Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 5, 1898, Page 10

CHAPTER, I—(Continued.) Even Grace Santley, preoccupied and nervous as she was, turned her head to gaze with languid eyes at the curious and pretty sight. But her husband's interest was much more vividly and al- most childishly displayed. He grew quite excited as penny after penny was thrown in, each followed by an irides- cent flash, and leaned so far over the yessels side that the boy’s father, hap- to g'ance at him, called out, in ake caiv, Sir—you are almost over! Ah!” “The ejaculation was a ery of horror, which was quickly echoed. ‘The previ- ous warping had come a little Iste. The steamer, in riding the harbor-bar, gave a sudden lurch, and Herbert Sant- ley was jerked quickly forward. Be- fore he could make an effort to save himself he had vanished from sight. All had passed so quickly that the lookers-on could scarcely believe their red stupidly at each other in amazement. Then, with a piercing and heartrending scream, Grace Sant- le prung to her feet and would have leaped overboard. But her cry served to break the spell that lay upon those around her, and she was pinioned in strong arms, which held her fast, de spite her frantic struggles to escape. Meanwhile the vessel was stopped, the boats were lowered, and instant and active search was made for the unfortunate man, But the searchers had little hopes from the first, and the results justified their fears, for Mr. Santley’s body was not recovered. It voeded no words to tell Grace the extent of her loss. She gave onc pite- ous, bewildered glance around, uttered one moaning, heart-broken cry, and then her pretty blonde head fell back upon her captor’s shoulder, and she lay as if dead in his strong arms. He was a stolid Briton. a family man, accustomed to confine his thoughts to his home-circle, and keep his emotions well under control; but his voice was husky and his eyes grew dim as he looked at Grace's pale face. “Poor child—so terribly wicowed he said, compassionately. “Heaven help and comfort her, poor, lonely bride of a day!” tte Chapter IL. “But Grace will hardly many people!” Ruth Leger ing back her glossygchestnut curls, and nibbling her pencil refiectively. ‘You know that she dislikes going into any- thing like general society ye e for so ed, shak- “I know nothing of the kind,” Mrs. Leger replied, with more perity than her most intimate uaintances would give her credit f ying. “If she had indulged in any such feeling, I should consider her a selfis nd in ferent sister; but I do not think, Ruth, that you can call her that.” This last sentence w: ven with an air of virtuous and dignified reproof that brought an irreverent smile to the girl's rosy lips. Ruth possessed a keen sense of the ridiculous. “I do not think I can,” she admitted, demurely. “Grace is the best of sis- ters and daughters, and in return for all that she does for us, we should con- sider her a little. It is not very un- natural, after all, for a widow to shrink from dissipation and society—is it?’ 'The girl looked up with an innocent- ly-questioning air to meet her mother’s severe frown. “Nothing is unnatural or surprisiug in this irreverent and undutiful age— even the fact that a pert chit of a girl lectures her own mother on propriety and decorum.” Mrs. Leger’s voice trembled with the incignation that possessed her, her still fine eyes flashed; and for a little while she stitched on in an offended si- lence. while her daughter drew quaint- ly-prtty profiles all over the invitation paper on her desk, and carelessly won- dered whether the storm would blow over. Mother and daughter were the sole occupants of a long, low, luxuriously- drawing room, opened by three French windows on to a creeper-growh verandah and a sunny, velvet-smooth lawn. Mrs. Leger, seated in the depths of a comfortable arm chair, with an proidery frame before her and the mel- Jow sunlight falling upon her plump, pink face and plumper jewelled hands, looked, in her well fitting suit of = trous silk and rich lace cap, the pers ification of comfortable opulence and ease; while Ruth, in soft dove-color, lighted up with charming dashes of vivid carnation, presented a pretty picture of girlish grace and beauty. ‘Things had gone well with the Leger family of late, and in her inmost heart, Mrs. Leger was not disposed to grum- ble, even at the hard fate that had de- prived Grace of her husband on her wedding day. A richly endowed wid- owed daughter, driven to find refuge for herself and all her belongings in her mother’s home, was so much more desirable a belonging than even the most aifectionate of wives. “You see, sad as the shock was, it was mere’fully softened to us all,” Mrs. Leger would say, confidentially, to her dearest friends. “Dear Mr. Santley showed such trust and implicit confi- dence in my Grace that he left his for- tune, unconditionally,. to