Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, March 22, 1903, Page 17

e ————— | emwesems s s 16 THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: SUNDAY, MARCH 22, 1903 FLOWER O' THE CORN, By 5. R. CROCKETT. SHerS (Copyright, 1002, by 8. B. Crockett) CHAPTER XIII Certaln Spokes in Certain Wheeln. It was not at the moment a matter of supreme personal Importance to Flower- ©o'-the-Corn whether or not the Camisards of La Cavelerie were or were not enter- taining a traitor unawares. But that which disturbed Flower-o'-the- Corn was the knowledge that her father, the chaplain of Ardmillan's regiment, & British officer according to military rat- ing, should be in this place, disguised, and under conditions which she could not help but recognize would bring him to the gal- lows if discovered, while at the same time she had been the means of Introducing among the Camisards one who might prove to be a French spy The girls were now seated In Yvetto's chamber, which was pleasantly situated on the third or highest story of the Templar's houee, the village spread out far helow like a collection of beehives. “And why,” sald Flower-o'-the-Corn to Yvette, “if this man is really a spy of the enemy, do you not denounce him to your tather? Or, better still, to General Ca- valier?" Yvette Foy looked straightly at her new triend like one who in all her life has had nothing to conceal. “That were indeed easy,” she sald, calmly, “but first a French officer is a gentleman. 1 have no desire to see him torn limb from limb by a howling rabble, as he would be if anything of what we know appeared. And, secondly, he and his people are lodging in this house, so that T can have them constantly under observation.” “But General Cavaller—my father—the other Protestant leaders?” urged Frances Wellwood. “They are constantly walking about and talking with this youpg man.” “As to General Cavaller, as you call him,” sald Yvette, with supreme contempt, “the apprentice baker can &ttend to his own affairs. 1 am not his nursemaid, and for your father, my dear, have no fear for him! The Camlisards will listen to his preachings, but will tell him nothing-not 1t he were to remain here a hundred years! Do not be afraid of him. Just because he i the one true prophet among the many false, God will send his angels to watch over him!" Yvette lifted up her beautiful she spoke. Flower-o'-the-Corn rose impulsively and threw her arms about her new friend's neck. “Oh, 1 shall love you dearly, I know!" she cried, with a kind of sob. “I have been so lonely here—a girl with no one tg speak to—except my father.” It was no wonder that the apparent ad- vantages were all on the side of the daugh- ter of Martin Foy, nor that when she bhad undertaken the education of her junior, the very simplicity and directness of Frances made her like wax in the hands of her self- constituted guardian and tutoress. ““What would you have me do?' said Frances meekly to Yvette Foy, “if I am not to inform my fathen that there may be a traitor in the camp?” “We do not know all,” sald Yvette, in a low tone, “who are we, you and I? Two girls who have no experience of treaties and embassies or of the hither and thither of politics. What have we seen? Only a suit of foreign regimentals, which, it we charge the man with the posse: n of, he will doubtless say that he obtained them in order to further his progress hither! In the meantime, what you have to do is simply to steer clear of this young man with the superabundant changes of raiment. For the sake of your father's life, if not your own, do not be so unwise as to have any lings with him! 'hat s, at least a prescription easy to follow,” laughed Frances frankly and read- 1ly, “for indeed and indeed I do not care if 1 never saw him again!" At this Yvette kissed her friend, mur- muring vague girlish tenderness. Then she gently disengaged herself and walked to the window. Far down, at the entrance of a certain dark entry stood a cloaked figure, the same whom she had m in the church as she passed out during sermon time. Yvette Foy smiled bitterly to herself. “Ah, you there still, my good wagone she muttered, “‘well, at some trouble and expense to myself I have succeeded in put- ting a somewhat considerable spoke in your wheel, Master Plerre Dubois of Roche- a’-Bayard and Hoo!" Pretty it was to listen to the give and take of confidence between them—espe- clally the give. For while Yvette sald little, this our dove of a Frances, ex- cited and rejoiced to have one of her own age and sex to confide in, told out all that was within ber heart with the sweetest and delicatest blushings in the world. And it was a tale to strike her listener with envy. For though it dealt only with the (nmocentest and slightest girlish ad- mirations, likings, preference, what oppor- tunities did Yvette, the experienced, not discorn? What