Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 23, 1903, Page 2

| K iN X\ w\ K K iN p XK CHAPTER XXIX. Burt Makes Another Move. When Kate Purcell had answered thus the question they had asked, she had forgotten that she had no claim to the little house that sheltered her; that everything, in reality, belonged to Richard Burt. Burt was not the man to forget that fact. A week after Charles Purcell had been buried, Burt came down to the shore and went directly to the place where Kate stayed alone. He still had hopes that circum- stances might have softened the girl’s resolution in regard to him. He still faintly expected that thinking of the woman she had seen with Vance Roth- esay might have changed her some- what. He knew the woman in the woods Ahere was Rothesay’s sister, but he felt tolerably sure that Kate did not know it. Dick guessed, and rightly this time, that Rothesay was not like- ly to write to Kate, even if allowed to do so, until he should know more cer- tainly how the trial should go with him. ie Dick believed that Rothesay had something of that foolish, chivalrous feeling that he would-not address the girl he loved while he was under so dark a cloud. Burt approached the house with more agitation than he would have owned. He had resolved to appear to have forgotten all of Kate’s words to him the last time he had seen her. But ‘the was prepared for desperate measures—for nothing less than ab- ducting her if she refused. The affair would be easy enough. She was alone there, and he knew all the ways of the neighborhood. Once | having been carried off, of course she would marry him. But he hoped to} succeed by less violent measures. Kate was sitting by the window at work. She looked up in surprise at sight of him, but suffering had in a way benumbed her so that the sight of him gave her but little feeling. What was he, or anything, to her now that she should suffer or be glad? So little did Burt know human na- ture as exemplified in Kate Purcell that he took this apathy of manner as a tacit encouragement.. He did not know how the flame might still leap from those quiet eyes—how the lip might curl with scorn. He sat down opposite her and said: “I should have come down betore, but I only got the news in time to get here’ now. I hope you'll accept my sympathy, Kate.” ‘ She bent her head and went on sew- ing. After a few more remarks he thought it was time to get to the busi- ness in his mind. “T suppose you know, Kate, that this place is mine, now. Your father's death only hastened my possession.” How could she have forgotten it? And yet, in the press of other troubles, she had forgotten what she knew to be the truth. And she had been staying several days beneath Richard Burt’s roof. The thought was not pleasant. “T will go directly,” she said, rising. “Jt is unpardonable in me to have for- gotten such a thing.” ! He rose and stood claiming: “You dén’t think I wish to drive you away like that, I hope. You ought to know how gladly I would make every- thing I have yours. You have but to say one word, and I am your slave for- ever.” “You know I shall never say that word,” was the response. Burt felt his anger rising. But for the sake of the plan he had made re governed himself and only said in re- ply: “I did hope that the last few weeks | might have softened your heart to me, Kate, when you must know how sin- cerely I love you. These days that have passed have made me repent if 1 | have used harsh words to you. Pray remember that I was beside myself with grief and disappointment. I can- not give up the hope of winning you, but I will not persecute you any more. Do not move from this house until you have made every arrangement for a comfortable removal. I would ask you to make it your home, but I know you would refuse.” Burt could put on very well the ap- | pearance of honesty, and he succeeded now. “T shall leave the house to-morrow,” | said Kate. before her, ex- PVVVVVVV VY VV A Daughter of the Beach ‘ NX AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANA | sleeper. NX NX N NX N NX of time. She tied up in a bundle the vests she had been making; and took them to a neighbor to be delivered to the man when he came for the work he had left at different houses. “Mercy sake, Kate! Ye ain’t goin’ away, be ye?” was the question the woman asked her as she left the bun- dle. “Yes,” was the answer, in that dull “way which comes to some whose hearts have been overstrained. “Law! do tell! Where be ye goin?” “I don’t know.” And Kate did not know. The strong vein of good seuse and strong “calcu- lation,” as the Yankees say, which was in Kate seemed entirely in abey- ance now. She knew that she was going away, but it had thus far been