her; it seemed almost as though the poor fel- low knew the fate that was in store for him. It must be a great comfort to my darling child.” Whether the “it” in question referred | to the fortune of the confidence, Mrs. ; Leger left to the imagination of her hearers, who generally agreed in think- ing that, whatever it might be to Grace, the former was at least a con- » solation to her mother. From the moment when the young w dow—pale and wan, looking the mere shadow of her former self—had been rescued from the very gates of death to take her old place in her childhood’s home, her mother had wielded almost absolute authcrity over her and all that she possessed. It was so easy to rule the weak, spir- itless invalid, whose nerves had brok- en down under her severe trials, and who shrank even from the sound of friendly voices, the sight of pitying faces— nay, even even from the light of day. Her only prayer was that she might be Jeft in solitude te nurse ber morbid grief. Never was unloved husband more deeply and sincerely mourned. Per- haps the very consdiousress that where her vows were plighted her love had not been given, added a sting of re morseful passion to the girl's grief. Night and day, sleeping and waking, that scene cn beard the steamer was re-enacted before her aching eyes; and she was ever haunted by the reproach- ful tenderness of Herbert Santley’s last glance, and by the passionate pleading of his last words: “Promise me that you will neither hate me nor my memory.” But, brooding over the one great hor- rer that possessed her, she fell into a dull, heavy apathy and listlessness, from which Ruth failed, and Mrs. Leg- er did not exert herself, to arouse her. Indeed, it was so delightful for the power-loving mother to have the whole management cf a handsome income, and the ordering of a well appointed house, that she decidedly resented her youngest daughter's efforts to make Grace assume her proper position. “Surely, it is natural that I, a woman of mature experience, should take my place at the head of the establish- ment, rather than a delicate girl like ace!’ Mrs. Leger said, sharvly. cu are of a coarser nature, Ruth, and have no sympathy with the shy shrinking of a sacred sorrow. I think it far better that the darling child should leave everything to me.” “And fret herself into her grave, or out of her mind, for sheer lack of something to do! I do not agree with you, mother,” Ruth answered, bluntly. “I think Grace’s truest friend would be the person who convinced her that there were duties as well as sorrows in the world, and that she must be up and doing. If you would only make her chocse the house we are to live in, say what servants we shall keep, and wnat our income is to be, the very ef- fort to oblige you wpuld do her good.” But Mrs, Leger, who greatly prefer- red having the management of ev thing in her own hands, and who saw that, wless urged to do so, Grace would never interfere, received the pro- posal with anything but favor, and bade her presumptuous young daugh- ter practice her music, and not meddle with things that did not concern her, Ruth received the advice with a very niutinous look, amd even went the length of consulting Uncle John on the subject; but, after giving a shrug of his pondercus shoulders, that gentle- man declined to interfere. “It's no business of mine, child, as your mother would not hesitate to tell me,” he replied, with a little scowl; for ince she has found herself better off, Mrs, Leger had been decidedly less ef- fusive to her wealthy brother, and he was disposed to resent her change of front. “She is a willful woman,” he declared, “and will no doubt have her own Wa, She drove poor Grace into the marriage, and now, I suppose, she will drive her into her grave.” He left Ruth with this cold comfort, and the girl gave up in despair. Little by little, things drifted back into the old style. Weeks and months relied on, and except for the fact that ease and affluence had displaced gen- teel and pinching poverty,the household at Riverview was much like the house- hold at Moray Place, Bayswater, had been in the old days before Herbert Santley had come a-wooing, and the gtand marriage, which was to make them all comfortable, had been fol- lowed by so cruelly-swift a widow- hgod. Mrs. Leger was an absolute auto- crat, and Grace never dreamed of op- posing her. The young widow signed checks with admirable docility; but there her duties began and ended, and, before the first year of Grace's widow- hood was over, Mrs. Leger had almost forgotten that the pale, spiritless girl, who obeyed all directions so meekly, was, in truth, the owner of all they possessed, and the real head and mis- tress of the house. But Ruth never forgot it, and it was not for lack of remonstrance and re- see it, too. “Mother is acting badly, and you know it, Grace,” Ruth told her