Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 10, 1899, Page 6

) CHAPTER XIII. (Continued.) For a full hour Beatrice Leonard sat motionless, holding tightly in her hand the written record of a man’s dishonor; then, as if fearful that her eye might rest again upon a single one of his words which had changed day into darkness, she tore the sheet into shreds —and, rising and lighting a candle, held the fragments to the flame and let theni slowly burn, The ashes fell upon the floor. n that. moment Lieutenant Damet- oft's love might have rekindled had he ‘seen her, with her face and lips color- less, but with eyes undimmed by a sugle tear, set her small foot upon that li.tle brown, fluttering heap and crush it into the earpet’s thick pile. Then, seating herself at her desk, with hand that never trembled aud pen that hesitated no singte instart jn form- ing the written characters upon the pages, she wrote him only these lines: “We both are free. You must an- swer neither to my father nor myself, but to your honor and your God. I shall tell my father that I found you unworthy of my love, and that our en- gagementis ruptured. I may add, and truly, that I have ceased to love you. He will inquire no further. “BEATRICE LEONARD.” “I do not love him,” she said to her father, when explaining to him the sud- den rupture of their engagement. “I do not love him,” she repeated over and over to herself, as the slow days merged into weeks; but her heart re- fused to echo the words formed by her cold, pale lips. Sitting alone one evening by the li- brary fire, the room otherwise unlight- ed, the door softly opened, and a voice, strange yet familiar, her name. She glanced up, rtled, but enly to utter a ery of v ne, as, in the dim light, she recognized andold, familiar friend. “EF ‘yy!’ she exclaimed, extendin, tows him two eager hands—“Harry wright! How glad I am! But n and how came you to St. Peters- e old, old story, Beatrice!” he au- Imost sadly. “A woman drew me here.” \ “And her name, Harry? Tell me her me?” The answer trembled on his lips. An- other moment and she would have learned the truth; but at that instant the door opened and Mr, Leonard ad- vanced into the room. swered, CHAPTER XIV, ihe night was still young as Harry Arkwright went down from Mr, Leon- ard’s apartments into the street. Only that morning he had arrived at St. Re- 4orsburg. Florence's Instinetive- ame Florence ame of Madame nd reached Pa K fined who Mz might be. For months he had striven to find her. Since she had left her house on the morning of the tragedy—the know- lec of which had fallen upon him ning force—he could gain no had had feared she though the thought av Sometimes he taken her own life, mm of such ible anguish. had no need to as the shot which had fatal to Louis Ge 1 to his beauty; but he f sorrow had maddened her, His loyal love had never wavered. He still longed to give her its shelter and the protection of his nam But what was her life here? And how had she come by the wealth which rumor said she so lavishly squandered? ‘xcept that she was recklessly throw- ing away the patrimony left her by. her father, he knew of no other means. It could not be that she would still touch the Gervase gold! He longed to see her;.yet-all these hours had passed and he had made no effort to seek her. Suppose he again should be wrong? Suppose that Madame Florence, of whom the world talked, should not be the Florence woman he sought? Bet- ter far the suspense, the, momentary hope, than again the maddening reality of disappointment! Yet ten o’clock found him standing outside her palace gates. “Madame Florence is out,” the pow- dered lackey said. She would be ab sent, probably, until midnight.” “I will wait for her,” he answered. The lackey looked doubtful; but there was an imperious something in Ark- wright’s manner which silenced the doubting words he was about to speak. “Show me to the drawing room, and tell your mistress an old friend desires to speak with her. No! don’t light the candles. The few burning will do;” aiél then the man withdrew and left him. He looked about the room, It was not the formal room of ceremony, but father an ante-room leading into it. Great logs blazed in an open fireplace in true English style, and rugs of fur ‘were scattered about upon the highly- polished and inlaid floor. A few works of art were suspended from the exquis itely-painted ceiling. The light was too dim to fitly study them, but Arkwright strayed from one to another, hoping to find some sign to satisfy him as to the identity of Mad- ame Florence with Florence Vane. Suddenly he started, and an involun- tary exclamation burst. from his lips; yet the picture which elicited it was neither portrait of face or landscape. It represented, against a dark back- ground, a white, gleaming cross, with a broken lily at its base, beneath which