Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 22, 1906, Page 6

3 090009095000 06009000000000) CHAPTER XXVIII.—(Continued.) There was no need to call on him to acknowledge it. His colorless face, his frightened eyes, his’ wild glance ab him all betrayed his guilt. No ho saw him stand there could doubted that he understood her, d that he knew that she held in her nd the secret he thought was only ’ he stammered; then he ack his head with a gesture so like Noel's when he was indignant that it took away her breath. “I don’t at call you have to ask me know w he muttered. “I’m not swer them.” “No, you are not bound; but you will, Baverstock. Because an innocent man is su now, and he is un- suf ng. Because you are the person on earth who can clear nd but for you he may never be 1aven’t any call to trouble about 2 It isn’t any business of mine. t him get himself out of the scrape, I t done it. He must be a fool he can “He can’t; no one will believe him, one but I. I know, Baverstock, you ll not let him be disgraced and ed when a word from you would him right in the eyes of all the ld, when yeu are the only one who do it.” What should I meddle in it for? I've had hard enough kicks as it is. le 1 look after his own skin—it don’t concern me. He is nothing to ar me.” » is tome!” In the eagerness pleading she forgot how poor was the plea. If the saving of a fel- 2iure from the shame he had brought on him could not move him, surely itswould not melt his rt to have a girl plead for her theart. Yet she needs must ad with some weapon for moving his pity; could not let this gne she It was a sound like a groan, deep drawing of a painful She thought he was touched, > pr ed up her advantage “Yes, it is more than all the to me that he should be cleared e that has ruined him. now—you know; for I took you im that night.” Was he recalling the touch » brown head against his strange, wild thrill strained her to his ? Again he made no answer but n that was like a note of lent moonlight. He stood ce a figure earved in Silence srstock, perhaps there is some you care for—think if she were in ce. Think if she begged for ke as I am begging, and the one n in the world who could help her ed his help! Think what you would do for her if you were in his place, and do it for me for the sake of her. Tell me the truth—tell me the rea] truth—about that night in Ports- mouth. I will bless you as long as I live, and love that girl for your sake.” A sound that was like a choke in his throat. She could not guess what brought it, as she stood there in her white dinner frock, pure and silver- shining against the dark garden be- hind. “Once I begged for you, out: in India,” she went on, very low, and shamedly. “Must I beg now of you, Baverstock, and still you will not an- swer m Then at last he spoke, and his voice came like one who has stood all that he can stand. “That’s enough—l'll tell you—though it may be my own death!” CHAPTER XXIX. Confession. I'll tell you,” repeated Baver- , vehemently, to the excited Ur- “I never thought any one would got it out of me. They made It was a chap that knew some- thing against me. He’d have given me up to swing for it if I handn’t obeyed him. I had to put on a cap- tain’s uniform. They took me to the big house looking over the sea to do it. I waited in a room for ever so long. It have me. t night. “Then the man came in with a bunch of keys in his hand, and he told me what I had to do. I had to go to Government House—they took and showed me—and go in past the por- ter’s lodge and the orderly at the door. I was to walk in as if the place be- Jonged to me, and it would be all right. They gave me a plan of the house, and I was to go straight to the room where a safe was and look for papers, and bring away the ones they told me about. “I didn’t like the job. I was afraid of being found out. It was a risky thing. But there was no help for it. I couldn’t get into worse trouble than I was already, and I might get free. It was a near thing I didn’t forget when the sentry saluted, and it was rum enough to pass in like a swell. The rest was easy—there wasn’t a soul was Captain’s Double By LILLIAS CAMPBELL DAVIDSON right enough; I couldn’t mistake them after what they’a told me. But then you came.” “Yes; then I came.” Ursula’s compelling eye had been upon him, seemingly to draw the words from him in spite of himself. It was strange what an influence it had —it was as if he could not disobey. He shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, and sighed again. He raised his hat from his forehead to let the night air cool it. He was more like Noel than ever—more uncannily like —when she saw the whole of his face. “IT thought I was caught—and then I knowed you. I saw you one night in Hayzerabad. I guessed you took me for the chap I was playing the part of —and then—and then—I nearly threw it all up. If I’d known you were in it,” awkwardly, and with a break in his low voice, “I wouldn’t have done it— no matter what happened. It was like a ghost to see you there. I was fright- ened. But I just kept sense enough to get off.” , He raised his broad hat again, and shoved it farther back on his head. His hands were full in the bright moonlight, and her glance rested on them with a thrill. They were the hands she had known could not belong to Noel—a poor man’s hands, toil- stained, and out of shape and rough. Oh! if some one else were there to hear it—her father—any witness, to listen while Noel’s innocence was proved! “And the papers?” she breathed, hardly knowing what she was saying. “What did you do with them?” “They took them; then