glimpses of a world of men in rapld and brilliant action, of the glane- of golden epaulets, the glittering of lace, the clinking of spurs, the hither and thither of the officers of a hundred regl- ments and half a dozen services. And this girl had walked through it all like one In & dream! A handsome young alde-da-camp of a commander-in-chief had esnfronted her among the Brabant wheat— Apart—with admiration radiant in his eyes, and she (Flower-o'-the-Corn) had ridden off with a simple riant word upon a bor- rowed horse. Yvette Foy had to bite her nether lip to keep in the words of contempt. And meanwhile, Flower-o'-the-Corn prat- tled on rdless of all. “Yes,” she sald, “it stays In my mind that he admired me! I do not know why— but be did. Men do those things. But somehow—somehow, though others have looked like that at me—there was some- thing about bim, perhaps his puzzled air as I rode away (I could laugh at it then) that—that—well, it made me think of him afterward. Of gourse, I shall never see him eyes as again. Yes, T knew his name. He was well known about the camp of Namur, being | secretary to my Lord Marlborough—" { “Well, his name—what was {t?" de. | manded Yvette, who in a love affair lked | to get to the root of the matter quickly. | “His name was—that is, he was called, #0 they told me (for indeed I never spoke to him again) Captain Maurice Raith of his excellency's stafl.”” “He was handsome?" “Of & handsomeness—yes!" said Flower- | o'-the-Corn, curling her lip with an elabo- ration of carelessness. “A-h-h!" said Yvette, very softly to her- | self, “he was handsome, was he—o! his | excellency's stafi? His name, Captain Maurice Raith. Ah, captain—my retty captain If T do not hold you now in the | hollow of my hand—crack thy whip, good | master wagoner! For, If so it prove, the thing that I desire is mine own already, or 1 chall know the reason why!" . . . . . . . . The defences of the village were now ap- proaching a state of completion. La Cavaller was now the chiefest and the safest of all the strengths of the Camisards. But already victual and forage were at a perilously low ebb in case of a sudden at- tack. A foray was necessary. The point ot attack and the leader must be decided upon. As to the latter there could be little question. The Camisards would follow Jean Cavalier, and no other man, so long as ho remained among them. Had he not been uniformly successful? Was his name not a bugbear and terror from Nantsur-Dourble to the Pont-du-Guarde Beaucalre? Rolard —Catinat—Castinet—these were good men and true prophets, but no one of them ap- proached Jean Cavaller in the power over men which makes command easy and mat- ural. Furthermore, the Lord was evidently with him. He prophesied but seldom, but when he did the thing bappened. Not once nor twice was it so, but always. Which repute naturally made him careful of his words, and a judicious silence passed equally for wisdom. As for Plerre the wagoner, he found it somewhat dificult to put in the hours of his stay at La Cavalerfe. He watched every movement of Flower-o'the-Corn. He saw her convoy her father out in the morn- ing, and, wrapping his cloak about him, was at the door of the little temple before her. But Frances was leaning upon Pat- rick Wellwood's arm, and looking up in his face. But neither his presence nor the di- rection of his eyes escaped the notice of the Demotselle Yvette Foy who made her en- trance a little later., When Frances came out, it was with grinding of teeth that Plerre the wagoner watched her leave her father's arm to en- counter Yvette, and noted the increasing friendliness of the two girls which (when one thinks of it) was after all the most natural thing in the world. Maurice continued to pace the narrow, malodorous streets, till he was foot-sore. Also he had strained his neck, craning it upward to look Into the windows of the auberge. From a topmost tower window of the Templar's house a pretty, spiteful face re- garded him as he stood grinding the inno- cent paving stones beneath his heels and chewing the bitter cud of his disappoint- ment. “Ah,"” murmured the volce, with a low, soft thrill of scorn, “Flower-o'-the-Corn, did you call her? A pretty mald—a pretty name—by my faith both fulsome and pretty. But such flowers are not for you, my wag- oner gentleman! Thistles—plain thistles shall be your diet. Plain, green, purple- topped thistles with ragged leaves, cropped on an empty belly by the roadside, your long ears flap-flapping in the wind that frets every ass on the common and every Tom-fool on the earth they call God's! Such, {f Yvette Foy can arrange it, shall 'be your portion!” CHAPTER XIV. The Maison Rouge. Yet it chanced that Mistress Yvette, hav- ing seen her visitor almost within reach of home, and knowing in addition that about that hour her father's lodger must be be- taking