Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, July 6, 1901, Page 6

CHAPTER, XXXVII—(Continued.) And she swept along the broad hails and down the broad stairway, he fol- | lowing, half-stupefied, half-fearful that | yet, in the moment of his victory, it might be snatched from him. A vision of loveliness, she entered the room, where all had gathered, to await her coming. | “Oh, Beatrice!” whispered Cora, | springing to her side. “Don’t marry nim, dear, don't! I once loved him, too } —child as Iam. But now—" She shuddered as conclution to her sentence. ar nothing, dear,” whispered Be- atrice in return. And, wonderingly, Cora resumed her seat. | Only one was absent. Allen’s place | was vacant. As her eyes swept the lit- tle group, he entered and took his place among them. D The clergyman from the village also present in his robe: the hand of Beatrice in his, Randolph advanced into tke room. “Before the ceremony takes place,” he said, “I wish to tell you all that IT am about to be united with one who is inheritor alike to her father’s name and fortune. The cruel mistake regarding her birth has been rectified, and our wedding trip is to the land where we may gather the proof of the statement | which IT have just made. Mists which have clouded h reason have cleared, | and to-night she comes to me—my bride—my wife!” The thrill of an irrepressible triumph was in his voice; his eyes dwelt upon the anticipated pride of possession, on her exquisite loveliness. He made a movement toward the minister, when she checked him. “One word!” she said. “You, as mas- ter of Grey Oaks, gave to your friends . Is it not fitting that I should k e? It is only to,tell them that to obtain proof of which you just have spoken, our contemplated trip will not be necessary. My claim to my name and inheritancé already is made good! I, Beatrice Markham, to-night am mis- tress of Grey Oaks, and the papers to prove it are already mine! Let him dare dispute {t who will!” “Beatrice?” pleaded Chester, “calm yourself! If this be true, it can in no way affect our present course. Remem- ber, your lover's fate hangs on the next half hour!” he whispered, so that she alone might hear. “My lover’s rate!’ she said, aloud. “Yes, you are right! All is ready for a wedding, is it not? It were fitting, then, that there should be no disappointment. There shall be none. What does a change in bridegrooms matter? Ah, Randolph Chester, you believe that I have, indeed, gone mad? Not so! Cow- ard! Villain! Perjurer! To-night you shall take my rightful Iover’s place, as he shall step into yours—but yours in outward semblance only! here I yield him honor, I yield you contempt! Where I give him my worship, I give you disdain! Where to him I proffer love, honor and all wifely obedience, to you I throw the scorn which you so fit- tingly deserve! Men, do your duty! As she uttered the last command, her voice rose higher. The doors leading to the library were thrown open, and four officers of the law entered and stepped to Mr. Ches- ‘ter's side. Behind them stood Tyrrell, and still behind them, alone and unfettered, Ber- tram Talbot. With one glad cry of rapture, unheed- ing all the rest, Reatrice hastened to- ward him, felt his dear arms close about her, while her tired head rested on his ‘breast. Forked lightning flashed from Ran- fiolph Chester's eyes as he glanced from ‘one to the other of those who had so dately been his guests. “What does this farce mean?” he questioned, finding voice at last, but in- stinctinctively conscious, light as was the detaining grasp upon his sleeve, that ‘it soon would tighten into force should the strive to break free from it. “You wish to know what it means, Randolph Chester?” replied Bertram Talbot, while his arm held Beatrice more closely to him. “It means that you called checkmate too soon! It means that defeat, instead of victory, is the issue of your bitter war against honor and truth! It means that as you fhave dealt to others, so shall measure be meted out to you—perjurer and false witness! You shall stand in the box to which you condemned me. You shall occupy to-night the cell which I have feft va t! You shall wear the cor.