I made off from Portsmouth as fast as my legs could carry me. I got to Southampton and took a Cape boat next day. I'll never set foot in the old country again, if I know it. I’ve a_ sight better chance out here.” “You are fighting in one of the po: lice forces?” He gave a short and bitter laugh. “No fear! I’ve had enough of that sort! I don’t feel very keen on serv- ing the queen.!” “Then, oh! since you have told me all this, you will clear Captain Win- stanley? You know he was suspected, he could not clear himself, he has been ruined, and it was not his fault—not any more than that of the most inno- cent child in this colony. He was made the scapegoat! It would give back life to him almost, if he could prove what you have just told me. Let me bring some one from the house to hear you say it again—it may not con- vince any one if I tell the story alone.” “Not exactly.” He shook his head with another bitter laugh. “I don’t mean to be such a fool as to give my- self away, just for another chap. Why should I? Nobody ever did me a good turn, not as long as I can remember.” Then a sudden softening camie over his hardness, and he hesitated. “No- body, only you.” “And if I ask you now to do some- thing which will be far more good to me than if you were to save my life— if I ask you to do this thing for my sake—will you refuse me, Baverstock? I am going to be Captain Winstanley’s wife: ” Did he make that sudden step forward to interrupt her? She half went on again. “I shall be un- happy all my life—horribly unhappy and miserable—until his name is cleared. If you will let it be known it will give me back the man I love—the only thing in the world I want to make me happy. Won't you do it, Baver- stock?” She hardly knew what words she used in her pleading, she was in such earnest—such deadly earnest; all her hopes seemed to hang on her power to touch his heart. If he went away now and would not atone, what better was it for Noel? Could she make any- one believe this wild tale of the night? He was silent. The stillness about them seemed to stir with faint whis- pers, the shadows were dim and mys- terious. She held her breath, for the beating of her own heart seemed to choke her, and she was straining with suspense. If he would not, what could she say to urge him? Noel’s whole life was in the balance, trem- bling. Then he turned his face toward her, and she saw a new look in it. Some- thing had dawned there that brought a strange nobility, a beauty such as the handsome, sullen features had nev- er worn before. “If it’s for you, I'll do whatever you want,” he said, half inaudibly, but she caught the words. “I can't say ‘No’ to you. What am Ito do? I'll do it— I can’t help myself!” “Go and find Captain Winstanley. Tell him what you have told me. Or write it, and give it to him with your name signed to it — that will be enough. He will never use it to injure you, only to clear himself. It is just and right that he should do that, for he is innocent.” “Where is he, then?” “Up at Colenso, or somewhere there. He was going to try to get dispatches through the enemy’s lines.” Baverstock whistled softly. That was his game? It was one not un- known on his own part. He had said there was no fear that he should serve gbout the place, and I found the papers} the queen again; it was true, for he had taken the other side. Wynberg just then he would have found it hard to answer. The word to use would have had an ugly look, “T'll be up that way, likely, before long. If I come across him—but per- haps I sha’n’t.” He hesitated. can’t give me anything to show as you sent me? Perhaps he won’t believe without.” There was a little gold heart with a pearl setting hanging from a slender golden chain round Ursula’s neck. Noel knew it well; she had worn it ever since she knew him. She drew the chain from her shoulders now, and took the heart from the clasp where it swung. “Show him this and he will know,” she said. “Tell him I sent it, and he will understand.” Baverstock took the tiny trinket with something that was like diffi- dence. He slipped it into the little wash-leather bag of money he wore in- side his shirt. “That’s all, then?” “Yes, except you'll be as quick as you can, won't you?” He did not seem to hear. He was standing gazing intently at her, as the moonlight flooded her with its pure beams. Was it she alone he saw there, or what might have been? Did the vision rise before him of what a happier lot than his could have held? She loved the man who was so like him that she herself had barely known the differ- ence. Might she not have loved him- self if he had had his chance? It was the very trick of fate to make him the copy of a gentleman, and then turn him into a thing she shrank from and slighted, while the other had her love. Yet he had held her in his arms for one brief moment, as if she had been his own. He had felt the touch of soft hair against his shoulder, and the beat- ing of her heart close against his breast. What ever came to him in the wretched remnant of a spoilt and battered life, he would have the mem- ory of that left. He stood staring at her till she grew uneasy under his strange look. What did it mean, that fixed gaze, like the stare of a sleepwalker — or a man whose mind is a hundred miles away? Then he roused himself with a sudden shake, as if he pulled his senses to- gether—and he drew a _ long, long breath. “Td better go.” He came a sudden step nearer. “Good-bye. You—you wouldn’t shake hands with me, I sup- pose?” The strange request half startled her, but she did not hesitate, nor let him see any surprise in her manner. “Of