himself to keep his appointment with Jean Cavalier, a wholly unexpected and unauthorized interview took place in the doorway of the westermost tower by the Templar's Gate of La Cavalerle. Frances Wellwood was hurrying home, | It was already late in the autumnal after- noon. Her father would be there waiting for the cup ot tea which only she could i brew for him, or (more llkely) having waited in vain, he would be gone out to complete is surfeit of good works," as she irreverently called his rounds of ex- bortation and visitations among the poor of La Cavalerie. Suddenly Plerre the wagoner stood before her. He appeared cloaked and hatted from the dark of the entry. With a certain for- getfulness of his assumed position he held out his hand to Flower-o'-the-Corn frankly and freely as one of her own nation might have done, “l bave again to thank you for saving my life,” he said. “I did not vemture to trouble you yesterday morning with a for- mal visit, because I saw you had other mat- ters to occupy you. But mow I do! The preservation of my life may not be much to be thankful for. It is of small value to anyone but myself, but such as it is I am no way likely to have another and am grateful to you for saving the one I have. I know—there is something stupid in the uttering of such things, but briefly if there is anything in your life in which a man can help you, think of Pierre the wagoner!" “I thank you,” sald Flower-o'-the-Corn coldly, “‘but in case of need to which camp shall I send my messenger?” She was thinking of the suit of French clothes wrapped up by his servant so care- tully in their coverings of rough matting. For a reason at which she ‘could not even guess, the young man wae overwhelmed with confusion. “To which camp? Your messenger?’ he Married Women Every woman covets a shapely, pretty figure, and many of them deplore the loss of *heir girlish forms after marriage. The bearing of children is often destructive to the mother's shapeliness. All of this can be avoided, however.. by the use of Mother's Friend before baby comes, as this great liniment ‘always prepares the body for the strain upon it, and preserves the symmetry of her form. Mother’s Friend overcomes all the danger of child-birth, and carries the expectant mother safely through this critical period without pain. Thousands gratefully tell of the ase of this wonderful remedy. Sold by all dmgf: ts at $1.00 per bott OQur little book, telling all about this liniment, will be sent free. The Bratfieid Regulater Ca., Atiaata, 8a. It is woman's greatest blessing. benefit and relief derived from the Mother’s Friend queried, faltering and changing color he spoke. “Yes,” she continued, smiling upon him with intent, “did T not understand you to offer me such help as a man who means it may honcetly give a woman who needs it?" “Indeed, 1 said so, and I meant it!" he reiterated, thrusting his hand out with quick spontaneous action, But Flower-o'-the-Corn withheld hers as if she had not seen. “It 1s graclous of you,” she said, stiffly, and with a cold feeling about her face, “‘but that whizh I did for you I would have done for your carter lad. And, indeed, I see not what you can ever do for me, unless—(a spice of malice, perhaps transmitted from Yvette Foy, shot athwart her speech) unless perchance I should happen to have some goods to transport betwixt the towns of Roche-a-Bayard and Hoo!" Maurice stood cold stricken, faint, not knowing what to make of the girl's knowl- edge. Was it Information or a guess? Clearly, at least, she did not believe that he was the wagoner he had given himself out to be. “Madame,” he replied, nevertheless, for he had sufficient professional readiness not to be taken wholly at a short, “if it should ever be my good fortune to return to my native land, be assured that I shall be hon- ored to do your behests, not only between Roche-a-Bayard and Hoo, but also between Hoo and Roche-a-Bayard—and to the world's end!" He lifted his hat loftily, with a carriage and air that of a certainty were never those of Plerre Dubois. He would have gone out straightway, but something In the girl's manner held him back. “Stay!” she said, and hesitated for a word, “I do not wish to let you go, bellev- Ing that a man like you is a traitor and a scoundrel. Are you, or are you not the man you seem?"’ The color went wholly out of the young man’s face, The girl was right. He was not the thing he seemed. Yet he had no reason for admitting her to his confidence (which was now also Jean Cavaller's con- fidence). The time had not arrived, and as things etood the delay might be fatal to him. . Flower-o'-the-Corn waited while one might have counted a score for him to speak; then she heaved the least little sigh, inaudible save to the recorder of such like crisis and cataclysms. “It is enough,” she said, “same from your own silence, I would not have believed it. Now I know! Let me pass!” . And without a smile or the least glance of tarewell Frances Wellwood passed up the tavern stone stairs, with some of the grim determination of her covenanting father on her face. Then there came a sudden resolution into the breast of Maurice Raith. He had been enough tossed hither and thither, enough flouted and held at naught by this girl and that. He was sick of it. The memory ol it bit like the gnawing gangrene of an old ‘wound, restlesely, sleeplessly at his heart. He would not longer submit to it. He would follow the girl and clear himself in her eyes. He turned at the word and went up the stairs of the tower chamber three at a time. But he had waited over long in thought. The quick light footsteps fled higher and higher. A heavy door clanged, almost in his face. He bit his lip and in his turn rapped loudly on the door. Maurice Raith had little enough idea what he would ask for when the door opened. He was only acutely conscious that no longer would he, the sometime alde and confidential messen- ger of my Lord Marlborough, be made a clown and a laughingstock of by this girl and that, The door swung back on mighiy binges. Maurice found himself fronted by the tall, majestic presence of the late chaplain of Ardmillan’s regiment, who held out his hand and greeted him affectionately. “Ah!" he exclaimed, before the young man had time to speak, ou have come to consult me. If you have brought to these poor folk of the Cevennes sharp swords and the armament of war may chance that we will give you in return bread to eat— yea, bread that the world wotteth not of. Come thy ways in, lad.” And Maurice went in very gladly. For he thought within him that he would see Frances. But that wise maid, much alive to his intent, only listened without the door to his converse with her father, which, to do Patrick Wellwood justice, was of the gravest sort, and continued with increasing unwillingness on Maurice Raith's part. “Think, it no, sir,” sald the old man, and she could see' the movement of his fore- finger, “that by the best deeds In the world you can win one atom of favor in the next world"— “Right happy stculd I be,” sald the young man, soberly smiling in his host's face, “it my good deeds could win me ome or two things that I desire In this under world.” “Ah, yes,” sald the old pastor, shaking his white locks not intolerently, “‘the favor of some maiden or the like far in the ndrth. Have I also not been young? And do not 1 know the hearts of the young?" There was a clang without, the patter of and then a rustle. said the old man, with a keen pleasure on his face, “Jean Cavaller, who is to m the son of mine old age!" Then rage and mortification took hold of Maurice Raith. Had he not heard and in- terpreted—that is, misinterpreted too keen on eircumstantial evidence us do. It was not the patter of Flower-o'the- Corn's little feet to the outer door to which he had listened. It was not the whispered colloquy of lovers, standing a moment be- hind it, intent upon each other after it had been closed with care, that made the little walting hush. What Maurice Raith actually heard in the little tower over the western gate in the village of La Cavalerie was the hurried rush of a certaln young woman, not alto- gether superior to the weaknesses of her sex, to the door of the turret chamber which held her bed room, her pause for breath in the safe darkness of the stairway, and then the further waiting, Singer on lip for the entrance of the visitor. A day or two before Jean Cavalier might also have had his illusions. But mew his mind was busy with other things. He en- tered briskly, according to his custom, bumming a cheerful psalm. The old man took his hand and led him within, where, on the great oak settee he took his seat with the aplomb and urance of a favorite son of the house. Maurice Raith could scarcely contain him- self for anger. He it was who had seen her first. She was of his pation, of his religion, of his kin almost Were not Scots In the armies of t low countries #s brothers and sisters® But his last was an argument which for the time being be could not advance. What bad Plerre the wagoner to do with Ard- millan's regiment or the Scots Duteh who had stood by Willlam at Steinkirk? “This is the young man from our breth- ren in the north,’ sald the old man; “he who brought us the weapons of war and the tidings of good cheer. And, with his continual bright smile Jean Cavalier held out his hand. There was something Invineibly winning about the young man—perbaps even more for men than women. Though, indeed, thinking himself secure from the influence of women, he was really weakest on their side. So he sat there securly counting, even Flo' o'-the-Corn, but a little maid by the wayside, t0 be wsmiled upon as he should pass by. And without the