was written but one word, “Dorothy!” And on the table underneath was set a vase filled with roses. had fired proved > wholly t that her Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOVE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. This was all; but he knew now that when the mistress of that room entered it, his eyes would be gladdened by the sight of Florence Vane. But how had she learned of her sis- ter’s death It had appeared in no En- glish paper. He only knew of it through the heartbroken letter-of the bereaved husband, The room had lost all further inter- est. He threw himself in a great arm- chair, half in the shadow, and sat wait ing. He felt no impatience. He had found her. Sooner or later she must come. Somewhere near a clock musically chimed the passage of time. He heard, but took no heed of its record. And then along the hall he heard the rustle of a woman's dress, and once more the notes of a voice, which of late had spoken only in his dreams, now sounded in his waking ear—a voice low and sweet as of old, though its words were not addressed to him. Florence Vane was not alone. Some one had entered with her. Evidently she had not been apprised of his pres- ence. The lackey had forgotten, or sleepily failed in his duty, for, just in- side the door, the two paused. “No further, prince,” he heard her say. “It is late, and Iam very weary.” “But I must speak with you,” an- swered the man’s voice. “I must have from your own lips the assurance that this boy’s insolence is unwarranted, that I may give it the fitting punish- ment that it deserves. He entered your your box to-night as though I, not he, were the intruder. I, a prince, and he, a stripling! Almost I forgot my prom- se to be calm for your dear sake.” A light laugh followed this speech—a mirthless laugh—which jarred on Har- ry Arkwright’s listening ear, and then she said: “He is but a child, mon prince, and all children cry for the moon. Have ience with him, and do not blame him that he loves me.” “But you, ma chere—you give him no encouragement? Promise mes that? | Will you not accept the coronet I offer | you, and thus give me the open right, fittingly to rebuke such audacity?” “Patience, mon prince!” again was her reply. “You must give me time to accustom myself to thoughts of honor greater than [ merit.” “No honor can equal your merit. But you are not, then, indifferent?” “Mon ami!” Only these two words were her re- ply; but, spoken as she spoke them, tehy held a volume of eloquence, Arkwright’s blood chilled in his veins, though he could not see that the prince, in his gratitude, had snatched her gloved hands to his lips and left there r ardent impress. “And this boy?” he said. ave me to deal with him,” she an- sw 1. “Good-night!” “Good-night!"” An instant later, alone annd unat- tended, she entered the room. She t no single glance toward the corner .where Arkwright had risen from his chair and stood awaiting her; but, crossing the floor, stopped before the picture of the cross, and a long, | low sigh trembled on the air. The room seemed filled with the at mosphere of her beauty. His eyes dwelt on her exquisite grace as she stood there. The wrap had fallen from her bare shoulde nd their whiteness gleame: the whiter against the blue velvet of ber gown. For a few moments no sound broke the stillness, save that he fancied that he heard the beating of her heart and is own. “I'lorence!” he said, at last. It was but a whisper, but she turned as if a thunderbolt had fallen to rouse her from her calm—turned and saw him standing with the lovelight on his eyes and in his face. One little, glad cry escaped her, al- though she grew very pale. “Captain Arkwright! How did you find me out?” “Only Captain Arkwright, Florence?” he replied. “Have I no other wel- come?” She had recovered her composure now, and, with the old, easy grace and courtesy, she held out to him one small gloved hand. “Am I not very glad to meet my friend? Must I tell you how glad in spoken words? Aye, glad, even though he comes to me out of the shadow of a past whose grave I have left unmarked by any stone. But,’ a sudden fear marking her manner as she spoke, “re- member in that grave lie two women— Florence Vane and Florence—’ she paused, then enunciated the name with clenched teeth and in a tone which told a history—“Gervase. Do not attempt to resurrect either. Here in St. Peters- burg I am’ Madame Florence.” “Unless you change the title to the Princess Canorach?” “Ah, you heard the prince! .I forgot that necessarily you must have been foreed into the role of eavesdropper.” Then, letting her tone grow earnest, she went on: “No, Harry. His dream was vain; but I let him dream on. It pleases me to gain the triumph; it pleases me to see him suffer as I yet shall make him suffer. For me is neither love or mar- riage. I owe the world a debt and I must pay it. That is all—’ “Hush, dear!” he said, very gently; but he saw that not then might he plead to change her purpose. “I am going to leave you now; it is late, and I heard you say that you were weary. But to-thorrow I may come, Florence?” “Yes, to-morrow,” she replied. “Dine with me, if you will. We shall not be alone, and J shall be Madame Florence. I may trust you not to forget that?’ “You may trust me in all things,” he replied, “And I will introduce you to the prince, and perhaps—the prince's ri- val!” she added, with again that little, light. mirthless laugh, “I wish them them to meet to-morrow night. It will add to my amusement.” So he left her—gay, brilliant, mock- ; ing, smiling her good-night and her au revoir. : Would she so smile to-morrow night, when, the. grim reaper would threaten with his sickle two human lives, and, pointing to her with his bony finger, “So she decreed; with her must rest the answer at the judgment bar o! God!” : CHAPTER XV. In a semi-darkened room, whose Iux- urious fittings might have pre-supposed it a lady’s boudoir, but for the strow- ing here and there of articles unmis- takably masculine, and the cloud of fragrant smoke which hung about it— sat a man whose face was turned to where the shadow lay the deepest. He had taken the cigar from his lips, and the hand which held it—and which. rested on the arm of his chair—was white and soft as any woman’s. On a finger gleamed a large and almost priceless sapphire, graven with a crest. It was a hand whose touch you would instinctively feel might be re- plete with infinite tenderness, but nev- er that its strength be merciless. The half-reclining figure was full of manhood’s grace. Instinctively you looked toward the face, to see that it fulfilled the figure’s promise, and then you understood why it was kept turned to the shadow. You shuddered as you looked. lt was Louis Gervase who thus sat alone, and shunned the light of day. When life—not death—had been the is- sue of the terrible deed whose impress he must wear until washed in the wa- ters of eternity, and they had come to him and said: “Tell us who did this tiing? Give us the clue, that we may | deliver her to justice and the law,” he had answered: “I can tell you noth- ing,” and they had deemed that gener- osity had prompted his reply. As well look for generosity in the savage tiger crouching for the spring and greedy for its prey. “Justice and the law!” ‘he hissed, be- tween his set teeth, gazing with un- flinching eyes into his mirror’s dread reflection. “It is I who will mete out the law: it is I who will represent justice. Hide yourself in .what quar- ter of the globe you will, my lady, you and I shall meet again. With all his faults, Louis Gervase never yet failed to pay a debt he rightfully owed, and that to you will bear its interest But months had gone by, a y had sped, and his threat was unfulfilled. A light rap sounded on the door. The next moment a valet, With noiseless tread, entered the apartment. His master turned his head, and, as he did so, one saw that the disfigure- ment was on one side only of his face. The other represented him as he was— as he had been—a man whose beauty had been his bane. Quickly taking from the table a black bandage, he adjusted it so that the dis- figurement was wholly hid, and a | he still might whisper his sweet noth- ings in a woman's ear; and she, not knowing what was concealed beneath that pitying mask, mightyhave yielded to the old, nameless charm, which would go with him to his grave. But for one long year this man had seen no woman. Since the countess had penned him her farewell, he had made no effort to woo or win. He had lived on his past and brooded over his | future. -“Well, Jean?” he said to the servant. “M. Rudolph is below, sir, and would like to see you.” “Admit him at once,” he commanded; | then wheeled round in his ¢! , and raited, as one has seen a cat, with paw extended, wait and watch at the mouth of a hole from which she mo- | mentarily expects the hapless mouse to emerge. His waiting was not long; but the man who opened the door at last, with an almost stealthy movement, reseim- bled far more a brother-cat than the; poor victim. Small mercy might the mouse look for with two such wary watchers, whose patience would be as untiring as their vengeance would be merciless, “You bring me news, Rudolph?’ ex- claimed Gervase, before the stranger had had time wholly to close the door behind him. ' For answer, he laid a warning finger on his lips, and deliberately turned the key in the lock, then drew a chair close beside his questioner, and seated him- self with easy familiarity, before he broke the silence. Louis Gervase was not one ordinarily to brook familiarity, even from an equal, and an instantaneous glance on- ly was necessary to see that his com- panion sprang from the lower walks of life. Plebian was written in every line of his face, and in his every action, but there was no resentment in the manner of his host—only curiosity, eager and unrepressed. “You bring me news, Rudolph?” he said, again. “Yes, I bring you news,” answered the other; “and this time I fancy there is no mistake. We are on the right track at last! The hunters have dou- ted on the hare!” “Go on! Tell me all! hidden herself?” “No. marvelous hiding, my dear sir. She has blazoned herself before the eyes of all Europe, except those that were blind. At this moment she is the toast and reigning queen of St. Peters- burg. Little by little she is winning her way into the most select ranks of its society—ranks which at first serried themselves against her, but which fell apart to admit her by magic of a smile or of a glance, The Prince Canorach, one of Russia’s wealthiest nobles, has laid his coronet at her feet, they say, and prays that she will stoop to wear it, Her own resources appear limit- less. Her beauty has gained new radi- ance.” “Her beauty?” interrupted the listen- er. And his hands clenched, while a very fire of hate burned in his eyes, al- ready ablaze with savage passions. “She dares still make of her beauty a; ‘weapon while she has made*me—what Iam?’ And, oh, the concentrated bit- terness that lay in the utterance of these three last, simple words! “And her name? What does she call her- self?” ‘ “Madame Florence,” replied the man. “Tt is she!” cried Gervase, springing to his feet, and walking up and down, the narrow limits of his room, as a lion Where has she might stalk the confines of his cage. Rudolph’s eyes followed him with a contented and a cunning gleam. One might have supposed he, too, had some hidden wrong to avenge,' some baffled purpcese to atone, but the supposition would have been wrong. He gloated only as the lawyer, who has won his case; as the merchant, who has made a successful sale; as the surgeon, who has performed a delicate operation, and saved the patient’s life. He, too, had his profession—the profes- sion which makes men foxes—and he had discovered for the waiting cat the hapless mouse, “Ah! once again to meet her, face to face!” continued ‘Gervase, giving the tess-constrained rein to his thoughts, because of their long repression. “Once again to have, and this time, to hold, her in my power—to make her life the torture she has made of mine! Look, Rudolph, the Cardinal has made all easy for me!” And he drew a folded paper from his pocket and flaunted it before his companion’s face. “It is worth the price I paid for it—aye, it would have been worth two-thirds my fortune, had they demanded so much; but, as it is, it was the reward due my penitence, the act which made good my atonement. Ah, she little deems the power I hold! So a prince offers her his coronet? I must hasten. She must have no strength with which to combat me. Here,- Rudolph,” | and, stopping before an escritoire and hast- ily filling up a check he took from one of its receptacles, he tossed it to the man, whe clutched it as a dog a bone— “here is the sum I promised you. So sure am I that you are right that I make my payment in advance. When I reach St. Petersburg and find that all is well, you shall have another for an equal amount. Such service demands its own reward.” “You are too generous, sir,” mur- mured the recipient of the gift, “Your payment is: princely!” “As it should be, sinee it seems I must cope with princes for my lady's favor. One long, endless year I have waited—one year of eternal night; but the dawn is breaking—the day is ap proaching! But, silence. Rudolph— caution! The bird must not escape my net!” “Fear nothing. We alone hold the secret—you and [. To make the surer, do you desire that I Should accompany you to St. Petersburg?’ He hesitated a moment, then replied: “Yes; but your preparations must be made at once. We start for Russia’s capital to-morrow night.” “So, this is what M. Rudolph’s visits mean!” yttered a man’s voice without the closed:door—the voice of Jean, M. Gervase’s faithful valet, as that indi- vidual magnamimously withdrew his listening ear from the keyhole, and, feeling assured there was no further information to be gleaned, quietly and noiselessly disappeared into the depths where he was supposed during all this time to have been awaiting his mas- ter’s summons, “And they hold the precious secret all to themselves, do they?” he continued, muttering “Well, if my lady doesn’t get some inkling of it, it won’t be Jean Allen’s fault. Blesy her pretty face!” CHAPTER XVI. Never had Madame Florence wieldea more gracefully the scepter of her matchless loveliness than when she welcomed to her table the few guests, among whom Harry Arkwright the previous evening had been enrolled. No woman acted to-night as a foil to her peerless charms. It was one of the