course I will! Why not?” she said, simply enough. She put out to him the hand that looked so white and small in the silver moonlight; and he seized it in a hurried, eager clasp. The eagerness of his touch almost startled her, but she let her fingers stay in his grasp. One long, long pressure—a grip that made her wince with pain. Then he let, it drop so suddenly that it was al- most as if he flung it from him. He turned on his heel, and strode away without another word. She stood look- ing after him with a troubled and anx- ious gaze as he vanished once more into the shadows that blocked the road. He fell into stealth and silence; she could hear the ring of his footsteps subdue themselves into hushed cau- tion, like those with which he had ap- proached. There was something eerie about it—like the goings of a vision. She could hardly believe it had been real: that she had stood and talked with him a moment ago, on that empty spot. (To Be Continued.) A PARENTAL PURSUIT. Papa Makes an Early Morning Attack on the Milkman. It was a warm, sulty night. Henrietta and her beau were on the front piazza. The grandfather’s clock in the broad hallway struck 10. “Henrietta,” grumbled her papa, taking her aside and whispered confi- dentially, “I warn you not to keep that young man on the stoop too late.” Then the old folk retired. The grandfather’s clock in the broad hallway struck 3. “John,” softly said an anxious, motherly voice, “it’s 3 o’clock; I hear some one on the porch, I’m afraid Henrietta hasn’t come up stairs yet.” The irate father waited to hear no more. Slipping into enough clothes to make himself look respectable he made his way cautiously down stairs, opened the front door quietly and was just in time to see a dark masculine for mgoing down the door stoop. Sneaking forward, the parental foot, hid withjn a heavy leather boot, shot forward and sent the retreating figure through the balmy atmosphere and up against the prickly rosebush. There was a frightful rattling of tin cans, which awakened the whole household and brought Henrietta from her little bedroom. “Oh, father!” she screamed, “what have you done; what have you done?” “T've taught that young scamp of yourn that this ain’t a nocturnal camp. I jest caught him sneakin’ away ae “My young man,” shrieked the daughter; “why, father, he went home three hours ago—and—you’ve— kicked—our—milkman—o—the— front stoop!”—New York Press. Check! A certain young clergyman, who had not been a notable success, as- sured his hishop, nevertheless, that he was certain he had heard a call to the ministry. : “Brother,” replied the bishop, “don’t you think that it was perhaps some other sound you heard?” Tf it had been asked what he was doing at “You Prominent in the Public Eye. " QUEEN OF ROUMANIA (Carmen Syiva.) Author who has acquired a country house in beautiful Connemara, Ireland, where she intends to write an Irish novel. SARAH BERNHARDT, French actress who says she will be on stage at age of 70 years. Sarah Bernhardt says Patti is fool- ish to retire if she can sing at all. “This retiring business makes me tired,” Mme. Bernhardt said. “Mms. Patti is not old unless she is seventy, and I do not think she is that old yet. (She was born in 1843.) “I do not mean to retire even when I am seventy y2ars old if I am still able to act. There is no reason why I should. I am stronger to-day than I ever was, and I have five new plays to bring out this season, including one written by myself which I have named ‘Adrienne Lecouvreur,’ which treats of the heroine in an original manner.” THEODORE STENSLAND, Son of Chicago banker. It was to save this son from prison that the father gave himself up to Chicago officials at Tangier. PRESIDENT PALMA OF CUBA. BOOM IN ATHLETICS. It was learned yesterday, says the New York Tribune, that, in addition to the stringent rules recommended by the faculty of Columbia university for the government of Athletics, they pro- pose to make an innovation by plac- ing athletics on much the same basis as academic work. The plan is that, if a man enters into any branch of athletics and at- tains a proficiency therein, credit shall be given him for the work, which will count toward the acquirement of the bachelor’s degree. The plan is in force to a limited extent now, as no student can graduate from the college or schools of applied science until he has satisfactorily completed a two-year course in the gymnasium and passed an examination, The faculty now proposes to extend this system to include such sports as lawn tennis, handball, baseball and Rugby football. If a man goes into any one sport and by continual prac- tice shows improvement at the end of the year he will receive a certain credit for the work done. Good-Bye to the Hello Girl. August A. Moason of Minneapolis, while yet a comparatively young man, has suceeeded in inventing a simple, scientific, automatic switshboard and telephone, so that towns which here- tofore could not afford to put in a telephone system because of the main- tenance expense, can now put in a system eliminating the “hello girl” and other expenses connected with running a central office. Oe eee 000000000 rrr” KILLED BY CAPSTAN SWEEP. Employe . of Ditching Contractors Meets Accidental Death. Crookston, Minn., Sept. 18—An- drew Olson, an employe of Castle Bros., was instantly killed while work- ing on one of their ditching contraccs near Ada. A man was walking behind the sweep of a capstan to which four horses were attachec when the sweep suddenly brc#e, and flying back with terrific force struck Olson in the head, killing him instantly. - REV. HAYES 1S ORDAINED. Former St. Paul Lawyer Formallly In- ducted Into the Priesthood. Northfield, Minn., Sept. 17.