- vict's be’ with which you, so merci- lessly, would have dishonored me!” “You can prove nothing!” said Ches- ter. “We can prove all!” retorted Talbot. Must you see the papers to believe? Mr. Leyton, show them to him!” ‘Allen drew from his breast pocket a packet and slowly unfolded it. One pa- per was plainly marked as Donald Markham’s will, with date affixed. The certificates, too, were easily scanned. Chester laughed, sardonically. “All this proves nothing against me,” fe said. “I did not know that this was tru “And this man’s testimony—think you {t will also prove nothing?” asked Tal- bot, and, pointing to Tyrrell, who, cow- ering behind the rest, had hitherto been unseen by his late master. e brought him, too?” sneered r. “And the game is up, eh? Well, I made a good fight, and it was for the sake of a woman's face. Aye, Beatrice Markham, remember it always, when you reyel in the calm,even current such men as you call love, that you throw away the mad torrent worthier the name. Yes; you have won, and I fhave lost. A traitor has betrayed me! One day earlier, and the game would have been mine—one little day, that all eternity cannot restore, the eternity to which in this moment, I consign my wretched soul!” As he spoke, with the swiftness of | judge in one. LILLIAN GILLIN. thought he wrenched one arm free from the grasp of the man who held it, and drew from his breast pocket the tiny pistol with which he had _ threatened Talbot that morning in the cell, and held it against his temple; but ere he could pull: the trigger Layton had seized his hand. He was overpowered, and they wrested it from his nerveless hand. ‘You must csme with us, Mr. Ches- ter,” said one of the men. But Peatrice, lifting her head from its advanced to their side. she answered. He has sinned only against me and the man I love. He n do us no further harm. His con- science shall be his sole accuser and sole There can be no ch: e if Let him go free!” Bertie, with a we prefer none. “Beatrice?” pleaded glance of pleading love. She silenced him. “It is my wish,” she said, “and our noblest revenge. It is Christmas night, dear. Don’t let us forget that.” An hour later, and in the gloomy sol- itude of his own rooms, the false and perjured master of Grey Oaks sat alone. Though he had not been present at the ceremony, he knew that already the s2- ered vows had been spoken which had made Bertram Talbot and Beatrice Markham one—knew that, except to de- stroy human life, he could harm neithe- more. Black as the night was his own soul, which his surging passions tossed to and fro upon the rocks where. it had met its shipwreck. Suddenly a knock sounded low on his door. He rose and opened it. To his surprise, Edith Lorrimer stood before him. “Our schemes have failed,” she said, in a low, earnest, thrilling whispet. “You have lost the woman and I the man we love. Take me away with you anywhere, anywhere, so that I may ‘never see their faces more.” “You wife?” “Yes, if you will have it so. fitted only for one another.” “So be it,” he replied. And thus the loveless contract was sealed between them. The morning dis- covered both missing. For Allen she had left only these few hurried words: “I give you back your freedom as my best Christmas gift.” “She has resigned my fortune,” he said to himself, and guessed not yet the mad love which had made such pitiful ruin of its own hopes. But here was no more for him to do at Grey Oaks. Together with his moth- er and sister, he bade it adieu. “Promise that you will return in the summer?” peleaded Beatrice. “Promise that you will-let us welcome you then?” He smiled sadly. “For mother and for Cora T will prom- ise you,” he answered; “but for my- self’—his voice sank to a whisper—“I dare not come!” he said. And something in his tone, rather than in the words themselves, silenced her further. In the evening’s gloaming of another day she and Ber alone at Grey Oaks, stood silently beside one of the windows of the room which had been to them so memorable. Her head was on his heart, his arm about her slender waist. Each had listened to all that had happened to the other during these long and weary months of suffering. “Poor little fly!” he said, after a few minutes’ silence. “He boasted truly. Another day and your fluttering wings would have been beyond our rescue!” She shuddered and lifted up her lips for his caress. Thus she might banish thought and memory. The sweetness of the present wiped out the cruel past. Her happiness was worth the price paid for its possession. Alone in the lodge sat Tyrrell, but he gazed only into the fire, and the steam- ing jug, for once, was absent. “T can’t understand it,” he muttered to himself. “It’s all as peaceful as a May morning, and the staring eyes are gone. I can slape and drame without their disturbing me. But Miss Beatrice is safe—thank God! and Tyrrell O’Byrne helped to make her so. Thank God, too, for that! Tyrrell O’Byrne she’s prom- ised to keep in her service so long as a drop of the cratur don’t pass his lips; and shure she’s’ taken the oath agin it for good. But shure and I wish it had been the other chap as she married.” And so, with one backward glanc2 and Tyrrell’s one regret, we leave them all— the spider and the would-be victims. The web he had so carefully woven is shattered. The prisoners so nearly fet- tered, freed. The