Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 3, 1899, Page 6

iD CHAPTER X, (Continued.) “But as to the girl, my dear, your ideas are thoroughly romantic and astray. To be sure, there was, I be- lieve, some ceremony, but she knew as well as he that it was a farce, He had been most generous to her, taking her from a cottage, I have heard, and placing her in apartments fit for a queen. She was pretty, I believe, and nad some taste in dress, for her toil- ets were quite the envy of Paris. An: her diamcnds! Sad havoc they made, ©, in the Gervase exchequer. She sb. ald have been grateful, and I, for one, should like to see her burned at th» stake for marring the beauty, w! ich was almost godlike!’ “Mephisto is generally painted hand- some,” replied Madame Florence, with a light laugh, rising from the table as she spoke, and motioning the countess to precede her to the drawing room. ‘The gentlemen sprang to their feet, and the young lieutenant waved away the attendant, and himself held aside the portiere through which they must pess. As she passed him, she took from her breast a white rose and held it to- ward him. His fingers closed alike upon the flower and the hand that he! it, but she only smiled, gently withdrew her hand and passed on, leaving him but the faint, delicious perfume, wafted toward him, more in- tox.cating than Dy wine. CHAPTER XI, Carlo! What is wrong, dear? You flock so tired this morning, and your Has if so, manner is constrained and cold. anything troubled you? and, would you hesitate to tell me?” tful, anxious look was on the face—a face whose charm ther in its expression than any ture it might boast. ¢ and brown—eyes fitted to sh with laughter or melt into tenderness. It was the latter emotion that was converting them into liquid wells of love. The mouth, none too small, was frank and winning; the teeth even and white. She had spoken in French, but her it accent betrayed her an Ameri- and the man befoge her—the man 1om she addressed—the man whd her affianced lover, was no other n the young lieutenant who had de the sixth on the preceding even- gs at Madame Florence’s dinner. “Matt Beatrice?” he ex- claimed. but your fane ou expect a man to be nd talkative after a night's ation as if he had risen from un- ken slumbers on a bed of down.” The girl made no reply to this, but the wistful look deepened in her eyes, and she negatively shook her head. ant Dameroff suc- cecded in deceiving himself. He could not deceive her. The eyes of love are very penetrating, and with her whole soul Beatrice Leonard loved the handsome young Rus: nh, who first won her heart and then the pr ise of her hand. And as she loved, so she believed hes love returned. No doubt or jealou crossed her mind or prompted her question inctively she divined that somet! + wrong—high play, perhaps mbling debt—and if it We noyance caused by money. wiht as her wealth worth if s his benefit? when e was his. wife, all difficuulties would be cleared for she was an heiress in her ht. and that meant that all her would go to her brave young one of his majesty, the rd, as seon as he had The eyes were could not pour it forth for Well, these way. vas only wise enough to be fool- ish, then,” she said, with her quick, woman's tact, leaning over the back of his chair, and lightly running her fingers through his short, thick locks. “Now, tell me about your dinner. last night. I am so anxious to see this Madame Florence! Ah, Carlo, I must seem like some little brown wren after her brilliant beauty! I would like so much to meet her! Will you not intro- duce me some time?” A dark flush rose to the young man’s face, but Beatrice, from where she stood, only saw that he bent his head a trifle lower, and hesitated an in- stant before he answered her. “I don’t think I should eare to pre- sent you, Beatrice. Madame, Flor- ence’s position is not assured. There is no such name, I believe, in any cap- ital of Europe; and, at any rate, until her status is verified, I prefer you should not know her.” “But is she so marvelously beauti- ful, so wonderfully fascinating?” “More beautiful, more fascinating than any description could give justice to; but, nevertheless, little girl,” and he put up his hand and drew her around and down on to the arm of his chair, as he spoke, while he made a gesture as if literally throwing off a something which burdened him with a perceptible weight—nevertheless,I think my Beatrice may have no cause for jealousy.” “Jealousy? Oh, Carlo!” quickly spoke the girl. “Do you think anything so mean or pitiful as jealousy prompted my queries? Haye you not honored me beyond all honor in the world?” “And you could not, then, be jealous of me?” “With cause, yes, but not foolishly— not because you looked on another's face and found it