox Another exibition will follow close on the heels of the one just closing at 1020 Connecticut avenue, and as no. great amount of time will be given to preparation i< will probably be ready to open before thc end of next week. No charge will be made for admission, as the artists wish to have a large attendance, and have reluctanu realized that the two don’t go togeth: Some of the pictures now on the be allowed to remain and the new display, and other pictu: added, the contributions being confined to members of the S. W. A. Probably a good many things that have been previous! ani shown will make their second appe: be no less ered but the display promises to itable on ¢ ‘count. * * Mr. Henry Bloyd has just finished quarter-length portrait of Miss Da ter, which is undoubtedly the best thing of this kind he has done since he came here, and it will do much toward his repiitation as a on a firmer footing. this direction ts here, he exhibitions only, and at one of these ¢ plays a large and extremely effective land- scape from his brush robbed his portr: work of its full share of attention. H latest production is executed with a great sal of reserve, and there is a studied sim- plicity in the way he has handled both fz and figure. The coloring also been kept in a quiet, harmonious key, and, while it may sound paradoxical. the painting is all the more striking for the effort to sim- plify the lines and to keep the color well under ¢ontrol. establishing work n in Well not so known v has contributed to a few ry bec * * * On Tuesday afteriioon there was a meet- ing of the Art Students’ League, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page presiding. In accord- ance with the suggestion of the president, the league voted to create an advisory board, to work with the board of control, and to take an active part in directing the you love me truly is enough. 1 ask for no more, least of all for pity. I have not lived long. I have not had time allotted me wherein to do great things, but at least for your sake 1 can die as well as any! You have given me of your love, and of the flow- er thereof. I am glad. That you Moved me was my crown of life. Now it remains but to a little price for a joy exceeding great.”” But the chancellor had had enough of this, He rose and, stretching forth his hand toward the barrier, he said: “William of Douglas, you" and your brother are con- demned ‘to instant death as enemies of the king and his ministers. Soldiers, do your duty. Lead them instantly forth to the And with these words he left the dais, followed by Sir Alexander Livingston. The girl stood in the place whence she had spoken her last words. Then as the men- at-arms went shamefacedly to take the earl by the arm she suddenly threw herself across the dais, leaped lightly over the bar- rier and fell into his arms. “William, once I would have betrayed you,” she said, “but now I love you. I will die with you—or, by the great God, I will live to avenge you.” “Hush, sweetheart,” said William Doug- las, touching her brow gently with his lips, and putting her into the arms of an officer of the court whom her uncle had sent to remove her. ‘Fear not for me! Death is swift and easy. I expected nothing else. That you love me is enough! ! Dear love, fare thee well!” ‘ But the girl heard him not. She had fainteg in the arms that held her, Yet the Marsial de Retz had still more for her to suffer. He stood beside her and dashed water upon her till she awoke, that she might see that which remained to be seen. . . . . * . . It was a scen® dreary beyond all power of words to tell it, when into the courtyard of the castle of Edinburgh they brought the two noble young men forth to die. The sun had long risen, but the first flush of broad morning sunshine still lingered upon the low platform on which stood the block and be- side it the headsman, sullenly waiting to do his appointed work. The young Lords of Douglas came out looking brave and handsome as bridegrooms on a day of betrot , William once more had his hand on David's shoulder, his other rested carelessly on his thigh as his cus- tom was. The brothers were bareheaded, and to the eyes of those who looked on they seemed to be conversing of light mat- ters of ilove and ladies’ favors. High above upon a balcony hung like an iron cage upon the castle wall appeared the chancellor and the tutor. The young king was with them, weeping and cin | out: “Do nothing to my 4ear cousins—} command you—I am the king!” But the tutor roughly bade him be still, telling him that the would never reign if these young men lived, and presently, an- affairs of the school. Mr. James M. John- ston, Dr, Burnett and Dr. Felix Adler were placed on this board, and other mem- bers will be added iater? The treasurer's report showed that the classes are in a ficurishing condition, and if it was not for the league debt and the summer rent, which mounts up when the receipts of the school are cut off, the league would not only be able to meet its current expenses with ease, but to enlarge its sphere of useful- ness, Two new members were elected: Mr. Arthur P. Spear and Miss Florenc: Behrend—and the other students are eagerly anticipating the “treats” that they are going to furnish in fulfillment of a time- honored art school custom. * * * Next Wednesday evening the Corcoran Art Gallery will be the scene of a very bril- liant affair—a reception given in honor of the Anglo-American joint high commission. ‘The reception is held under the auspices of the State Department, and this in itself is an assurance that the gathering will be a’ distinguished one, including, of course, the most prominent personages of the official service and the diplomatic corps, * x * The large piece of sculpture called “Jep- thah’s Daughter” which Miss Daisy King finished recently, is now being cast in plas- ter, but she has not yet decided to send it to any of the out-of-town exhibitions de- voted to or including sculpture. It is to be hoped that she will make some such dis. position of it, as it is certainly a work th: will win approval wherever it is sent. Miss King leaves Washington on the 30th of this month, and will go to Boston to study un- der Bela 1. Piatt, ** Miss Edith Ogden, who has been sharing Miss King’s studio for some time past, will “continue to occupy this spacious work- room. Miss Ogden is now working on an extremely interesting composition -called “The Women at the Tomb,” and the excel- lent grouping and well-studied effect of line in this is especially to be commended. No of the work is entirely finish but the gure of the angel in the Soom nwery impressive, suggested, as it is, with a hap- py blending of delicacy and simplicity. An- other good piece of work from the sculp- tor’s hand is @ profile head in a