The evening world. Newspaper, August 20, 1902, Page 9

(Copyright, 1902, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) OLLIE!” eried madame, sharply, “Did you hear? Miss Hayes is waiting to have her wedding rea fitted. Didn't I tell you to watch for her and attend to it. Are you aslecp?"’ “Yes, mam—no, mam; I mean, I will attend to it. I—I did not hear, madame, I-1 beg pardon,” and the girl sprang to her feet, flushed and trembling, gath- ered into her arms the priceless gown of the heiress and vanisned through the door leading Into the dressing-rooms, There was a snicker from the other girls and an angry snort from madam. “I don't know what's coming over Miss Culver," she exclaimed. “She eeems to be In a trance."* In the mean time the pretty blue-eyed | girl with the pink cheeks that were the, envy of all the great dressmaking shop of Mme. Gervais had disappeared through the door of the workroom and| emerged into a dainty dressing-room, where awaited a haughty dameel with flashing orbs of the deapest krown and the regal figure of a born queen, ‘This was Florence Hayes, castly the belle of all the city and the greatest heiress as well—a superb young woman, with all the hauteur of the born aristocrat added to features and form and carriage of a beauty of nature. She had reigned long and with a high hand, but at last had ard Dunton and the wedding day had been set and preparations were in prog- ress for the ceremony, which was to be by far the mosi pretentious affair the town had ever seen. Dunton was young, ardent and of ac- knowledged ability, already a power at the bar and in politics; family nor fortune, but distinctly one of the coming men of the place and recog- nized as one of the most desirable catches. It was, in sooth, match, and society revelled in It. Dollie walked over to Miss Hayes. And then a strange think occurred Without the sign of a warning the Iit- tle dressmaker stepped forward, the Jost color blazing in her cheek, and grasping both hands in the filmy in the front of the priceless gown tore out two great handfuls, “Your wedding gow! hysterically. shall not wear Do you hear, shall not wear It. You have no right— in the sight of God, you have no right. The law and the priest may give you the Jega! right, but In the sight of God he belongs to me and I to him. Of course he cannot marry me—I am not ofehis world—all 1. can do ts to love him and be loved—some doll born with a she screamed it. his name,” and then the girl laughed long and ghastly laugh. Then clinch: ing her hands: “Yes, you can bear his are second—that I was first—yes, and am fist now and will be. He is mine and I am his. All you can do is to ride in his carriages and live in his house and bear his name. Much joy to you,” and the girl laughed and cried hysgerically as she stamped her pretty feet on the carpet, The face of the other woman was a drama during this trade. “Tg this true?” she demanded tn a yéice so tense as to awe the girl. 4 must know the truth, Do not trifle with me. If you tell the truth J will be the best friend you ever had. If you are merely after money you can have all THE SAVING OF DOLLIE., By HOWARD DEVINE. succumbed to the ardent court of How-|' not of known! model, laces | “Your wedding gown! You | you} a gold spoon in her mouth must bear) name, but you can never have his heart | and always you mast know that you! “T| you want if you tell me the truth, But do not attempt to trifle with me. T will not stand it, and I warn you for your own ood.” She paused, and the other woman met her eyes without flinching. “T tell you,the truth,” she sald sim- ply, “I tno money. AMT want is him—Howard, It is not his money I want—It is him. I love him—yes, I do— I love him a thousand times better than you or any other woman knows how jand you are going to steal him from ime.” {her face in a sofa—then rose suddenly and fiercely and went on: ‘No, you are not. You cannot, I will watt and watch —yes, and pray, and I will keep him. T know I will, You will have all the honor and the name and pride, but I will have him—see if T don't—him and (his love. You will have the husks and I the kernel.” “Wait, girl,” cried the other flercely, forgetting her position, her dignity— everything but the words of the woman beforesher, “Listen to me." And she grasped her arm so fiercely that Dollie winced. “Prove to me what you say and I will do for you what you can never do for yourself. I will be the {best friend you ever had.” A few moments later the two women left the place together and rode away in the magnificent equipage of Miss Hayes. Never had there been such # gorgeous wedding scene in the social annals of the clty. The church was crowded with the fashion, beauty and chivalry of the most exclusive circles. The great au- |dience craned {ts collective neck to hear the response: “Do you, Florence, take this man to be your wedded husband, to cleave un- to him, forsaking all others, to love, honor and obey him until death do you part?” his most sonorous voice, He paused and comfortably awaited the response. Then came the crash from the clear) sk o 8 6 . . . 