spider—homeless, a wanderer, an unloved wife and an ac- cusing conscience his companions for- ever more. But Beatrice and Bertram frogot the revenge already wreaked, in their own happy lives, and in the consciousness that no more webs could sully their beautiful home, and that henceforth Grey Oaks may boast no mystery. THE END. mean to go with me as my We are Gerome the Great. The career of Gerome, the famous French painter, has been one long tri- umph; early in life he made fame, very soon riches began to follow; for many years he has been probably the wealth~ fest artist in the world. He is old now, but nore the less, he has still the lithe, active figure of a boy. He has the artist’s direct, searching gaze, but the brow and jaw of a sol- dier—of Kitcnener, to speak in the terms of the day, or of Napoleon, whom he has made his hero and celebrated over and over again in picture and stat- ue. He speaks most often with the terse force of a general at a critical moment of the battle, and makes vio- lent gestures. M. Gerome still lives in his palatial home near Montmatre, which was built twenty years ago.—Chicago News. » ATT As ad 3 - 5 co ee Tae, oF nme DEVOLUTION General Washington wanted a man. It was in September, 1776, at the City of New York, a few days after the battle of Long Island. The swift and deep Hast River flowed between the two hostile armies, and General Wash- ington had as yet no system establish- ed for getting information of the en- emy’s movements and intentions. He never needed such information so much as at that crisis. What would General Howe do next? If he cross at Hell Gate, the American army, too small in numbers, and de- feated the week before,might be caught on Manhattan island as in a trap, and the issue of the contest might be made to depend upon a single battle; for in such circumstances defeat would in- volve the capture of the whole army. And yet General Washington was com- pelled to confess: ; “We cannot learn, nor have we been able to possess, the least information of late.” Therefore he wanted a man. He wanted an intelligent man, cool-head- ed, skillful, brave, to cross the East River to Long Island, enter the en- emy’s camp and get information as to his strength and intentions. He went to Colonel Knowlton, commandig a re- markably efficient regiment from Con- necticut, and requested him: to ascer- tain if this man so sorely needed could be found in his command. Colonel Knowlton called his officers together, stated the wishes of General Washing- ton, and, without urging the enter- CAPT, HALE DISGUISED AS A DUTCH SCHOOLMASTER. prise upon any individual, left the mat- ter to their reflections. Captain Nathan Hale, a brilliant youth of 21, recently graduated from Yale college, was one of those who refiected upon the subject. He soon reached a conclusion. He was of the very flower of the young men of New Engiand, and one of the best of the younger soldiers of the patriot army. He had been educated for the minis- try, and his motive in adopting for a fame the profession of arms was purely patriotic. This we know from the familiar records of his life at the time when the call to arms was first heard. In addition to his other gifts and graces, he was handsome, vigorous and athletic, all in an extraordinary de- gree. If he had lived in our day he might have pulled the stroke oar at New London or pitched for the college nine. The officers were conversing in a group. No one had as yet spoken the decisive word. Colonel Knowlton ap- pealed to a French sergeant, an old soldier of former wars, and asked him to volunteer. “No, no,” said he. “I am ready to fight the British at any place and time, but I do not feel willing to go among them to be hung up like a dog.” Captain Hale joined the group of officers. He said to Colonel Knowl- ton: “IT will undertake it.” Some of his best friends remon- strated. One of them, afterwards the famous Gen. William Hull, then a cap- tain in Washington’s. army, has re- corded Hale’s reply to his own attempt to dissuade him. - “I think,” said Hale, “! owe to my country the accomplishment of an ob- ject so important. I am fully sensible of the consequences of discovery and capture in such a situation. But for a year I have been attached to the army, and have not rendered any material service, while receiving a compensa- tion for which I make no return. I wish to be useful, and every kind of service necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being neces- sary.” He spoke, as General Hull remem- bered, with earnestness and decision, as one who had considered the mat- ter well, and had made up his mind. Having received his instructions, he traveled fifty miles along the Sound as far as Norwalk, in Connecticut. One who