impossible for her to take any thought as to her destination; she only felt vaguely that she would not for the world remain beneath Richard Burt’s roof a single night longer than she lad said. What difference did her going or staying make to her? Her father was dead; she did not know that she had any friends; the man she loved was not true to her. She smiled drearily as she wondered why she should take any care to prolong a life grown so in- tolerable. It was. late in the night before she | went to her room, and, extinguishing the light, lay down without undress- ing. She had not expected to sleep, but the terrible and utter weariness which oppressed her made her fall im- mediately into a sleep so deep as to be almost a stupor. A man, watching with what patience he could outside the house, uttered an exclamation of relief when darkness | at length came over the house. But in spite of his daring, he rather disliked the task before him, though he had no idea of shrinking from it. He did not hesitate. He sat down on the sands a short distance from the house, in a spot where people were not likely to come. He wrapped his cloak closely about | him, for the wind had come out east, | and a thick mist was blowing in from the water. He must wait until-it was likely she was asleep. He let an hour pass, and then he walked back to the road and to a house near where a horse and light carriage stood awaiting his move- ment. A man moved out from a barn near by, carrying a lantern. “I’ve just harnessed the horse, Dick,” the man said. “You'll find him all right. You are an odd stick to pre- fer to ride in the night.” “I have my reasons,” was the reply. “Tl see that you have your horse to- morrow or next day.” “All right.” And Dick drove off. It was so late now that he did not fear that any one would be about. He hitched his horse in the road near the house where Kate slept and walked quickly, but softly, up to the house. He knew that the fastening of one win- dow had long been broken, and that he could open it from the outside. He pushed up the sash and crawled in; then went to the door and softly turned the key, that he might have no ebstacles in his way. Then he stood still to listen, and he beard not the slightest sound from Kate’s room. He went noislessly up the stairs and into her room. He was provided with all the approved and modern appliances of abduction or robbery, for he did not mean to fail. In his pocket»was a small vial and sponge. . He stood in the center of the room and listened to the girl’s deep breathing for a moment. Then Ke} took his implements, from his pocket, and a powerful odor diffused _ itself through the room. He approached the bed and applied the moistened sponge to the nostrils of the unconscious The breathing of the girl deepened into a sound that was painful to hear. Burt lost no time now. He took her in his arms and hurried down the stairs, thankful that there was no one else in the house and that he need not be alarmed if he should make a noise, now that Kate was insensible. It did not take him long to reach the carriage and deposit his burden care- fully within it—to unhitch the horse, gather up the lines, and ride away, triumphant. “Devilish odd,” he thought with a smile, “how people will oppose me, when they ought to know I never yet failed of carrying my point.” He urged the horse on rapidly, while he carefully supported his companion, now expecting every moment that the Burt lowered his eyes to conceal the satisfaction in them. He wished her | to stay there that night. Then he left her, telling himself that | still remained unconscious, he began open air would revive her. But as the moments passed and she to be alarmed and to fear he had ad- to-morrow by that time she would be | ministered too much chloroform. But in his power. Then no more pleading | before he had become too much afraid with her; no more humbling of him- | Kate stirred a little, and then made self to that girl, who should hereafter humble herself to him. He went away feeling as sure of his prey as the hunter does of the beast he sees struggling in his’ trap. As for Kate, with that mechanical | action which had characterized all her movements of late, she began gather- ing together the few things she wished to take with her. They were not many, and the task was soon done. an attempt to withdraw herself from his arm, murmuring some incoherent} words. Now was to come the time which | Burt dreaded most of all, the time when Kate should discover what he had done, and all the depth of the vil- lainy of which he was capable. He did not speak; he waited, still urging his horse to go on rapidly. Sense and memory came back very Then she did not know what