sister. “Why should she spend Herbert Sant- ley’s money? He was not in love with her; apd wanted you to be free and happy and rule your own life.” “And I do—I am quite content, my dear!” Grace answered, gently. “Yes—content to grow more like a shadow every hour, and cry your eyes ‘out while we spend your money! Grace, do you think the indulgence of such | objection. grief is right?” her eyes turned to the window with a look of perplexity and pain. “It is as least natural,” Grace ob- served, almost humbly, and in a low, treubled tone. ““No—it is not even that; the most acute grief for the person we love best jn the world consoles itself at last. And, dear Grace—forgive me if I wound you—you did not love poor Her- minder that Grace was not moved to | There was no answer. Grace's face was still averted; but Ruth saw a slight tremor run through her slender frame.She knew that her words had probed the depths of her sister's aching wound, and, thinking that there was healing power in them, continued: “Herbert would not wish you to live this nun’s life forever. I know—we all know—that there is no affectation in this perpetuation of grief, and that, to your tender conscience, the life you lead seems an atonement.” “That is it!” broke in Grace, eagerly. “Oh, Ruth, if you only knew how wick- ed, how horrible, I felt! At times, I was almost glad of my freedom! And then I remembered the price at which it was obtained. Oh, Ruth, do not feel astonished that I am worn, listless and wiserably unfit for the world’s work and pleasure—wonder, as I do, that I am not mad!” She clasped both arms around the young girl's neck, and, bowing her head, sobbed her heart out in a very passion of hysterical tears. And Ruth, in her wisdom, let her weep on, sooth- ing and petting her from time to time, but making no effort to check her pas- sionate grief. It was something to have caused Grace to confess her pain, and so face the phantom that haunted and pursued her. They would lose half their ter- jrors when viewed by the clear Ught of cool reflection. So, at least, thought Ruth Leger, and she had no cause to doubt the wisdom of her philosophy. From that day her sister made a strenuous effort to rouse herself from the miserable apathy into which she had fallen, and to take a new interest in life. It was hard work at first, for she had many a relapse into the old morbid state. But Ruth was always at hand to cheer her with bright, brave words and warm sympathy, and the old gloom returned no more. Grace even began to think, at times, that the darkest hours of her life were lived through, and that the light of a fair and peace ful day might even yet dawn and shine for her. Py and by the neighbors, who had from the first interested themselves warinly in the widowed bride’s roman- tic story, became familiar with the ap- pearance of its heroine. Little by liv tle, Grace Santley emerged from her long seclusion, and, with Ruth always beside her, made her appearance at church and by the river side. ‘The two girls, in their deep mourning dresses, became familiar and attractive figures in the quaint little riverside town, Many were the efforts made to draw them into the little functions and aruusements of the place—attempts that were no wholly unsuccessful, though they failed in their chief aim. Ruth had a keen appreciation oz pleasure, and Mrs. Leger, who loved excitement of every kind, accepted all invitations—“for her daughters ’s: —with a self-denial beautiful to wit- ness. Grace, however, even when the second year of her mourning had ex- pired, still shrank from mixing in soci- ety, and pleaded for at least a little fur- ther delay, which Ruth, well satisfied with the progress her sister had made, would willingly have granted, but that her mother interposed. your sister's sake, my darling Grace!” she told the young widow, su- avely, “Ruth will no doubt marry, you know, and, charming as she undoubt- edly is, she is penniless; so we must not te her spring-time; and I know that you will make a sacrifice for her.” So urged, Grace yielded, and prom- ised to join in the more modest pleas- ures of the place. With this conces- sion, Mrs. Leger was for the first time, content, little dreaming that at no dis- tant date she would regret having ever exerted it. CHAPTER IIIf, Mrs. Leger and her daughters had hitherto attempted to return the hospi- talities of their-neighbors by nothing more extensive than afternoon teas, for which she had become rather famous in the quiet little place. As Ruth had said, there was a tacit understanding that Grace should not be asked to “en- tertain.” But “circumstances alter cases” in most decided fashion; and an episode that had occurred led Mrs. Leger to de- termine on breaking. through this un- derstanding. It happened that at a recent lawn. tennis party she had made the ac- quaintance of a certain Mr. Tom Carl- ton, more