'No, I do not the altar In a-clear, ing aside her veil and disclosing a face of ashen color strangely set. “God help me, I cannot. ''— y God, Florence, what does this replied the woman at mean!” exclaimed the bridegroom, aghast. “Silence.” commanded the woman, turning upon him with flashing eye. “I will not because I cannot In the sight of God and man. I will not and canhot because this man belongs to another, But, good friends, you will not be heated of the wedding you came to! see, The bride—the real bride—is here, and the ceremony will go on, and with an !mperious gesture she motioned forward Dollie Culver from her brides- j maids, Mfted the veil from her fright- ened face and, turning to the glerzy- ‘man, sald: “Proceed, sir, the bride an@ the bride- groom are ready.” The reverend father cau:ht the poetic | justice of the occasion a: | sternly be- an the service over again. bridegroom, unable to gather together his scattered senses, mumbled along the | words were spoken and the Four Hun- dred were making thelr way to the door amid a rattle of tongues that would have put the tower of Babel to sleep in | ® cradle. (Copyright, 1902, by Dally Story Pub. Co.) HE young man, alone in the little house on the high point, took from his pocket a letter, and read it for the fourth time since coming on duty two hours before. Then he carefully scanned a time-tadle of the White Belt Steamship Company. And that was for the fourth time also. Once more he read the letter, addressed in a feminine hand to Mr. Arthur Hill, and once more he compared it with the time-table. From the wall above the table a girl emiled down upon the operator. A girl in » sailor hat, with dark, wavy locks, Hill was awakened from his day- @ream by the banging of a shutter. The wind was rising. Click-click-click, click, elick-click- click, click. S-t, s-t, s-t. The little wounder began to Jerk like mad. Just the two le.ters over and over; st, s-t, @t. It was the call for @ station. Hill @prang to the table and answered, then with eager impatience waited for a re- ply, At last the sounder began to speak, “This is the Ethan Allen. Are you Pine Island Point? 8, Hunt.” ‘Through Hunt Hill promised himselé @ long chat with Ethel Wade. Hi danced around the mom tn great glee, shook his fst at the raging storm, blew @ kiss to the girl in the picture and managed to stand still long enough to reply: “O. K. Go ahead. Hill," Blowly, laboriously, the instrument be- an its task. Hill calmed down to cateh the first words from Wthel, ‘To his sur- prise and dismay it was an official de- spateh, . “Wire Boston office Ethan fen riven out of course by storm and Ice, Lost bearings. Storm increasing, Half speod, ‘Two slight leaks, Capt, An- drows, Now camo another long walt. Since the captain's telegram it cost him a great pang to look up at the girl smil- ing from the picture, He could only stare at the cruel waste of waters and the gloomy waste of clouds, The unfeel- ing sounder began to click, At the first words his heart jumped with the pleas- ant thrill of expectanoy, ‘Dearest, don't worry, Bverything fe all right. I am comfortable, and got the least bit frightened, Bean talk to you, Wo, Ien't it strange? But when we are married no long distance com- munication for me, You on aes | i rive me Aake Oy Grom you AT THE LAND STATION. By HARRY KING TOOTLE. Hill was puzzled. The captain's mes- Sage told all too plainly of the danger; yet Ethel's message was lght-hearted, almost frivolous. He wondered if she really knew. Trembling like a drunken man, a full minute passed before he could put his hand resolutely’upon the transmitter, ‘Dear Bthel—You don't know what @ fool I feel I am for asking you to re turn to Boston in such weather, Can you ever forgive me? Do you know you are in danger? Have Hunt tell you everything. I hope it i not as bad as I fear, Of course, you,will pull