to do. | slowly to the girl, but they soon came She wanted to be busy every moment | back sufficiently for ‘her to gain '| main silent until she had something of | the sense of her : tion. In the quarter of an hour which ¢ol- lowed all the past and .present ap- peared to come with terrible vividness before Kate. 3 The apathy that had been like a mer- -ciful cloud about her for a few days past was swept away, and memory, in its anguish, was hers in all power. Her mind was again keenly alive. A flash of intelligence revealed her situ- ‘| ation fully to her and she knew how | helpless she was. What should she do? Where was Dick Burt taking her? She knew his object must be to make her his wife—but how soon?—when? —where? With an effort she remained out- wardly calm, resolved to do nothing rashly. Burt was becoming anxious at her silence, for he thought she was recoy- ered from the effects of the chioro- form. She was sitting without any support now, save.that his arm was lightly round her waist, hardly touch- ing her, however, for fear she would resent the contact. He looked down at her face, and in the gloom he saw the steady gleam of her eyes.~ Yes, she had her senses now, le knew, and ‘he fancied there was a very rebellious look in her face. if she was wise she would know she must surrender now. He wished she would speak; he be- gan really to be nervous, and to fear, he knew not what. Of one thing he would make certain—that she shoutd not Jeap from the carriage, if she was foolish enough to contemplate such a thing. He put his arm firmly about her; she shrank, but she did not struggle. He must break the silence, and finally he said: “You know I told you, Kate, that all was fair in love and war, and that I never gave up a resolution.” She did not speak; she felt that she had not much strength to spare on words, and she knew by this time how useless words when used to him. “Do you remember that I told you that?” he persisted. “I remember,” she spoke at last. “And now you see that I meant what I said,” he went on, bound to make her talk, for in spite of himself he still feared her some way, though she was helpless enough now. “I suppose you thought I was only threatening because I was disappoint- ed in your love.” She did not reply. She was looking straight before her, trying to think of some way by which she could escape. Wild ideas of throwing herself from her seat crossed her mind, but she knew how futile such an attempt would be. “You are concocting something!” he exclaimed, angrily, and lashing his horse as he spoke. “I hope you are not wild enough to think of escaping from me now! I swear you cannot do ith", Still continued the silence that seemed to set him raging. 5 “You think to circumvent me, do you?” he resumed, with a harsh laigh. “You may try it on if you like, but you'll find you don’t hold the winning hand this time; and, by Jove, there’s no lying Rothesay about now to step between you and me!” A strong shudder shook the girl’s frame; the hands under the cloak Burt had wrapped about her clenched themselves tightly. . Vance Rothesay! Oh, if she could but believe him true! if she could but have that utter faith in him to sustain her now! Her soul cried for him with that anguish which it seemed as if he must feel and to which he must re- spond. Yes, he must be true! He could not be so false. Something could explain the presefice of that woman whom she had seen. (To Be Continued.) The Aristocracy of Germs. “And so the physicians have made a culture from the food which is sup- posed to have caused your illness?” we say to Mrs. Spreadditon. “Indeed, yes,” she answers, “and they have discovered millions of mi- erobes in it.” “Just fancy!” we exclaim, throwing as much haut ton into our language as possible. “And,” she goes on with a_ proud smile, “not a single bacillus was found in the whole lot that did not spell its name in ten.syllables or more.” Is that day upon us when the prole- tariat may only enjoy the common or garden germ with an easily remem- bered name?—Chicago Tribune. A Blow to the Street Starer. Some unaccountable fad has beén started by the ultra-fashionable women that distinguishes them as they drive in the park. Instead of hiding their aristocratic features beneath a veil, they shield their faces with a muff, usually of glistening sable. Mrs. Will- iam Douglas Sloane, who drives in the park as regularly as the sun shines, hides her face in her muff invariably, and when Mrs. Ogden Mills, in her new capriolet, rolls past, she is either plunged into the furry depths of her muff or is reading. Mrs. Hamilton Mc- Kay Twombley follows the same fash- ion, and her silver fox muff is usually poised in front of her face.