familiarly known to his neighbors as “the Squire.” He was a good-looking and apparently good-na- tured young man, whose attentions to Ruth were obvious and pronounced, His evident admiration of the girl had excited the wildest hopes in the schem- ing mother’s mind. “Mrs. Carlton, of Carlton Hall; he is Master of the Hounds, and his mother, Lady Caroline,” she thought, as she turned and twisted that night upon her pillow in a very fever of anticipatory delight. “He hardly spoke to anyone else, and Mrs. Courtfield says he is not a bit given to flirting! Oh, we must do something to secure him! He must be made to see that we are not like these simple townsfolk, but people of his own class, to whom even Lady Caro- line could not object!” The gray dawn found her still plan- ning the means to compass this desira- ble result. Many and various were the devices that flitted through her busy mind; but she finally decided that a garden party would best display the resources of River View and her own social gifts, besides bringing the young people most comfortably together. Delighted with her idea. she pro- pounded it to Ruth the next morning, with the air of one who is giving a de- lightful surprise, but was most decid- edly taken aback by the girl’s prompt “Yes—it would be charming, mother! Ruth spoke warmly, and there was a | As you say, the grounds are looking ring of earnest feeling in the fresh | their loveliest now; but will Grace like ! voice. Her sister winced a little, and | the notion?” “Grace!” the mother repeated, in ut- ter astonishment; then, with a touch of indignation in her voice, she asked: “Why should Grace object?” Thus urged, Ruth gave her reasons pretty plainly, with the result of deep- iy offending her mother, but in no way changing her plans. It was gall and | wormwood to the proud woman to be reminded of the fact that she- was, in pert more than anybody else in the truth, but a dependent on the daughter world?” PON a { whose tastes and wishes ske so: gen- erally ignoved. She knew, however, I A GENIUS IN ADVERTISING. that Grace was as easy to manage 45 Wut He Surprised by the Odd Effect of Ruth: waS intractable; and there was a grain of comfort in that knowledge. “Tf it had been the other way,” Mrs, Leger thought, with an uplifting of her arched brows, “and Ruth had been free and independent, I should be a mere cipher in the house; fortunately, I can depend on my dear Grace.” Seeing her elder daughter, Mrs. Leg- er spoke to her on the subjet, surpris- ing the girl by a display of unwonted tenderness and consideration that brought a grateful glow to the pale, pretty face. “Do net disturb yourself, dearest,” the elder lady said, as Grace put down the book whose leaves she had been rather absently turning as her mother entered the room. “How cosy you look in your sanctum! I do not wonder that you like to steal away from us all, and indulge your daydreams in this delight- ful nook.” Grace looked around and shuddered a little as she recalled the day-dreams that had visited her there. She was always a reticent girl, and her mother was the last person in the world to draw her into emotional confidence. So she answered, with a little stile, that she feared her “nook” was rather luxurious, but that she liked solitude made comfortable. “Ah, that solitude!” Mrs. Leger cried, catching quickly at the word, and re- garding her daughter with a pensive, maternal look. “That brings me to what I have to say. I know how tun- selfish you are, my darling, and yet”— with a playfully-nervous laugh—“I'm half-afraid to ask a favor of you.” “A favor! Surely, you know I will do anything you wish “ven if I asked you to give a gar- den party? No—no” as the girl half- yose in her chair with a distressed look. “Perhaps, even for Ruth’s sake, that would be asking too much. Let us talk of something else. What is your book about, darling?” She stretched out her hand toward the yelum-bound volume, but Grace ex- claimed, quickly: “For Ruth’s sake? I hardly under- stand. Is it Ruth’s wish?” “Well—yes and no! You are aware of her love for innocent gaiety, but she has a deeper interest in this, and for that very reason, I am sure she will rather try to protest against what she really longs for. You see, Mr. Carl- ten would be our principal guest!” Smiles and nods made the last phase significant, otherwise Grace might have failed to find much meaning in her mother’s rambling sentences; but as it was, her attention was now roused. “Mr, Carlton—the great man of the neighborhood!” she exclaimed, with ev- ident interest. ‘Mother, what is he to cur little Ruth? “Her ardent admirer in the present; in the future, perhaps her—but we will have no castle-building,” Mrs. Leger said, with a sternly-virtuous air; “they may not meet again, for, of course, without entertaining in some mild fashicn, we cannot go to other people’s houses.” y, mother,” Grace broke in; “you are taking the fact that I am an obsta- cle to all enjoyment too much for granted! By all means, have your garden party!” “My dear Grace” Mrs. Leger’s face flushed with delight; she had caleu- lated on ultimate, but hardly en so speedy a victory. “But are you sure that the effort will not cost you too much? Shall we not be sacrificing No!” Grace raised her clear eyes calmly, and answered with quiet confi- dence.