beautiful. But I have such a strange feeling about this Madame Florence. The first time I heard her described and heard her name I felt that some day T shoulé know her—some time our paths would meet—that she was destined to work some influence on my life. I am a foolish child, Carlo, and can give no Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOVE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. better evidenée of my folly than in confessing it to you. But sometimes I think such presentiments are sent to us as warnings; and yet—” “And yet,” interrupted her lover, coveluding her sentence for her, “you allow the folly to run away with the common sense. But I must be going, dear; I have an engagement at three.” “But you return to dine with us, Carlo; and to-night you go with us to the opera? .Patti sings, and the em- peror is to be present.” “I will be prompt, chere—adieu,” and rising and bending his tall height to kiss her brow, the young man took his leave. The curtain had already risen when they entered their box at the opera that evening, and Patti's marvelous voice was ringing through the house. seat was filled, every box occu- ith the exception of the emper- who, with his suite, had not yet arrived—and the one directly opposite where they sat. Before the curtain rose again the royal party entered and took their places, amid the excitement incidental to the event. Again Beatrice’s atten. tion was attracted toward the stage. She dearly loved music; and once, as Patti’s veiee caught up a note and held it until she seemed to throw it to the angels, she turned to Carlo with a cuick, long sigh, as if to be sure that Fe, had heard with soul as well as Kase of hearing, But her sigh ended in” sharp note of alarm. His face had grown suddenly white, and his eyes, dark with feeiing, were fastened —not upon the stage—but upon the box opposite. She followed their glance with hers, and saw a picture which seemed to burn itself into her brait The bex, so long empty, was occu- pied by two people—a woman and a man. Around her on every side were women of birth, and rank, and breed- ing—women whose natural charms were enhanced by every accessory ot wealth; yet she who had just entered Ww a queen among them all. Beatrice drew her breath—dazzled, bewildered. Almost every lorgnette in the house was directed toward the box, and she who sat there appeared unconscious of it all. She bent her head with regal grace to catch some whisper of the prince, who were thy emperor's decorations upon his breast. She smiled her answer, and the smile was as a flash of lightning in a blue and starlit The exquisite neck and arms were bare, and on them glit- tered priceless gems. “It is she, Carlo—it is she?” excited ly questioned the girl, when the first almost shock had passed. “She Of whom are you speaking, e?” he answered, coldly, tryin Madame Florence, is it not?” she said. And her voice now was quiet and cold as his. he replied, “it is Florence.” At that moment the curtain fell. The beauty turned for some low murmur of the prince, who wished, the world said, to lay his coronet at her feet, and letting her gaze wander idly about the house, rested it on Carlo Dameroff’s white ve, While, with a slight, almost imperceptible motion ot her fan, she beckoned him to come to her. He sat still for an instant, while his paleness perceptibly deepened. She simply smiled, and turned, with new empressment of manner toward the prince, If the action were a ruse, it succeed- ed marvelously well. “Will you pardon me, Beatrice,” ex- plained the lieutenant, “if I leave you for a few minutes to speak to Mad- ame Florence? After partaking,la night, of her hospitality, it is her due. * Certainly,” replied Miss Leonard. But something in her accent caused him to turn quickly toward her. <Al- ready, with her glass to her eyes, she was observing some other portion of the house, so that the question he had meant to put died unspoken on his lips. But when he ertered Madame Flor- ence’s box, he found her surrounded by a little crowd. She gave him a light, careless nod, which made a quick flash of anger gleam in his eyes. He turned to leave, but she, detect- ing the motion, signed him to draw nearer, and the group of men, some- What loath, gave place to him. She held toward hit one small, gloved hand. It rested upon ‘his but an instant; but the slight, almost im- perceptible pressure thrilled his every The anger died. y did you deny yourself to me y?” he murmured. iy she answered. pected to see me, then?” “Had you not promised me?” “Who is that girl opposite?’ she asked, abruptly; and, as she spoke, her eyes and Beatrice’s met. “An American, is she not? And surely I have heard—or am I dreaming?