through, After we meet in Boston nothing will ever separate us again. Forgive me for advising this trip. Anxiously, “ARTHUR.” Hill added a postscript for Hunt. “Hunt, tell me the true state of af- fairs. I would give everything only to be on the Bthan Allen.” Again came the weary period of wait- ing, When the sounder took up {ts burden Hill listened attentively to the story. “Captain's message tells all. new. Don't see how boat can liv Miss Wade knows the truth; Is calm, preparing message to you. New leak reported. All pumps going. When taking this assignment J prepared for this, yet, for God's sake, do what you can to comfort my wife. I shall do my Vest for Miss Wade when the time comes.” Vully recognizing the Impotency of his position the operator paced his office like a caged tiger, It was all he could do, ‘Paking the heavy iron poker from under the stove he played with it ab sent min@edly like a walking-suick, The sounder began its feeble record, a ram- bling and disconnected tale, but all the more terrible for its lnooherency. in botler-room—fires out. Boats boing launched—can't ond inate's bout smaab whip can't live quarte: will not leave, nel tain’ — It was ended. Nothing live =e ost, ‘he hour, Captats and I in cape posalbiy 1 The ttle sounder came to @ stop with a malicious snap, and refused to give up further ec of the dead. Hill watted with straining nerves and staring eyes, but it was use- jeas, A loud biaat of the wind aroused him. With a plereing laugh he sprang to his foot and grasped t in ts blind rage We ewig It nGove nis he ewung it above bit he it down Soon. the tho bar rose and fall with Volentions Try, Overcome at lat by the detletumn of Nis madness Hill sank tothe floor owe ering before the riot of the cars Fake She sank on her knees and buried | read the clergyman solemnly 10 | t44 state would have dented Judge Chandler having tense tone, throw- | ‘The startled | responses and in a thrice the closing | J | j by | contrasting strangely in costui (Copyright, 1902, by Dally Story Pud. Co.) DGE CHANDLWR was the most admired, the most feared and the most disilked man on the Supreme bench, His veneration of the law was the dominant passion of his Ilfe, and so above all els: and so all-diftusing that in the whole round of human emotions there existed not one that could Jostle 1¢, His recon! testified that he had never tolerated a testing of the law's clastic properties for the relief | of offending humanity. It was a soft night in April, and the Judge was, as usual, at work in his rooms at the State House. He was writing the opinion that would affirm the decision of the Disttict Court In the celebrated case of State vs, Margaret Matthews. The members of the court had gone over it at unusual length among themselves that afternoon, for in the first place three of the judges had leaned to a new trial. Their reasons were a lttle shaky, but Margaret Matthews was a beautiful woman, and her husband had well enough deserved killing at her hands. In the end, however, Judge Chandler had disposed of their contentions with the brutality of a logician, and so to-night he was writing the opinion that would mean the beautiful and long-suffering young creature must spend her life in the-dreary confines of the State penitentiary. He had almost finished his work when there came a knock at the door, “Well—come in.” When the boy stood before him he supposed it was merely a telegram and resumed his work. But when the young visitor sald: “Are you Judge Chandler?” it was not in mes- senger boy volce, and upon second look he laid his pen aside and said quietly: Igm. What is it?” ‘I killed my father a couple of hours ago,” sald the boy. ‘TI thought I'd come and tell you about ft." Judge Chandler measured him with his eye and was betrayed Into a fleeting look of surprise. Then, with his much-feared directness, he’ asked: “Aren't you taking your case to the Supreme Court a Uttle early?” 