“I must meet people sometime, and why not now? It is only a cow- araly fear of pain that makes me still shrink from society.” “I wish Ruth heard you!” was the mother’s comment, uttered in all heart- iness and sincerity; and Grace, with a smile, promised that Ruth should hear. Mrs. Santley kept her word, and found it no difficult task to convince her young sister that giving the party was not only rightful and proper, but a highbly-desirable thing to do. Ruth was unselfishly willing to give up any pleasure rather than vex her sister; but when she found that Grace was apparently bent on pleasure, too, she thought that everything was propi- tious, indeed. (To Be Continued.) LAUNCHED WITH RED TAPE. Some Expensive Experiences in the Christening of British Warships. Ship launches in Great Britain are bound up with red tape. Two or three months beforehand the superintendent bas, to apply for authority te launch on a day to be named in the application. When a large ship is to be launched he is to be guided by musty instructions, over forty-one years oid, as to the erec- tion of booths for visitors the apprpria- tion of tickets and admission of thepub- lic. According to the dockyard regula- tions this expense in the case of any one ships is not to exceed $200. When her majesty launched the Cen- taur, which was to be renamed Duke of Connaught, but was finally sent into the water as the Royal Arthur, she al- so named the Royal Sovereign, which was floated out of dock. The Dill of construction for the accommodatoin of 3,000 persons came to $2,250. Other incidental expenses made the bill $9,- 500, as against the $200 allowance. When the Duchess of ork launched the Prince George at Portsmouth, in August, 1895, the Admiralty startled the treasury by requesting $3,900 for expenses. Treasuryites got their back up, and said that these functions had reached such a point of extravagance that they could go no further.—Phi- jadelphia Press. His Father’s Fall. They were talking about the military reccids of their families. “One of my uncles,” she said, “was severely wounded at the battle of Malvern hill.” “Indeed!” he replied. ‘My father fell at the first battle of Bull Rum.” After she had cast a withering look at him she retored: “What do you mean? Your father is ! still alive!” “] know he’s alive. He fell because he didn’t have time to see where be was going, and tripped over a root. [ know this is the truth, because I’ve heard him tell it a hundred times.”— Daily News. é Cleveland Leader. Pe sf His Capitalization. “When I was a youngrter, say of 21,” vemarked the veteran journalist of a western city, “I was the editor of 2 country paper in a town of about 5,000 people, and having lived for a year in New York, I had an idea that I was really the only person in town who knew anything. I had a pretty hard time making things come my way, but youth and enterprise are hard to down, and I kept at it. There was one firm in town, Smith Bros., which was the strongest and most conserva- tive there, and I knew an advertise- ment from them would be the making of me; but they were very slow in letting me have it. . However, I persist- ed, until at last I had it in my clutches, and I grasped it as a drowning man grasps at a life preserver. The senior partner, who was a most austere and particular old chap, and a deacon into the bargain, was anxious to impress me with the fact that they were doing a great dea] for me, and I must return value received. All of which I agreed todo; and then the old gentleman sur- prised me by telling me he would give me the copy and leave it ta, my new- fangled notions, as he called them,to make up the the ad. that would show the Smith Bros. to be as progressive as any other merchants in town and quite as ready to meet the modern ideas. Well, this was more than I could have asked for if they had beg- ged me to do so, and I went out of the place almost shouting. When I reach- ed my office I read the copy over again to find its strong points of display. It was as follows, for I can never for- get it: ‘Smith Bros., the well-known dealers in groceries, are pleased to ‘make the announcement that they are in receipt of the biggest stock of can- ned goods ever seen here, and they will 'be sold at prices hitherto unknown. Some advertisers may be liars, but Smith Bros. are happy in knowing that they have a reputation for veracity which is worth more to them than gold.’ That was good, plain stuff, with not much of a margin visible for the play of my versatile fancy, but I was expected to do something that would attract attention, for the old gentleman had been especially strong on that point. He was tired of the plainly severe, he said, and wanted something that would not fail to stir things up. I sat up more than half the night with that copy, and when morning came I had in all in shape to fill a column, the amount of space he wanted it to occupy. He told me, when he gave me the copy, that if he didn’t get around to see the proof, just to let it go and take the chances, which I did when he didn’t appear, and when the paper came out, there, in the biggest and blackest letters I could set up, was the advertisement for a full column on the first page: SMITH BROTHERS, the well-known dealers in groceries, ARE pleased to make THE announcement that they are in receipt of the BIGGEST stock of canned goods ever seen here, and at prices hitherto unknown. Some advertisers may be LIARS but Smith Brothers are happy IN knowing that they have a reputation in this TOWN for veracity which is worth more to them than gold. “Well, when the Smith Brothers saw that ad. fairly shouting to them and at them, and about them, they were only restrained by their religion from shooting me on the spot. How- ever, they sued me, in spite of all my defense of the attractive qualities of the display, and I would have gone to the wall for my genius and Napoleonic brilliancy had it not been for the fact that before the time of hearing the jsuit the ad. had actually given the ‘Smith Brothers a boom that almost frightened them by its tremendous popularity, and though they never re- peated the ad., and always made me submit matter before it was printed,we became great friends, and each of us did much for the other in financial and other ways.”—Washington Star. Japanese Notions for America. To the great variety of paper napkins which they produce the Japanese have added this year, with a view to popular demand in this country, one having printed upon it four handsome Amer- ican flags, one in each corner. And there have also been received from Japan fans of the ordinary folding kind whose sticks are colored red, white and blue, while upon each side of the fan, covering the entire surface of the paper, is printed an American flag. DEVIOUS DEFINITIONS. Phrenologists—The head men of the world. Panic—A crowd in which everybody is seared but you. Breakage—Something that is always the worse for ware. Go—The lack of which makes per- petual motion a failure. Moderation—Something that is al- ways rare in the extreme. Satisfactory—What the majority of things in this world are not. Sea—A large body of water contain- ing salt and Spanish warships. Life—The only lottery in which a man is compelled to take chances. Force—The pressure of bodies at rest. for an example, see the police force. Expansion—The trouble with a man who finds himself unable to get into his last winter's overcoat.—-Chicago From the War — Bring the germs of malaria, fevers and» other diseases, which may prove contagious in their own families. Hood’s Sarsaparilla is a special boon to soldiers, because it eradicates all disease germs, builds up the debilitated system and brings back health. Every returned soldier and every friend and relative of soldiers should take Hood’s Sarsaparilla America’s Greatest Medicine. $1; six for $5. Hood’s Pills cure sick headache. 2 cents. Discriminating. “Do you mean to assert that you never saw an honest horse race?" in- quired the sportsman. “Well,” auswered Mr. Corntossel, “I reckon the hoss was honest enough. But I allers will have my s'picions about the jockeys.”—Washington Star. The Best Overshoes Have a “Gold Seal” sticker attached. You can always tell them by the “Gold Seal” sticker. Insist on having them. They are made up of pure rubber by Goodyear Rubber Co., 98-100-102 East Seventh St. St. Paul. If dealers in your town don’t keep them, send to manufacturers. “Dees a man have to be very wide awake to be a bicycle policeman?” in- quired the person who asks inane ques- tions. “T should say so,” replied the mem- ber of the force. “Those people have to keep their eyes open all the time to ¥ avoid arresting one another for scorch- ing.’—Washington Star. Am delighted with Dr, Seth Arnold's Cough Kitier: ‘ery time: tev. J. 5.. Ce y - ville, lil. 250. a bottle. een ' It is believed by most of us that Sat- an has a warm spot for his followers. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup. Forchildren teething, softens the gums, reduces in- ~ flammation, allays pain, cures wind colic. '25c a bottle. <> Observe your enemies, for they first find out your faults.—Antisthenes. We will forfeit $1,000 if any of o1 b- lished testimonials are coven to ‘De not genuine. Tue Piso Co., Warren, Pa. 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