—yout betrothed.” p “My betrothed? Yes, madame. But with you I grow forgetful alike of her and of my honor. Madame, banish me; it is my only salvation. In your presence but one woman can exist for me on earth!” “Foolish boy!’ But her words were a caress rather than a reproach. “And your honor is at stake? A man’s hon- or! Truly, a great and invincible shield, which blunts all arrows aimed against it. And so, I must sign your decree of banishment? So be it, then, I banish you—until to-morrow. At four I shall expect you—Carlo!” Madame “You ex- It was the first time she thus had |, breathed his name! her touch had done! All hal been spoken so low, so quick ly, that none of their conversation had been overheard, while, seemingly, there had been no semblance of se- crecy. , It thrilled him, as Yet, as he passed out of the box, his eyes and those of the prince met—met but for an instant, yet long enough for na deadly, implacable, wordless chal- lenge to pass between them, CHAPTER XI L'eutenant Dameroff had not haa time to rejoin his own party before Madame Florence, with the petulant willfullness of a woman accustomed to give her caprice no curb, rose to her feet, and, drawing from the back of her chair a costly wrap, said, languid- ly: “I am weary. Even Patti fails to charm me to-night. Let us go home.” Then, standing.a moment, with one hand resting lightly on the crimson velvet of the box, her eyes and those of Beatrice Leonard inet once again. “How beautiful she is!’ murmured the girl. “But why do I shiver be neath her gaze?” “She is pure and innocent and trust- ing, the woman thought; “yet I do but save her from herself—and him!’ Then her place was vacant, and so Lieutenant Dameroff discovered when, on resuming his seat beside his be- trothed, he took one hasty, almost sur- reptitions glance, followed by an in- voluntary, long-drawn sigh of relief. But Beatrice saw the glance and read the sigh, and interpreted both not very wrongl “Am I jeadous?” she said to herself that night, when her lover had left her. His good-night had been both warm and tender, but her own had been cold and constrained; yet he had seemed to note nothing amiss. A sweet, fair face, with wistful, ear- nest"eyes, and grave, unsmiling mouth, looked. back at her. Beyond it she let her faney paint the radiant beauty of another face, the matchless grace of another form; and for an instant she pressed her hands to her eyes to shut iteall out. Then they fell, and with a quick, im- perious gesture, worthy of Madame Florence herself, she threw back her head, as if she would thus reassert herself. “Jealous! No she murmured. “Why should not rlo admire one so ex- quisitely lovely? Yet, why do I 4 her? If she could make him happy. he could forget his love for me in love for her, I would give him up, though my heart broke. But why do I know she would make his happiness? Why am I sure she does not love him’? But what felly this all is! My Carlo care for another! My Carlo untrue to me, even in thought! How shall I atone to him for the momentary injustice that have done him? Forgive me, dar- i: * she murmured, involuntarily. And the old light dawned in the great brown eyes, and the red lips parted in a smile, and the reflection in the mirror smiled back, as though a face so young and fair need fear no ri- val Crossing the room, Beatrice rang for her maid, and the girl thought, as she obeyed the summons, she had never seen her young mistress so nearly beautiful, The roses at her belt (those her lover had brought her) were drooping and faded, but she chose one from among them and laid it carefully between the pages of a book. “When we are married,” she thought, “I will take’ courage to show this to Carlo, and tell him of the one hour I was jealous. If ever I am_ tempted again, I will look at this and grow wise as I am now,” and again she smiled. The next day, one of those accidents we name coincidences, permitted her carriage to pass by the palace’ where Madame Florence lived, at the very hour appointed for Lieutenant Damer- off’s visit. He was prompt, too, and though he saw her not, Beatrice watched him en- ter, and her head fell back a moment on the seft, luxurious cushions, and her cheek paled. ‘Only an instant. The next she had shamed herself from the deadly fear which had seemed to clutch her heart with its iey grip. Did not Carlo owe to his hostess of two nights before a visit of ceremony? What more natural and more fitting than that he should make it at this hour? ; So the fleet horses bore her on, and even while she was thus reproaching herself, Lieutenant Dameroff was ush- ered, by Madame Florence’s innumera- ble lackeys, into the presence of their mistress. She received him to-day in a room he had never entered before; a small room, octagonal in shape, its walls draped in hangings of violet velvet. Few