1 guess you don't know who I am," said the boy’ “Fred Ewing is my name. My mother used to be Miés Edith Welling when you knew her. She's dead-- you know.” ‘There came a gasp of pain from somewhere, but all any part in it. Yet the whole State to the contrary, It fs sure that | he got up and took the boy by the shoulders, and that his lips grew lifelessly white, and he was mumbling some unintglligitile thing between them. I did not know where to go,"' the boy went on, ‘and so I just walked round. When I saw I was up the State House I rememmered she ha} told me once If I ever was In any trouble and didn't know where to go to come to you. She sald if I told you A DEVOTION TO CONSISTENCY # my mother's name used to be Miss Edith Welling Jyou'd look after me. She didn't have time to say any mors about it because he cam fast then Judge Chandler's face had grown a queer cast— something a great deal more colorless than white “it down,” he mumbled, pointing weakly to one of the high-backed chairs, “and tell me.” The boy throw bitck his coat “Here's the blood,” he sali rubbing bis hands lin- gcringly across the red streaks on his chest. “Now you can tell for sure 1 did it The Judge looked from the ugly red streaks up to the calf-skinned volumes that ned the room) and vhen his eye came back to the table and rested a min- ute on the opinion he had been writing, “But why, he whispered in dry, “for God's sake, boy, why” “Bocaue® he sald things about my mother,” sald the boy hotly, “and because he took my plieture of her and threw It In the fire and stood there laughing at {t while {t burned up. That's why I killed him. Wouldn't you nave killed him too?’ "Yes," replied Judge Chandler, of the Supreme Court, in cold, decisive vol 1 would. God—God," he went on with glowing violence, “how I would love to have killed him," and his’ head fell to the opinion that was to send the beautiful woman to the penitentiary, and there came sobs that seemed to make those leather-bound custodians of the law tremble in their places. The boy went over and stood beside him. “1m glad you think It was right to kill him,’ said. The Judge shook his head. something, but failed. “IT wish I'd known about you before. Maybe If I'd come here you'd have got the doctor for mother when she was sick. Would you?” “Yes,” he whispered, and all the tragedy of @ Ife time seemed to go into the words, “I would.” he got awful white at Inst,” the boy continued, his voice quivering a Uttle for the first time. “I gitess she knew she was going to die. If she hadn't she wouldn't have told me about coming to you. I'm glad now she did, I don't know what I'd have done if she hadn't, He didn't pay any attention to her at all except to say things to make her cry. She cried all the time the week she died. And he didn't care at all wbout her being dead, Right after the funeral he went away and stayed three days and then he came rack and brought some men and women with him. They made an awful noise.’ ‘The Judge had closed his eyes and his fists shut tight together. Two bright red spots came into his colorless face. “Are you sure he is quite dead?” he asked in c | quiet, awful voice. | “The boy only nodded an assent, for there were foot- steps in the hall, and they had halted befere the door, “Beg pardon for troubling you, Judge,” sald the un- uniformed officer, “bit we are on track of Fred Ew- shut-up yolee, * he He scemed trying to say To-Morrow’s Story: “ACK CLIMBS: WALL By Albert Bigelow Paine. BY SUSAN KEATING GLASPELL ing, a boy suspected of killing his father. He came to somewhere In the vicinity of the State House, and) one of the guards sald a boy about his size came | tuto the bufiding a while ago on pretense of wanting | to see you. We thought” “The boy who came to see me had a message,” broke in the Judge in his cold way. “He is a boy T know, 1 have seen no one else “That's all sald the officer, turning away. “Thank you But the boy was moving restlessly in the next room. He was frightened now, and that made the look of the mother more pliin than it had been before. It was so easy to think the years had rolled back- ward, and that it was she who s.o0d beside him. Th ating of hit heart made him feel what a fool he had been to suppose he could ever live It down— and forget The law had been a paltry, empty substitute after all, for the old days ¥ as vivid now as they had been twenty years | Sh had never gone out of his hourt—she never wou “Sit down there by the window,” he sald in a voice he had not ured for twenty years, “It will be all rlght, only T shall have to think It out" At last he took a bunch of Keys from his pocket and started to “Tam going over to the clerk's of- “to look for some things that leave the room he told the boy, help us.” When he came back ho Iald a large bundle on table “A strange use to make of exhibits. to himself than iis companion, “but only way. Half an hour later the boy looking gir! ‘A cloak and hat submitted In in another, had worked the transformation. “T think we can manage,” wald the Judge as