least thought of Maurice or what might be his feelings on the subject. The young man ground bis teeth and muttered bitterly of inconstancy of Wwomen--concerning which, the present occasion, he had not the slightest right to make remarks. But Maurice Raith had suddenly grown 80 flercely jealous that had an angel from heaven come down to appease him he would have turned upon the intruder with the remark that he for one knew better and Wwas not to be hoodwinked. “Ah, Dubols,” sald the young man, care- lessly, “you here, are you? For my part, 1 came in only to pt the time till you were due to arrive at my rooms on the other side of the tower gatewa. “Aye,” sald Maurice, flercely, “so much was in my own thoughts also! Cavaller glanced momentarily across at the Scot, but, though conscious that he was in some degree ruffied, the young rd never for a moment suppoded | any connection between his agitation and himself, continulng sweetly and caimly his talk with the old pastor, “'Presently, then; presently,” he said, nodding and smiling to Maurice with such unconsclous graclousness of charm that Maurice, if he had not heard the light flying footsteps and diagnosed (how wrong- fully we know) the hushful pausg could bave found it in his heart to forgive him. it was he only sat sulky, fingering his bat and wishing himselt qut of it. But there was no undue haste about Jean Cavaller. “No wonder,” thought the s picious Maurice; “in a little while he will make his excuse to go, and there in the dim-1it passage—at the stairhead, in the obscure of the landing, she will meet him— I know the ways of such"—(he did not say how he knew nor yet how his knowledge gave him the right of criticism upon others, even should his diagnosis be correct). He woke to find himselt being addressed by the old pastor. The chaplain of Ard- millan’s regiment had a bottle of wine in his d and his tone was that of apology. “Water, as I remember,” sald he, ‘‘was made sometime before wine, yet I know not how long; and if it be the pleasure or necessity of you two young men that you should go forth into the night, let it not be said that you went without such hospitality might be shown you by Patrick Well- wood. I have called my daughter, but I fear that deep sleep hath fallen upon her young eyelids, inasmuch as she hath not answered. So I must e'en be mine own drawer and setter out of drink and victuals!" And with that the minister betook him- self with a grave and sultable dignity to the corner cupboard, whence he was bringing out the silver trays and glasses, wiping them with a clean white napkin and set- ting them in order, when aroused by the unwonted clinking and perhaps with an ear attuned to what was going on underneath, Flower-o'-the-Corn came swiftly clattering down the stairs, with the sharp clacking noise which her heels always made upon the stone stairs, and as is indeed cus- tomary with malds of quick, nervous tem- per when they are in haste. She burst in upon them without warning, all at gaze open-mouthed upon her, her father with the uncorked bottle in his hand. “Fathe: she cried. 'O, how wicked you can be! Did I not tell you that you were never—never to touch those glasses. You known that the last time you broke four- besides those which rolled upon the floor. And at the rebuke her father hung his head shamefacedly. “'Tis true—'tis but too true. Frances, he sald. “I own it. It was my fault. But indeed I bethought me that you were gone to bed. For I called thrice and you an- swered not!" “I was she began, but did not con- tinue. For it had not come to that of it yet with Frances Wellwood, that she could in anything epeak the thing which was not *to her father. Then the while she sat before the youths the limited and austere hospitality of the Tower on the Wall Patrick Wellwood als- coursed at large upon the virtues of early rising and simplicity. “Young men,” he said, “I beseech you, mortity your members while ye are yet upon the earth. Be ever birds of the morn- ing! Rise and see the sun color the sky ere his bedclothes are well off. Barly ris- ing is good for the grace of God, as it hath been held to be for the cultivation of the muses. Gentlemen, I offer you a little sim- ple country refreshment. It will neither make nor mar you at this time of night. But, as I say, since you afe in haste, drink your draft and be gone, like men who have only so many posts to travel along life's way, and but small time to discount at each one Flower-o'-Corn smiled and flled the glasses to the brim. Then she presented one to Maurice first, as to the greater stranger in the house, and afterward one also to Jean Cavaller, “Do not heed my father,” she sald. “His words a more Inhospitable than his heart. He cares not for anything eave that he may draw a lesson from it."” “‘France Frances,” said her father re- proachfully, “pray have