saw him there made a very wise remark upon him, to the effect that he was “too good looking” to go as a spy. He could not deceive. “Some scrubby fellow ought to have gone.” At Nor- walk he assumed the disguise of a Dutch schoolmasteg, putting on a suit of plain brown clothes and a round, broad-brimmed hat. He had no diffi- culty in crossing the Sound, since he bore an order from General Washing- ton which placed at his disposal all the vessels belonging to Congress. For several days everything appears to have gone well with him, and there is reason to believe that he passed through the entire British army with- out detection or even exciting suspi- cion, Finding the British had crossed to New York, he followed them. He made his way back to Long Island, and near- ly reached the point opposite Norwalk where he hand originally landed. Ren- dered, perhaps, too bold by success, he went into a well-known and popular tavern, entered into conversation with the guests and made himself very agreeable. The tradition is that he made himself too agreeable. A man present, suspecting or knowing that he was not the character he had as- sumed, quietly left the room, commun- icated his suspicions to the captain of a British ship anchored near, who dis- patched a boat’s crew to capture and" bring on board the agreeable stranger. His true character was immediately re- vealed. Drawings of some of the Brit- ish works, with notes in Latin, were found hidden in the soles of his shoes. Nor did he attempt to deceive his cap- tors, and the English captain, lament- ing, as he said, that “so fine a fellow had fallen into his power,” sent him to New York in one of his boats, and with him the fatal proofs that he was aspy. September 21st was the day on which he reached New York—the day of the great fire which laid one-third of the little city in ashes. From the time of his departure from General Washing- ton’s camp to that of his return to New York was about fourteen days. He was taken to General Howe’s head- quarters at the Beekman mansion, on the East river, near the corner of the Present Fifty-first street and First avenue. It is a strange coincidence that the house to which he was brought to be tried as a spy was the very one from which Major Andre departed when he went to West Point. Tradi- tion says that Captain Hale was. ex- amined in a greenhouse which then stood in the garden of the Beekman mansion. Short was his trial, for he avowed at once his true character. The British general signed an order to his provost- marshal directing him to receive into his custody the prisoner convicted ag “I ONLY REGRET THAT I HAVE BUT ONE LIFE TO LOSE FOR MY COUNTRY.” a spy, and to see him hanged by the neck “tomorrow morning at day- break.” Terrible things dre reported of the manner in which this noble prisoner, this admirable gentleman and hero, was treated by his jailer and execu- tioner. There are savages in every large army, and it is possible that this provost-marshal was one of them. It is said that he refused him writing materials, and afterward, when Cap- tain Hale had been furnished them by others, destroyed before his face his last letters to his mother and to the young lady to whom he was engaged to be married. As those letters were never received, this statement may be true. The other alleged horrors of the execution it is safe to disregard, be- cause we know it was conducted in the usual form and in the presence of many spectators and a considerable body of troops. One fact shines out from the distracting confusion of that morning, which will be cherished to the latest posterity as a precious ingot of the moral treasures of the Ameri- can people. When asked if he had anything to say, Captain Hale re- plied: : “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” The scene of his execution was prob- ably an old graveyard in Chambers street, which was then called Barrack street. General Howe formally noti- fied General Washington of his execu- tion. In recent years, through the in- dustry of investigators. the pathos and sublimity of these events have been in part revealed. A few years ago a bronze statue of the young hero was unveiled in the New York City Hall Park. It is greai- ly to be regretted that our knowledge of this noble martyr is so slight; but we know enough to be sure that he merits the veneration of his coun! Rival to Silken Fans. ‘A man without sense of romance has invented and patented a mechani- chal hand fan, and sets it up as a rival of the toy gauze and lace which has been a feminine weapon through untold ages. His fan buzzes and is not beau- tiful, but it provides a steady draught of cool air. In appearance it is a cross between an egg-beater and a glove-stretcher. It is made of wood and