women could have hazarded such an experiment; but never, he thought, had he beheld her so radiantly lovely, She was dressed in white—some soft, clinging material which fitted closely to the exquisite figure.The only spots of color were the extended tip of a tiny violet slipper, and a great bunch of fragrant blush roses at her waist. She held toward him her hand. He raised it to his lips, and she felt him shiver ere he gently released it. He took his seat so near her that now and then, as she talked, some portion of her dress touched him, and the faint, delicious perfume she always used stole over his senses. “Pardon me,” she said, softly, after her first greeting, “that I could not comply with your request for your de- cree of banishment last night. If you still wish it so, it may be done to-day. But do you wish it, Carlo?” Again the low, musical utterance of his name escaped her lips, and made him forgetful of all else save the hope it kindled, and which in each moment’s burning consumed his honor and de- stroyed his solemn pledge. “My banishment would be my death,” he answered, hotly, letting the wild passion, which until now he had re- fused to succumb to, sweep all before it. “In your presence aloge I live!” “Yet the young girl with you last night is your betrothed?” A shade of misery shadowed the young man’s face. “Yes,” he tnswered; “and therein lies my dishonor, My word is plighted. How can I recant from it? I dreamed that she might give me happiness; 1 fancied that it was love that she had kindled in my heart; but that was be- fore I knew what love might mean— before I had read it in your glance, or | tert it im your touch. She is noble and true. I will confess to her all, even my own unworthiness, and then, glad- ly, willingly, she will give me my re- lease. What else is left for me to do?” “But she is rich. Her money will: help you in attaining any rank.” “Thank God she is not poor! She will never need for suitors. Already, when I won her, there were many in the ranks; but she deserves to be leved for something beyond her for- tune. As heaven is my judge, had she beer penniless, I would still have laid my name and fertune at her feet. Even now, when with her and away from you, the old feeling steals back, and folds itself about her like a mantle of peac but it can do so nevermore! You have roused within me a whirl- wind, a tornado; you alone can calm and still it!” “My poor boy!, and you fancy this that you feel for me is love?” “Do not mock me, madam!” he criea. springing to his feet and standing be- fore her, his young frame proudly erect, his young face flushed with the fire and fever of his words. “I have long passed the years of my boyhood, and since I met you every day has been an added year in the knowledge it has taught me. How can I prove to you my love? When I am free, all that [ am, all that I hope to be, are yours, Ah, it ts so poor a gift for your accept- ance! But tell me you will not spurn it? “Your name is a noble one,” she an- swered. “Of me you know nothing. My past is a sealed book. With the seal unbroken, would you stamp it with your crest?” “Aye, and wish that it were a ducal ecoronet! What is your past to me, save that I know it to have beep yours, and, therefore, perfect, as all else is perfect which comes within the magic of your sway. If, for some reason, you wish to leave the seal untouched, so let it rest. When your name is merged in mine, let‘him question it who dare!” “Hush!” she said, softly, and for a few moments she bent her head upon her breast. What did she mean to do? say to this boy: “L banish you! Go back to the wo- nian who loves you, and whose heart I would brea in. alluring you. The dream you dream may never be real- ized. You serve me but as the idle fan- ey of a day, and the werking out of a dread revenge on all men for the sake cf one. This ‘s the madxess of an hour, and it will pass.” | Perhaps these were the thoughts which fought for utterance, but if so, no sound betrayed them. Across them, blurring d blotting them from speech, came a picture of the past—the past which she had buried in an un- |sedded grave, unhallowed by a single and above which uprose a ross of snowy whiten a ross bearing the name of “Dorothy.” | When she looked up, the old, brilliant, | mocking smile was on he¢ lips. | I cannct banish you,” was all she | said. | ‘The boy fell on his knees before her, and, lo! a tear mingled with the hot, burning kisses he pressed upon her hands. Yet, when at last he raised his head the smile was still upon her lips Lift it to CHAPTER, XIII. That night Beatrice looked and wait- ed for her lover in vain, but resolutely she erushed back every doubt. Her faith in him—the faith on which she | based her heart’s full surrender—wou'd admit no temporary