—Rev. S Mills Hayes, formerly a lawyer of St. Paul, who has pursued studies in the Seabury divinity school at Faribault, was ordained to the priesthood on Sat- urday morning by Bishop Edsall. The sermon by Dean Slattery of Faribault was a strong appeal for faith in the historic continuity of the priesthood and in the present living Christ. The Age of Machinery. We live in the age of machinery. : The thinking, directing mind becomes daily of more account, while mere brawn falls correspondingly in value from day to day. That eccentric phil- osopher, Elbert Hubbard, says in one of his essays, “where a machine will do better, work than the human hand, we prefer to let the machine do the work.” It has been but a few years since the cotton gin, the “spinning Jenny” and the power loom displaced the hand picker, the spinning wheel and the hand loom; since the reaper and binder, the rake and tedder, the mow- ing machine took the place of the old cradle, scythe, pitchfork and hand rake; since the friction match su- perseded the flint and tinder; since the modern paint factory replaced the slab and muller, the paint pot and paddle. In every case where machinery has been introduced to replace hand labor, the laborers have resisted the change; and as the weavers, the sempstresses and the farm laborers protested against new-fangled looms, sewing ma- chines and agricultural implements, so in recent times compositors have protested against type-setting ma- chines, glass blowers against bottle blowing machines, and painters against ready mixed paints. And as in the case of these short-sighted classes of an earlier day, so with their imitators of to-day, the protest will be in vain. It is a protest against civ- ilization, against the common weal, against their own welfare. The history of all mechanical im- provements shows that workmen are the first to *be benefited by them. The invention of the sewing machine, instead of throwing thousands of wom- en out of employment, increased the demand to such an extent that thou- sands of women have been employed, at better wages, for shorter hours and easier work where hundreds before worked in laborious misery to eke out a pitiable existence. It was so with spinning and weaving machin- ery, With agricultural implements—in fact, it is so with every notable im- provement. The multiplication of books in the last decade is a direct result of the invention of linotype machinery and fast presses. The mixed paint industry, in which carefully designed paints for house painting are prepared on a large scale by special machinery, is another im- provement of the same type. The cheapness and general excellence of these products has so stimulated the consumption of paint that the de mand for the services of painters has correspondi y multiplied Before the advent of these good ell-paint- ed house was noticeable from its rarity, whereas to-day an ill-painted house is conspicuous. Nevertheless, the painters, as a rule, following the example set by the weavers, the sempstresses and the ‘farm laborers of old, almost to a man, ‘oppose the improvement. It is a real improvement, however, and simply be- cause of that fact the sale of such products has increased until during the present year it will fall not far Short of 90,000,000 or 100,000,000 gal- lons. Hindsight is always better than foresight, and most of us who deplore the short-sightedness of our ancestors would do well to see that we do not in turn furnish “terrible examples” to our posterity. Looking Forward. “Was your husband killed in the Subway crush?” asked the woman in violet crepe. 0, he perished in the ‘Seeing New York Auto’ accident.” “How odd. I lost mine during a trolley crash at the bridge.” “And your son?” “In the elevator accident.” “And your daughter?” “Died from heart failure after a bargain hunt.” No, this is not a conversation in a play, it is merely some of the small talk overheard at an afternoon tea in the year 2000. And yet we continue to go the pace. AWFUL PSORIASIS 35 YEARS. Terrible Scaly Humor in Patches All Over the Body—Skin Cracked and Bleeding—Cured by Cuticura. “I was afflicted with psoriasis for thirty-five years. It was in patches all over my body. I used three cakes of Cuticura Soap, six boxes of Oint- meny and two bottles of Resolvent.: In thirty days I was completely cured, and I think permanently, as it was about five years ago. The psoriasis first made its appearance in red spots, generally forming a circle, leaving in the center a spot about the size of a silver dollar of sound flesh. In a short time the affected circle would form a heavy dry scale of a white silvery appearance and would gradually drop off. ‘To remove the entire scales by bathing or using oil to soften them the flesh would be perfectly raw, and a light discharge of bloody substance would o00zo out. That caly crust would form again in twenty-four hours. It was worse on my arms and limbs, although it was in spots ai) over my body, also on my scalp» If I let the seales remain too long with- out removing by bath or otherwise, the skin would crack and bleed. I suffered intense itching, worse at nights after getting warm in bed, or blood warm by exercise, when it would be almost unbearable. W. M. Chidester, Hutchinson, Kan., April 20, 1905.” Eouatorial Football. Tke football mania is still upon us to the exclusion of almost all other games, with the exception of golf and a little tennis. In the football league centest there are nine teams playing.