a care. Remember that for every ldle word that man shall speak he shall give an account. And what wilk these young folk think of you and your upbringing. I bid you think shame!" Yet it was evident enough what onme at least of these young folk thought. For, as for Maurice Raith, he hardly took his eyes oft the sweet, saucy face of Flower-o'-the- Corn, while even the more self-contained prophet, Jean Cavalier, sipped his glass and looked over it at the girl with a marvel- ing alr. | Yet, even as he looked, he silently re- buked Bimself, not knowing how much more deadly was the soare which should one day take him. “The lust of the eye! The lust of the eye!" he murmured. And them in & louder tone: ‘““Well, Master Plerre Dubois, you and I have infinite business together and it is high time that we began it, if we mean to | finish it in time to see the morning sun | shine over the Causse Noir yonder, which, | as our old pastor here fells us, is the| straight way of salvation!"” ““Nay, that " cried Mr. Patrick | Wellwood, heed and smiling, | well enough pleased, “you are as bad Frances, twisting the word of my mouth. | I sald not that to rise early was the way ot ation, but only that, other things | being equal, it may be made ns of | grace, or so at least I have found i “Father,” said ble daughter, meekly, “it as I judge, your only grevious ein, b hitherto I have not dared tell you of t. It keeps you 8o puffed up with seif- righteousness all day that you are per- fectly unapproachable unless one is armed to the teeth! You have no ides,” she added, turning to the young men, “what I have to reckon on with when he takes a turn of getting up before the sun. If I am five minutes after him I am even as A stranger and a castaway.” “It is to me wonderful and miraculous,” sald Patrick Wellwood, weightily, “that 1 should have begot and reared a girl like this, who will thus persist in belylng and misrepresenting the course of my actions to herward. But there Is in my country a good proverb, though (I believe) without scriptural warrant, of the direct sort: ‘Whoso speaketh against father or mother, the corbies shall pyke his eyes out!' ™ “Well, father,” sald the girl. *I must séc that in the original Hebrew before I can accept it And, moreover, it Is true enough about the getting up in the morn- ing. You koow as well as I o that it makes you shamefully upsetting all the da: There is, indeed, no living with him, gen- tlemen, except as the worm may with tha gardener by keeping well out of his way." CHAPTER XV. The Hour Before the Dawn. Seeing that no more was to be gained by remaining in the western gatebouse of the town of La Cavalerie, and that, as the young Camiserd leader bad sald, the time BUSY at BENNETT’S EVERYTHING THAT BRAINS, BRAWN AND MUSCLE CAN DO IS BEING DONE TO HURRY THE GENERAL OPENING OF THE PEOPLE’S FAVORITE SHOPPING PLACE. ALREADY SEVERAL OF THE DEPARTMENTS ARE IN FULL BLAST. THE CLOAK DEPARTMENT HAS BEEN MOVED BACK TO ITS REGULAR SPACE—MORE ROOM HAS BEEN ADDED, NEW WORK ROOMS, NEW FITTING ROOMS AND FURNITURE MAKES IT ONE OF THE HANDSOMEST DEPARTMENTS OF THE KIND IN THE WEST. THE MILLINERY DEPARTMENT IS ALSO READY FOR BUSINESS WITH AN ELEGANT STOCK OF LATEST SPRING STYLES. Specials for Monday in Millinery Dept. Models from the most re- nown foreign and domestic de- signers, as well as hundreds from our own work room, which are equally as pretty, are ready for inspection wheth- er you are ready to buy or not. We only ask for you to come and see them, for styles were never prettier than this season. We will make a specialty of $10 and $12 pattern hats. Three hundred trimmed hats in all the 'w shades and colors in flowers, foli- ages, chiffons and rib bons, at a speclal price 4 98 for Monday . b A special trimmed hat tn black only, that cannot find its equal for style and durability, 2 98 at . b 1.50 .25 20-INCH MERCERIZED VESTINGS — beautiful finish, swell assortment of patterns in all white, hlle_k and white 100 tucked chiffon hats— worth three dollars, Bt iiiiiiies e 100 tucked chiffon rim straw crown, worth $2.25, at and colored effects, all the new weaves, worth up to 76¢c yard, pecial 4t corrercer s DOC Swell new effects in all the popular shades, in all linen volle and etamines, a beautiful quality and very stylish, speclal at, yu‘d......soc 29-INCH PRINTED OXFORD WAIST- INGS—all pretty new patterns, all col- ors, in filgures and stripes worth $20c yard, at .... I4c 32-INCH FINBE IMPORTED ANDERSON- GLASGOW MADRAS—a swell line of patterns and all colors for men's shirts and waists, guaranteed strictly fast colors—worth 85¢ yard, LUNCH CLOTH AND SCARFS-—18-27 hemstitched and drawn work border iinen tray cloth, plain weave ety - o ol | 18-45 SCARFS—hemstitched and drawn border, worth 50c— e ks S $6-30 size Lunch Cloth, worth S e ".45¢ 36-36 size Lunch Cloth ,worth T6e, at, each ....... seesinnencs sgc had come for their departure, Maurice rose, still sulkily, and with the briefest saluta- tion to the pastor and his daughter, made his way directly downstairs, resolved that it there was to be any hole-and-cornering in the lee of opened doors, he would not be the man to spoil sport But, all unconsciously, Cavalier coun- tered him, and with a parting salutation as brief but far more gracious, Intimated that since he had business with this gentleman which would 1n nowlise stand over, it would be convenient for thém to depart forth with. To each of the young men Flower-o'-the. Corn had tendered her hand, with the same swift, upward glance, blue and tender as the drawing of & June day. Perbaps (and it there had been any chronometer beating traction of seconds in the company) it might have been observed that she with- drew her hand a trifie the more quickly trom that of Maurice Raith. From which & man would have deduced one thing and & woman quite apother. The woman, of course, would have been In the right. The two young men sailed out into the night. The keen, silent gratitude of the | overreaching heavens receiving them, and a sharp, effeotual chill of the high vausses in the very bite of the alr. It smeit of snow-—the spow which comes so early up there For In the valley of the Dourble the grapes have not yet done hauging black upon the trellises when the good wives ot La Cavalerie are busily sweeping the white wreathes from their doors. “You have your papers with you sald carelessly, they mounted the the opposite or eastermost tower. “I have!" sald Maurice, briefly, and passed them over intact, still bearing the seals which had been impressed upon them by my Lord Mariborough himesel. The young leader of the Camisards it a lamp, set it on the mantel sbelf, and, lesa- ing his arm carelessly against the stone- set himeelf 10 the documents within. As he did 50 the fashion of his countenance altered. He frowned more and more darkly upon the written page. Ladies’ Spring Jackets “THE NEW MONTE BELLA" JACKET—A beautiful line of imported sample capes—black, oxford, navy, tan and Shepard's plald— At $18.90, $17.90, $15.00, $10.90 and ........ . SILK MONTE CARLO AND COFFEE JACKETS—Made of taffeta 9 90 and peau de soie, at $35, $30, $22.50, $20, $15, $12.75, $11.00 and..... . CLOTH BLOUSES—Made of cheviot, Venetian voflle and broad- cloth—at $20.00, $16.50 and... . 15000 CLOTH MONTE CARLOS—In navy and tan unlined, full sleeves, 45 nicely tatlored, at ............. .7- WALKING SKIRTS—Nicely stitched ..5.95 2.90 habit backs—black, blue WALKING SKIRT—Strapped seams, six rows of stitching at the bottom—black and colors—pric 4o BLACK CHEVIOT DRESS SKIRT—Trimmed in black taffeta —percaline lining—price .... raps BRILLIANT SKIRTS—Latest style, somo are trimmed in taffeta straps spunglass lining—colors, black and blue—prices $6 $5.48 and g VNt e 4048 BAMPLE LINE DRESS SKIRT! and voile trim- med in fancy bralds and buttons, with and without drop lining— black and colors, worth up to $15.00, at . R 7-90 HANDSOMELY TAILORED BLOUSE SUIT—Collarless coat and stole front trimmed with taffeta bands, seven-gore, unlined skirt, in all colors, at . PETTTRTTTIT T A NOBBY SUIT STRICTLY TAILORED JACKET— in black and blue cheviot, at ANKLE LENGTH SUITS—In novelty cloth, blouse jacket lined with satin and skirt strapped and tailored with rows of stitching on bottom of skIr, a ; 10.00 19.90 SAMPLE SUITS—We are showing a line of silk, lined throughout, made in the latest cuts, trimmed in lace and taffeta band and button postillion back, $25, $22.50 and Dress Goods Extra special values in latest dress goods, Black Dress Goods 10 PIECES 46-INCH BLACK ENGLISH BRILLIANTINE—dust finish, always sold for 76c, marked epecial sale only, yard..... ........ v 10 PIECES 52-INCH BLAC! finish—cheap at $1.00 yard, special price, Yard ............... 10 PIECES 54-INCH BLACK MISTRAL—A pretty new raised weay silky appearance—a genuine $1.50 value— speclal price .. proof, bright 50c¢ Z5c e, has fine . 1.LOO Colored Dress Goods 60 PIECES NICE NOBBY NEW COLORED DRESS GOODS in etamines, snow flake and pretty tweed mixtures—goods in this lot very desirable for separ- ate skirts and nice dresey dresses, almost any color desired, values In this lot worth 76c and 85¢ yard—will go on sale Monday morn- soc ing at, yard . . s soft clinging material—one of this sea- SICILIAN—extra heavy and bright 48-INCH CREPE EGYPTIAN—A pretty son's most popular dress fabric, all the new ehades for street and evening wear, will be put on special sale Monday at, yard...... 750 45-INCH FRENCH WOOL TAFFETA—A medium weight all wool dust proof suiting—a very pretty new fabric in a very stylish range of color- ings, considered cheap at $1.25—special price, yard 1 .00 MISTRALS—46-inch all wool mistrals, nice crisp finlsh, all the - new spring colors—special only, YArd ........cce voveerrrsnnes K9S 7DC Wash Goods Dept. We have just recelved our delayed shipments of fine imported and domestic wash goods in whiie and fancles. The asosrtment is complete and is com- posed of all the newest weaves, patterns and effects produced for this spring and summer wear. Owing to tho late arrival profits have been sacrificed in order to move stock quickly. 