shadow of dis- | trust. At noon the next day, while st: awaiting him, they brought her a lett --a letter, not a note, for there were four pages, closely written—pages over whose inscription the young office ud passed the long, sleepless hours of the night. His waste basket was quite fall when he at last decided this sheet must go. He had found it a harder matter than he had dreamed of, away from the maddening, intoxicating presence of Madame Florence, to put the cold rec- ord of his dishonor upon paper. Many, many times he had thrown down the pen and paced up and down the long length of his rooms, trying to shut out from his mental vision, not the beauty which had entranced him, not the brilliant, mocking smile which dazzled him, but the sweet, fair face of the girl who had promised one day to be his wife—whose smile was less bri!- liant but none the less true; whose eyes.awoke no madness, but through which you might gaze into her soul; whose past held no history, but was white as her own purity. Yet the pen he held to-night was the sword with which he must stab her. Something of all this found its way, at length, upon the sheet. af “If I cared for you less, Beatrice—if I respected you less—I might act the traitor better,” he said, in ending. ‘‘No woman can ever make her love the very haven of peace I have found yours. Perhaps, because my nature is a stormy one, I like storms better. I would not make you a good husband, dear, and it is better that you should learn the truth now than later. What is to be done? I leave the decision— my fate and yours—in your hands. If you feel that I have wronged you, I will answer to your father for that wrong. If you still wish me to fulfill my pledge, I will do so, and be to you all that I can be. But I dare no longer offer you an undivided heart, or an un- shared loyalty.” (To be Continued.) ‘Paddy as Horatious. When a sub-inspector was hearing a class of London Irish boys repeat Ma- cauley’s “Horatius,” he inquired wheth- er three soldiers would be likely to hold a bridge nowadays against a whole army. “Would three Englishment, for ex ample?” he said. “No, sir,” replied the class. “Would three Scotchmen?” They again dissented. “Would three Irishmen?” “Please, sir,” shouted an excitable littie fellow, “one Irishman would de it!”—CSornhill Magazine. Philosophy of Diet. Wife—This article says a good many sfnen are killed by eating. Husband—A great many more would be killed if they didn’t eat.—Detroit Frae Press. i About Potatoes. , There is probably no crop largely grown that yields a better profit than the potato crop. Yet the per acre yield throughout the country {s small, due very largely to poor methods in han- dling the soil. The potato accommo- dates itself to many varieties of soil and to all kinds of culture. Perhaps this fact is taken advantage of to too great cn extent, and not enough care used in any part of the process of pro- ducing the crop. When we consider that more than 1,000 bushels of pota- toes have been raised on an acre in dif- ferent parts of the country, and that less than 100 bushels is the ordinary yield, we are forced to believe that we are not using all.of our possible ad- vantages, The first requisite 1s well-prepared land, drained if it so requires. This good preparation means plowing deep enough to admit of the fullest growth of root. Whatever may be said against deep plowing yet it certainly has a tendency to send the roots down be- yond the summer drouth, which is often a thing of great importance. The writer remembers a little corner in a potato patch in which coal ashes had been thrown. The ground thus in- creased in depth gave moisture to the plants when ia all other parts of the patch they were dying for lack of moisture, The probable reason was that in that part the soil was so porous that the roots had been able to strike deep and to reach into a stratum of continuous moisture. This is not to advocate the use of coal ashes’ as a fer- tilizer for potatoes, but to illustrate the principle by which a loose soil permits the penetration of roots. As to.hilling there is great diversity of opinion. We know that it is be- coming quite popular to advocate the doing away of the old style of hill- ing, and to say that the idea of hill- ing was a barbarous one, originating among the bogs of Ireland. The whole settlement of the question must de- pend on circumstances. Some varieties have to be hilled anyway, unless we expect to have some of the potatoes on top of the ground; The question of moisture runs into that of hilling. A certain man some years ago abandoned the hilling process and planted all of his potatoes on the level. It happened to be an exceptionally wet summer and the entire crop was damaged by lying too much in the water. Hilling