priviileges she arrogated to herself to dispense with the society of her own sex when it so pleased her, “I half feared you would play tru- ant,” she whispered. But he could not answer playfully. The atmosphere surrounding her op- pressed him. The open admiration of these men angered him. He remem- bered the lovely English girl, whose ia- nocent smile had stolen his heart. Au! to win her back from this siren, whose eyes laughed on all men, and lured them, softly, resistlessly and pitilessly to their doom! 3 “Am I late? Pardon me!” he an- swered, gravely, “I can well imagine it a crime for which Madame Florence has not often to find punishment.” She took his arm and led the way in- to the dining room. The prince, by honor of his rank,,sat at her right hand. She had assigned him the chair on er left. There were but two other guests—a young attache from some for- eign post, and—Lieutenant Carlo Dam- eroff, A cloud rested on the young officer’s brow, while the prince’s spirits seemed to rise with every moment and every fa of wine. Arkwright forced himself to mingle in the general talk, the more that he felt a certain sudden liking .and ‘compassion for the boy, who found it almost impossible to dis- guise his pain. Madame Florence ap- peared not to note it, except, perhaps, that she treated him with added cold- ness, and leaned, with greater empress- ment, toward the prince. On entering the dining room she car- ried in her hand a superb~bunch of roses, which had been the prince’s gift, and before laying them aside she had disengaged one crimson’ rose and fast- ened it within the bosom of her dress. The royal giver had smiled his approv- of the -act, while a crimson flush had risen to Dameroff’s brow, and beneath his dark mustache his teeth had met upon his lip, The past weeks had borne him along upon a very sea of passion. New and then he looked back upon the past, as one looks at some fair picture, which, with their own hand, they forever ‘marred; but one smile from {he lovely, witching lips; one glance from the dark, soul-lit eyes, and past and future were forgotten, merged in the intoxi- ting joy of a delirious present. But to-night each moment was torture; to- night the smile, the glanee, were not for him, but for the man who seemed to vaunt his superior rank and wealth in Lis very face, until he felt at heart a murderer! (To be continued.) Absentminded. Kibber (who has jostled a dignified gentleman)—Beg pardon, sir. : Justice Farleigh (rather absent-mina- ed)—You will enter the motion in the customary way.—Boston Transcript. i WESTERN MEN Make the Best Sailors in the Best Navy —The American. The brilliant record men in the navy in the recent war has set the authori- ties to thinking, with the result that a brisk effort is to be made to turn some hundreds of the western farmers into sailors for Uncle Sam. The Hart- ford, the famous old man-of-war now serving as a recruiting ship, is now at Mare, Cal., and as soon ag possible will be fitted up for a long cruise. Re- cruiting officers are to be sent out all through the western states, setting forth in terms as alluring as may be the unparalleled felicity of three years on the briny deep with Dewey as your lord, with the chances that more of the sturdy young sons of the plains will come forward than can at present be accommodated. Captain Henry Hawley, who has been assigned to the Hartford, speaks enthusiastical- ly of the abilities of the boys he is to get. ‘We intend to make the cruise of the Hartford as attractive as pos- sible, and we will do everything to make the service of the landsmen Pleasing. We will have a good band of music cn board; will step at the most interesting ports en route, and in other ways do what we can to in- duce the western boys to adopt the serv'ce as their profession. We tried this scheme once before, and with very gratifying results. I have been in- formed by commanders who have had recruits on board from Kansas, Ne- braska, Misscuri, Illindis and other western states that they made the most temperate and intelligent lot of sail- ors ever shipped by them. They are well-behaved, quiet and orderly, and what they lack in seafaring knowledge they make up in zeal and industry. When we only had to supply 12,000 men for our ships we found it difficult to get good sailors, but now that the force has been increased to 17,500 our troubles have grown in proportion. I have a hankering for western men, and hope to corral a lot of them be fore I am through.” EMERSON’S WICKEDNESS. Julia Ward Howe Warned Him About the Devil. In her benighted New York girl- hood Julia Ward Howe was taught to regard Ralph Waldo Emerson as a wicked man and she’ would have de- clined his acquaintance if he had not been introduced to her in a way which made that impossible, says the Boston Transcript. But having once been in- troduced, in