portrait which is full of life and expres- sion. e ss ‘Miss Mathilde Mueden has lately estab- lished herself in a comfortable studio in the building on the northwest corner of 17th street and Pennsylvania avenue. She has commenced work on likenesses of her two brothers, and in order to keep in practice for painting large portraite she has chosen to paint a life-sized, full-length figure of the elder. Of the preliminary #ketches that she has already made with a view to select ing the pose there are several almost equal- ly good, and it In safe to predict that what- ever attitude Is finally chosen will result in @ striking portralt * ** The most notable of the new pletures now at Fischer's is a large Constable, which shows to perfection the amount of study which he often 5 e to details and yet sub. ordinated them all to the general effect ery branch of the large treés mas: at the right of the composition ix elab orated w the most tous and those who like to see a sense of max tery will prefer the handlin, the upon which the artist has used his brus with greater freedom, There are two very skillfully pain portraits by 3 M which wt also attract favorable comment, and an Opie which ix charming in its color quality * Mr. Franz Schwarz g& very little of his time at present to the ordinary decora tion of china vases, but is devoting his attention largely to figure compositions executed on flat china panels. In the productions he is very successful in giv full rich color, and his rendering of texture and color of flesh is eapeci worthy of mention. A picturesque fig in Japanese costume is one of the t handled of these little pictures and makes a bright and attractive bit of color. * * * A meeting of the Water Color Club was held last Saturday afternoon, but no im portant business was transacted except the election of two new members, Miss Mathild: Muedea and Mr. Baldwin. * * * The Chicago Times-Heraki of Monday last contatned a paragraph, which will have interest for the readers of The Star. Mr. Matthews, it will be remembered, for- merly occupied a studio in the Corcoran building, and it Is understood that he will be here again this season, in order to paint @ portrait of the President, for which has received a commisston from tue lery, The Times-Herald says “A magnificent oil painting of former President Benjamin Harrison has just been placed on exhibition In the Union Leacur Club. The portrait is the work of William he al= T. Matthews, whose celebrated full-length portrait of Lincoln has been in the club for some time past. The portrait of General Harrison was painted last summer to be hung permanently in the Core Art Gallery in Washington. The artist has succeeded in making a striking reproduc tion of the ex-President, and it has beer pronounced one the best. liken him ever made portrait will be sent to Washington within a short time anc “to the trustees of the Corcora Nery. * * * Mention has been previously made iv this column of ational Arts Club. which is to have a central club he New York city, but which has been r cruiting its members from all parts of 1 country, The nose of the club ° promote the m al quaintance of ar lovers and workers in the United States and to bring the tists of different tions into closer touch. At a recent meet ing held in New York Mr. George B. Po: was elected presidynt, and vice preside were elected to represent the different parts of the country, Mr. E. Francis was chosen a list of th s follows: Jam Avery, Mr. Perr rge of New Yor imore, J. T. to represent Washingt« other vice presidents els W. Alexande:, Sam'l Belmont and John La Bernard N. Baker of Coolidge, jr. of Poston I. George C. Briggs Grand Rapids Mich.; Prof. Chas. na of Philadel phia; Sir William C. Van Horne of Mon- treal, Canada; William M. Ladd of Port- land, Ore.; George E. Leighton of St. Louis, R. Hall McCormick of Chicago, Prof. A lan Marquand of Princeton, N. J., and Irving M. Scott Francisco. I E. ¥ of San > SHMAN ON ENG AN ENGL! SHMEN. Actions Based on Principle W They Be Right or Wrong. Timely interest attaches to the f extract from a play by George Berna Shaw. the noted London dramatist a critic, entitled “The Man of Dest this play (vol. IT, “Plays, Pleasant and U pleasant, hed by Herbert S. Stone Company, Chicago) Napoleon Bonapar speaks thus to a woman spy, whom he h. identified a Snglish, and is taxing for + methods whereby her owing & she has sought to com promise him: “No Englishman is too low to have seru- ples; no Englishman is high enough to be free from their tyranny. But every £- lishman is born with a certain miraculous power that make When he wants a thi n master of the world. he never tells him- self that he wants it. He waits patiently until there comes into his mind, no one knows how, a burning conviction that ft ts bis moral and religious duty to conquer those who have got the thing he wants Then he becomes irresistible. Like ris- tocrat, he does what pleases him and grabs what he wants; like the shopkeeper, | pursues his purpose with the industry and steadfastness that come from strong relig ious conviction and deep sense of moral re- sponsibility. He is never at a loss for an effective moral attitude. As the great champion of freedom and national inc pendence, he conquers and annexes the world, and calls it colonization. he wants a new market for his adulte Manchester goods, he sends a missionary to w teach the natives the gospel of peace. ‘The natives kill the missionary; he flies to arms in defense of Christianity: fights for it; con- quers for it, and takes the market as a re- ward from heaven. In defense of his tsland shores, he puts a chaplain on board his ship; nails a flag with a cross on it to his topgallant mast, and sails to the ends of the earth, sinking, burning and destroying all who dispute the empire of the seas with him. He boasts that a slave is free the moment that his foot touches British soil; and he sells the children of his poor at six years of age to work under the lash in hts factories for sixteen hours a day. He makes two revolutions and then declares war on our one in the name of law and order. There is nothing so bad or so good that you will not find Englishmen doing it: but you will never find an Englishman in the wrong. He does everything on prin- ciple. He fights you on patriotic principles; he robs you on business principles; be en- slaves you on imperial principles; he bullies you on manly principles; he supports his king on loyal principles, and cuts off his king’s head on republican principles. His watchword is always duty: and he never forgets that the nation which lets its duty get on the opposite side to its interest is lost.” ——— If you want work read the want columns of The Star. —_—_—> —— Changelings; or, « Story Withous (Polite) Ws