brass, and he asserts that, in expert hands, it can be made to reach a speed of 8,000 revolu- tions per minute, and will throw a cur- rent of air as far as an electric fan of the same size. It works by compressing in the hand two wooden handles of a glove-stretch- er-like arrangement. A ratchet and two small cog wheels at the end of the arms transmit the force to the blades of the fan, which’ are miniature electric fan blades. Both of these are detach- able, so that the fan may be easily carried when not in use. The inventor says that he has dis- posed of 4,000 of his hand fans in a few months. He isn’t sanguine of its gen- eral adoption by the gentler sex, but he thinks that lots of men would use it in hot weather. Sentiment ought not to play any part in comfort-seeking, he says, but has to admit that it general- ly does.—New York Sun. Better Than “Christian Science.” Jetmore, Kans., July ist.—Mrs. Anna Jones Freeman, daughter of Mr. G. G. Jones of Burdett, and one of the most popular ladies in Hodgeman County, has been a martyr to headache. It has made her life a continual misery to her. She suffered pains in the small of the back, and had every symptom of Kidney and Urinary Trouble. To-day she is as well as any lady in the state. This remarkable change was due en- tirely to a remedy recently introduced here. It is called Dodd’s Kidney Pills, and many people claim it to be an in- fallible cure for Kidney Diseases, Rheumatism and Heart Trouble. Mrs. Freeman heard of Dodd’s Kid- ney Pills, and almost with the first dose she grew better. In a wéek her head- aches and other pains had gone, and she had left behind her all her illness and days of misery. A medicine that can do for any one what Dodd’s Kidney Pills have done for this lady, is very sure soon to be uni- versally used, and already the demand for these pills has increased wonderful- ly in Pawnee and Hodgeman Counties, where the particulars of Mrs. Free- mans case and its cure are known. She Knew Him. “All is lost save honor,” telephoned the defeated candidate to his wife at 2 a. m.. “Well, you'll have to walk home, then,” she answered, “for that won't do you any good on the owl cars.” And nothing but the low, hoarse buz- zing of the telephone wires answered her. PATENTS. List of Patents Issued to Northwes Northwestern Inventors. George H. Conant, Minneapolis, Minn., dump weighing scale; Gustaf A. Erickeon, Minneapolis, Minn., artifi- cial leg; Claus O. Giere, Hayfield, Minn., mail box; Ctarles E. Hogbers, Red Wing, Mimn., baker’s oven; Chas. A. Mall, St. Paul, Minn., receptacle or envelope; Charles Nelson, Duluth, Minn, coffee boiler; Edward Oredalen, Spring Creek, Minn., machine gearing; Arba Vrooman, Hunter, N. D., vegeta- ble topping machine. Lothrop & Johnson, patent attorneys, 911 & 912 Pioneer Press Bldg., St. Paul, Minn. The Modern View. Son—I haven't the advantage you had when you were a young man, father. Father—You haven't? Son—-Certainly not; you didn’t have to waste four years of your life in col- lege, like I have done.—Ohio State Jour- nal. Not Expensive Enough. Mr. Park Slope—Do you believe that the doctors will agree that, after all, salt is the elixir of life? Mr. Midwood—Never! It’s too cheap! Brooklyn Eagle. Ladies Can Wear Shoes One size smaller after using Allen's Foot-Ease, a powder. It makes tight or new shoes easy. Cures swollen, hot, sweating, aching feet, ingrowing nails, corns and bunions. All druggists and shoe stores, 25c. Trial package FREB by mail. Address Allen S. Olmsted, Le Roy, N. ¥. Money to loan at low rates on farm pro- pony: List your surplus money with me. pay 43¢ to 5 er cent. interest on sums of 5100 and up. lorhnetes farms and city rope! ught and sold. References. Bivyn F. Larson, Durand, Wisconsin. Fashion in K. “What did that Kansas woman want?” “She wanted a hatchet pocket put in the side of her seal coat.”—Chicago Record. Time proves all things. It has seen Wizard Oil cure pain for over forty years. Many people know this. Appreciation. She—I like some of your articles very much. He—Oh, I'm so glad! Which was the part you liked specially? She—Well, I liked the quotation from Balzac.—Punch. Hall's Catarrh Cure Is taken internally. Price, 750. A Narrow Escape. May—You came near accepting Jack once, didn’t you? Belle—Oh, yes! I offered to toss @ coin to see if I would marry him, but he didn’t have a coin to toss.—Puck, Cured. Notts ornervousness after ‘day’s use of Dr. Kline’s Great Nerve Restorer, @ond for FREE $2.00 trial bottle ‘treatise, Ta. R, H. King, 7.td., 931 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. ‘When in doubt as to what color is be- coming, one is generally safe in buying dark-blue, N. W. N. UL —No. 27— 1901. PISO'S CURE FOR a ‘ “ \y Lp i { ‘ ae oo ff ‘ »