—New York Press, Hard for Him. Visitor—So you've got a cat and a dog. You should be glad to have such nice pets. Tommy—Oh, the# ain’t much use to me; they don’t lfke cake or jam.” Visitor—Well? Tommy—Well, they’re never blamed for any that’s missing.—Philadelphia Press. When a woman suffers in silence it is because there is nobody around to be scolded, _— Taking It For Granted. The night was warm and the porch was wide pee the soft wind wafted the music's une, As a youth and a maiden sat side by side "Neath the witching light of the sum- mer moon. Said the youth: “There's a maiden 1 dearly love; She's as fair as the daybreak and pure as gold, M With a voice as soft as a cooing dove And a mouth like a bud with one leaf unrolled. “The gleam of her eyes makes the star- light pale, And she’s witty and clever, well read and bred.” The maid’s cheeks flushed at this glow- ing tale And—‘I love you, too,” she said. —Love, Laurels and Laughter. Mary Stuart’s Watch. Many fanciful shapes have from time to time been given to the external cases of watches, but it is difficult to account for the peculiar taste which prevailed some centuries ago for time- pieces in the shape of skulls and cof: fins. These watches memento mori. the drawing of, was’ presented by Mary, Queen of Scots, as a token of her affection to, pretty Mary Seaton, were called One, which we give her faithful maid-of-honor. The watch is in the form of a skull, the dial oc- eupying the place of the palate, the works that of the brain. The hours were marked in Roman letters, and a small silver bell did the striking. Coffer Fish. This strange looking fish is well protected against attack. The body is covered with defensive armor, con- sisting of six-sided plates, set together so as to form a kind of mosaic. They are only found in the seas between or near the tropics. The horny box in which the fish is enclosed gives it its proper name—the coffer-trunk fish. Scarcely any of the big rapacious in- habitants of the deep could crush it, though possibly a shark might swallow ‘it. Even in that case the coffer would ‘not improbably eat its way out of the ‘sides of the shark. Match Spark Blinded Him. Andrew Seranki of Homestead, Pa., has been made totally blind in a most peculiar manner, Four years ago | while he was beside his brother John | the latter struck a match to light his | pipe, when a particle of the flame fiew | into the left eye of Andrew and de- stroyed the sight. Recently Seranki himself struck a | match to light a cigarette, when a par- | ticle of the match flew into his right | eye and so affected that eye that it is | said he will be totally blind. Odd Autograph. WU Le W. H. Hill writes his name so it reads the same.right side up or upside down. Cloud of Locusts. A Dutch traveler, Kurt Dinter, who | has just returned from southern Afri- ca, says that one day, while in camp in Hottentot land, he heard a rushing sound as if rain were falling in tor: rents. Not far away it seemed to him- as if a cloud had actually begun to fall upon the earth. The cloud turned out to be locusts. The planters and cattle raisers soon appeared with their men and gathered them in bags. They smoked the insects to kill them, and then dried them in the sun, after which they were fed to the dogs, chickens, pigs, goats and cattle. The | traveler found that oxen and horses | are especially fond of locusts, and get fat and strong during the locust sea- son, as do the natives, who also gorge themselves. Motoring Hood. . | This is the hood Princess Henry of Pless wears when automobiling. Bears Eat Workmen’s Dinners. A hungry Catskill mountain bear and two half-grown cubs ate up the dinners of a score of Philadelphia mechanics who arrived the other morning at the hotel on South Moun- tain to make repairs. The bears es- caped. ‘ Mrs. F. Wright, of Oelwein, Iowa, is another oné of the million women who have been restored to. health by Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. ‘ Overshadowing indeed is the success of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege- table Compound — compared with it, all other medicines for women are experiments. Why has it the greatest record for absolute cures of any female medicine in the world? Why has it lived and thrived and done its glorious work among women for a quarter of a century? Simply because of its sterling worth. The reason that no other medicine has ever reached its success is be- cause there is no other medicine so successful in curing woman’s ills. Re- member these important facts when a druggist tries to sell you something which he says is just as good. A Young New York Lady Tells of a Wonderful Cure:— “Dear Mrs. Prvknam:— My trouble was with the