would have done some good in this case, Inspection of Ilinois Orchards. The state legislature passed during its recent session a law requiring the state entomologist to inspect all Illi- ‘nois nurseries once each year, and in all cases where these are found free from dangerous insects and fungous disease to issue certificates to tkis ef- fect upon payment by nurserymen of the actual expenses of inspection. The sale or shipment of nursery stock with- ‘out such certificate of inspection will ibe illegal after July 1. By the same Jaw, the entomologist is required to dis- infect, at the expense of appropriations made for the purpose, all Illinois or- chards now infested by the San Jose scale. The office of the state entomol- ogist, which has been by common con- sent of the parties concerned located at the University of Illinois since 1884, ‘is now permanently established there by law. San Jose Scale Abroad.—Dr. Frank, one of the most noted scientists of Germany, recently presented a paper on the San Jose scale before the Ber- lin Horticultural Society. In view of the attitude taken by Germany and France toward American fruit impor- tations and the scale, his conclusions are of interest, says Country Gentle- man. He says there are two species of scale in Germany which have been thought possibly identical with the San Jose insect, but that his investi- gations prove their distinctness. He quotes American entomologists as say- tmg that the San Jose scale produces three broods yearly, each old female breeding about 600 young. Dr. Frank, however, has satisfied himself that only one generation of about 30 is pro- duced. He thinks it questionabie whether the San Jose scale can live in Europe at all. We respectfully sug- gest that the Germans and Frenchmen send a discreet man apiece to America to see the San Jose scale, and learn something about it. e Clover and Timothy Hay.—Clover unless cut before it reaches the blos- soming stage will have when dried from seven. to ten per cent of al- buminoids, which makes it a very nutritious ration. Timothy, when in its best estate, which is a little before it has blossomed, has only about four to five per cent of albuminoids. If it stands until dead ripe most of these are changed to woody fibre, which is very hard to digest. The second growth of clover is much richer than the first. It is hard to cure it without discoloring from excessive fermenta- tion. If secured in good order it should be saved for young stock and for poultry, to be fed to each in small amounts with other feed.—Ex, Science of Cheesemaking.—There are many branches of science that are in- tricate and very difficult to acquire and understood, and if there is one more difficult than another the manu- facture of cheese seems to be that one. When we consider the hidden power of rennet action, the active effect of fermentation and bacterial influences, the varied unknown conditions of milk as received at cheese factories and the intricate combinations that any or all of these form to effect the final re- sult, we see the many difficulties the theesemaker must overcome.—D, M. McPherson. Cleanliness in the poultry yard and nouses is the key to success; the lack of it invites all kinds of diseases. Keep the cow clean and comfortable. Whitewash the stable twice a vear. Something Wrongs. The Dog—You'’ve got to have a pull to get along nowadays. ‘The Horse—Nonsense! I've had one all my life, and it hasn’t done me any good.—Kansas City Independent. Sixty Miles an Hour. ¥ A steam moter car, for use on the railroads, recently made a trial trip, going at the rate of sixty miles an hour. This will probably be as much of a record-beater as Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters. It cures indigestion, constipa- tion, nervousness, liver and kidney trouble. Only Practicing. Mistress—What are you doing,Rieke? Throwing the dishes at that target? Are you crazy? Maid—“Crazy? No, I'm going to get married.—Das Kleine Witzblatt. “In Union There is Strength.” True strength consists in the union, the harmonious working together, of every part of the humanorganism. This strength can never be obtained if the blood is im- pure. Hood’s Sarsaparilla is the standard prescription for purifying the blood., Never Disappoints One Sort. “You sold this dog to me for a bird dog. He doesn’t know a bird when he sees one. I took him out yesterday, and he wouldn’t look at a bird.” ~ “Well, how was the bird cooked ?”"— Brooklyn Life. Are You Using Allen’s Foét-Ease? It is the only cure for Swollen, narting, Burning, Sweating Feet, Corns and Bunions. Ask for Allen’s Foot-Ease, a powder to be shaken into the shoes. At all Druggists and Shoe Stores, Sample sent FREE Ad- dress, Allen S. 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