27-INCH WHITE DIMITIES, check nainsooks, lace and fancy stripe white wash goods for waists and children's dresses—worth up to 17¢, o & e 81-INCH HEAVY WELT WHI' worth 15c yard, at R 27-INCH WHITE PIQUES in new figured effects—worth 20¢, at, yard . 30-INCH MERCERIZED STRIPE W effects, worth 26c, at, yard . 28-INCH FINE MERCERIZED OXFORD WAISTINGS—two thread ‘weave, regular 30c grade, ar . P X 22C 50 PIECES OF MERCERIZED AND PLAI FINISH WHITE WAISTINGS--no ;.:(:-M;:e;llul:l:. d’l'l:ll l:ldln(clildel ullblhe “lnllr‘nl I\Ipuvnh, jilll&'rna and ef- '‘es, dots a satripes, a beautiful quality, worth = up to 39¢, at, yard ... ikt ZDC 75 PIECES OF WHITE VESTINGS—in plain and mercerized finish, includes all the latest effects in the different weaves, oxfords, In stripes, figures and 35¢c plain satin damasks, in beautiful figures, cheviots, fancy patt.rns piques, In dots figures and stripes, worth up to 30c yard, at.. He looked at the date at the head of the 2 e S — | | has been establishing halls whera laborers 3 letter and then at a printed “Reckoning of | {afl ?‘uMH nu-lrr et ugs without resorting Da; done In Toulouse which was pinned | toxicating drinks Fne heia ”l" g«!“’" 1'1( to his desk. | tered free to workingmen. “You have been long upon the way, sir,” | A New York paver asserts that Rev, Kdi he said, somewhat brusquely, to Maurice uckley, the Methodist, “too ¢ Raith. § in assumed name a complate cour s N i n ‘Christlan Science,” for the urpose of The young Scot resented both the words | exposing It." It quotes the reverend man and the tone, himself as authority for the statement, “I bave come as quickly as my orders | Mo Andrew Stevenson. president of t and the safety of the service admitted,” he . resvyieian iini « answered, haughtily. “For that and the rest 1 shall answer to my superior officer! “I beg your pardon,” answered J Cavaller, the fresh boyishness clean gone out of his face, “but the dates—do you know that we of the Cevennes are to make arrapgements to meet a squadron of British ships, crulsing upon the Mediterranean and from them receive further store of provisions and armament of war?" nd what of that?" sald Maurice Raith, scarcely yet come to himself. “Well,” answered the young Camisard, gravely, “we have but three days to do it in—that is all.” He threw the paper upon the table, and, | leaning his head upon his hand, stood con- | sidering. Maurice glanced involuntarily at the writiog, which was, of course, wholly i familiar to him. It was even as the young | man had sald. So many days the combined fleet would cruise off the coast casl of te. If no communication was effected during this period it would be undersiool | /by those in command that the landing was | impossible and the squadron would return | whence it came. | (To be Continued.) TRELIC ous. o being recelved by Paul F. pastor of the Second Presbyterian The naphtha launch of the Christian En deavor society of Frovidence, R. I visited 1,015 vessels this seascn. @ have been deavorers by means Francls Silas Chatard will celebrate on May 10 the v th anniversary of his | Vation to the blahopric of the diocese of | | Vincennes, now the dfocese of Indianapolis | Ind. | A total abstinence assoclation in Berlin cago, stated recently that as a by April 1 vs New York is ons iclde In the world the churches of the state 18] offerings for mis sion , where the ends of the carth meet 'SIGN THE PLEDGE | It You Will, But That Don’t Gure Drunkenness! Drunkenness 18 a disease and 15 80 recog- mized by the medieal profession. The diseased condition of the organs of the body ,und the of the uerves of the' stomach n will-power to effect & cure. will positively destroy all erav- This remedy s pro. pe w INDORSED . A, clergymen, )é men an temperance soctetlen 1e tasteloss, 204 colorlers and entirely without hui e glven WITHOUT Til OWLEDGE, in water, mm:" act, It tones up the discased | a hearty appetite wud good | an | normal *_eand and THE CRAVIN (RETURNS, W 0nd W REFUND THE MO 7 E MONEY tious soon follo FOR LIQUOR W its NEVER sutee (he o I OBRINE o oy all desire fo lgaor, ' Bealed teo ed trce on rogee] omas Hopkin; Commander " G. A R, Washin C., writes: gonal luvertigation has proven fo oo ¢ on BINE" curce the liguor habit. I hink a1 1y emperance orunnles o - Sy bl Il:I !M country showl 1 per N pald, wec Pope Buliding ommended by Sherman & MeCon, Wik and Dodge for §5, by rely aealed. Addecas’ ORRINE w Washiglon, D. . Sold anq I Drug Coy + Omaha, | |