ovaries; I am tall, and the doctor said I grew too fast for my strength. I suffered creed tay from inflammation and doctored continually, but got no help. I suf- fered from terrible dragging sensations with the most awful pains low down in the side and pains in the back, and the most agonizing head- aches. No one knows what Iendured. Often I was sick to the stomach, and every little while I would be too sick to go to work for three or four days; I work in a large store, and I suppose standing on my feet all day made me worse. “ At the suggestion of a friend of my mother’s I began to take Lydia E. Pinkham’s ‘Vegetable Compound, and it is simply wonderful. T felt better after the first two or three doses; it seemed as though a weight was taken off my shoulders; I continued its use until now I can truthfully say I am entirely cured. Young girls who are alw: paying doctor’s bills without getting any help as I did, ought to tal our medicine. It costs so much less, and it is sure to cure them. ours truly, AprLaipr Praut, 174 St. Ann’s Ave., New York City.” ‘Women should not fail to profit by Miss Adelaide Prahl’s experiences; just as surely as she was cured of the troubles enu- merated in her letter, just so certainly will Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound cure others who suffer from womb trou- bles, inflammation of the ovaries, kidney troubles, nervous exci- tability, and nervous prostration; remember that it is Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound that is curing women, and don’t allow any druggist to sell you anything else in its place. If there is anything in your case about which you would like special advice, write freely to Mrs. Pinkham. She can surely help ope for no person in ‘erica has such a wide experience in treating female ills as she has had. Address is Lynn, Mass.; her advice is free and alway helpful. t Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co., Lynn, Mass. a A Comforter. Friend—I noticed Mr. Bluffwood rid- Child-Psychoiogy. One hundred children were handed each a hot iron. Thirty-three boys and eighteen girls said “Ouch!” Twenty-five girls and ten boys said “Oouch!” “Of the girls who said “Ouch!” sev- en had pug noses and toed in. Thirteen boys born of foreign par- ents said “Oouch!” The conclusions to be drawn from this interesting experiment will be embodied in a book and published in the Practical Science Series.—Life. Hall’s Catarrh Cure Is taken internally. Price, 75c. Snatched a Doughnut. Harold had been sent to the house of a friend of his mother’s, and had been told to hurry home the moment the errand was done. When he reached the home of Mrs. B. he found the family about to sit down to sup- per, and on the table was a plate of tempting-looking doughnuts a dainty of which Harold was particularly fond. “Will you not stay and eat supper with us, Harold?” asked Mra, B. “No, ma’am, thank you,” said Har- old, “I haven’t time. In fact, I’ve searcely time to take one of those doughnuts.”—Lippincott’s Magazine. To Cure a Cold in One day, Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. All druggists refund money ifitfails to cure. 25c. A woman thinks she is a good talker when she is able to entertain herself. There is a place for everything, but few people have access to the index. ing with you in the carriage. Widow—Yes, he was very consoling. Friend—Did he speak about the good deeds of your husband? Widow—No; but he said I looked well in black.—Chicago News. Do Your Feet Ache and Burn? Shake into your shoes, Allen’s Foot- Ease, a powder for the feet. It makes | tight or New Shoes feel Easy. Cures Swollen, Hot, Sweating Feet, Corns and Bunions. At all Druggists and Shoe Stores, 25c. Sample sent FREE. Address Allen S. Olmsted, LeRoy, N. Y. To steal a loaf of bread for a stary- ing child—that is robbery. To swindle a widow out of her estate—that is finance. What a lot of men would know if they could swap their ignorance for knowledge. Pais Met a TaN Look for this trade mark: “ The Klean, Ki Kitchen Kind.” The stoves withont thee ashes or heat. Make comfortable cooking. pela acne: 2a asare 5 The man who wants “harrowing de- tails” can find them in the agricultural journals. j piesa at eae PURI eG All creameries use butter color. Why not do as they do—use JUNE TINT BUTTER COLOR. We are told that the truth will out —and it seems to be eveflastingly out of some people. as 4 dm sure Piso’s Cure for Consumption suvea my life three years ago.—Mrr. Thos. Ropains, Maple Street, Norwich. N. Y., Feb. 17, 1900, Never look a clotheshorse in the mouth. Just what it was 25 years ago, St. Jacobs Oil is now. \ The prompt, sure cure for é SORENESS AND STIFFNESS Price, 25c. and 50c. a