the course of a trip be- tween Boston and New York some fif- ty-nine years ago, and then having had her hard judgment of this wicked man softened a little by seeing him carry- ing a poor child on his shoulders, she consented to make him the object of a little missionary work. So she said to him earnestly: “You seem to forget, Mr. Emerson, that the devil is going around all the time, seeking whom he may devour!” “Oh, no, Miss Ward,” he said, “I don’t think I forget it, but don’t you think the angel ought to be stronger than the demon?” This ques- tion seems to have been in the nature of a “sticker” to the young lady from New York and she discontinued her missionary work for that trip. She Asked Him to “Go Away.” She was a dear old lady, and she was spending the summer in a quaint old seaport town of New England, says the New York Times. One morning every one had gone out, leaving her alone in the house. It was not long after that she heard a noise in an ad- joining room, and, going to investigate, she saw a man ransacking a bureau drawer. What most women would have done, if they had not been frightened into immovability or into giving a scream at the awful realization, that there was a burglar in the house,would have been to hurry away anu hide un- til the dreadful man was gone. But that was not what this woman did. She stepped immediately up to um and said: “I am all alone in this house and I want you to go right away.” The strangest part of the story seems to be that the man did go. He had al- ready taken some. things, and those he kept, but he did not wait to look for others. It was not conscience that drove him away, as he kept what he had, and ict could hardly have been fear. It is a standing conundrum in that family why that burglar went away, and no good reason seems to be found unless it was politeness, and he did not like to refuse a lady’s re- quest. Tattooing and Snake Bite. While scientific minds are discus- ing the anti-toxin serum treatment of disease as if it were a new thing, the] people of ancient Burmah are calling attention to the fact that for centuries the material they have used in the common custom of tattooing has been an efficient anti-toxin for snake bites. The tattooed Burmese regard the bites of poisonous snakes as harmlesss. This, at least, is the statement of a gentleman from Burmah, who brings testimony to bear in corroboration of his singular statement. As Represented. Hardacre—Zeke answered an adver- tisement whar they said they’d send him a church organ for a dollar. Drawfoot—What did he get? Hard- acre—A sample copy of the New Light marked: .“This is the best church or- gan published.” What He Was Looking For. Lady—So you, are looking for a square meal, eh? Tramp—No’m; I’m looking for a round one. Lady—I never heard of such a thing. Pray what is a. round meal? Tramp—One dat hasn’t any end to it, mum. _ ‘lous Affections, Victoria Getting Young. 5 In view of the Queen’s approaching visit to the continent, Englishmen are especially interested in her health, It is announced that her heari grown acute and her eyesight keener. Youthful faculties in old age depends upon the health. Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters cures indigestion, constipation, biliousness nervousness, as well as malaria, fever and ague. It’s foolish to supply your wants with unhealthful supplies. “Pride Goeth Before a Fall.” | Some proud people think they are strong, ridicule the idea of disease, neglect health, let the blood run down, and stomach, kid- neys and liver become deranged. Take Hood’s Sarsaparilla and you will p-event the fall and save your pride. Never Disappoints A Study in Mechanics. The Deering Ideal Mower, made in Chicago, affords an interesting study in advanced machines, and is as per- fect -a machine as brain, brawn and money can build. It is furnished throughout with Deering Roller and Ball Bearings. The “Ideal” has a very wide truck and high wheels, in- suring great stabliity and ample trac- tion. Its gears are light, strong’ and reliable. In this machine the amount of lost motion is so slight that the in- stant one of the mower wheels starts it communicates power to the crank shaft and knife, thus making it pos- sible to start in heavy grass without backing...The knife may be removed in fifteen seconds, simply by raising a latch. It is the only mower on the market equipped with ball bearings of the bicycle pattern. © Letters of credit may termed capital letter: be properly List of Patents Issued Last Week to Northwestern Inventors. Join H. Ames, St. Paul, Minn., re- frigerato’ St. Paul, Mipn., y kk Dickerboom, Mank, for detaching . Fergu- 3 , acetylene gas ndo V. Geer, Simpson, Ferdinand Hinrichs, 11, Minn., refrigerator circle Jo- sepp) M. Oldham, Afton, Minn, pneu- me sprayer; J. W. 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