he mi the he said, more it seems the was nn inconspteuous looked him over, “and L can get them back in time,” He turned to make his own preparations, and then wha he was ready to leave stood there looking dully about the room. He knew ft would never be the same to him again. A week later came the stupefying news that Judge | Chandler, after returning from a visit to Montreal, had handed the Governor his resignation from the bench. When the truth did come it was a greater blow than the restanation had heen, Judge Chandler had left the bench to become a criminal lawyer. He won hia rst case, and he kept on win- ning, Soon {t was sald to be Impossible for the law to hold her own where Chandler—her onee unbending exponent—was acting for the defendant They frankly said they could not understand. “He Is a strange mixture,” sald an old lawyer to a friend one day. "I have concluded he {s a man whose tendencies are not consistent with themselves.” He was never to know that a devotion to consis- tency was the very thing that had brought it all about COL. CURLEIGH (Copyright, 1902, by Dally Storr Pub. Co.) ~ ? was dim autumn twilight without, with a spiteful if gust twirling about the corners of the house and crisp brown leaves shivering to the earth, and the unutterable pathos of late autumn lowering over It all, and pervading every nook and cranny; even creeping Into the great oaken hall of the Curleigh mansion and for once quieting black Tom's ‘tongue with a strange kind of awe as he-plled higher the log fire and watched the blazes peep about between the wood, and then go dancing up the chimney. Col, Curleigh, himself, shivered and leaned heavily upon his goid-headed cane, as he passed down the hall and into the brary. The room was of stately size, with good taste and luxury modestly and with well-bred unobtrustyeness hidden away in the depths of its soft draperies and carven furniture. ‘Against the wall stood several massive bookcases, with carved deer and boars chasing each other across the fronts, wiile ponderous tomes peeped from within through diamond-paned glasses. On the walls, be- sides the governor over the mantel, numerous other Curleighs looked down from their gilt frames, dingy and cracked with age. Near one end of the room was a recent portrait, with its neighbors. It was the colonel's wife, a woman with a soft, beau- tiful eyes, that had one day looked at the susceptible colonel and entranced him, and then passed off into the dank, stony Curlelgh vault down by the parish chureh. The colonel drew up before the mantel a capacious armchair, from whose depths he gazed drowslly at the fire. In.perceptibly his thoughts wandered from tople to topic, mostly of the p ‘Ahem!" ‘The colonel gave a start, for the cough unmis- takably came from over the mantel, and, to his further and utter astonishment, the governor in his gilt frame shut both eyes and opened them again, and then proceeded to open his mouth, ‘Ahem! Col. Curlelgh, I believe,” said the gov- ernor, stepping without the least trouble’ from his frame down to the floor, and bowing; ‘charmed to have the pleasure.” : “The same,” replied the colonel, recovering his composure with an effort. “The present head of the Curleighs charmed, I assure you.” ‘The colonel was still nonplussed, and in default of a remark offered bis strange guest a chalr. “Now,” said the latter, seating himself and taking I presum ’S RECKONING a pinch of snuff, “I have a bit of family: business to s; shall we procecé at once?” means.”* “Well, punctuating his remarks by rapping nis cane upon the floor, “you are perhaps aware of a custom which holds that members of my family at some time before death are summoned before a fam- fly tribunal and there passed in review. Therefore T have assumed the duty of assembling my relatives on this night, but considered it an act of courtesy to first speak with your honorable self, lest there be preparations such as you may deem necessary for the occasion," ‘The governor drew a long breath and settled back in his chalr. “I believe there are none.” “Very good," He tapped on the floor with his cane. Then, to the colonel’s stil! more profound astonish- ment, the varlous portraits, one by one, were seen to descend, First came a pompous matron rustling down from her frame; then several beruffled men, and a slim-walsted beauty, arm in arm with the original {mmigrant that came frem England. Meanwhile the assemblage chattered gayly over topics of the last generation, gossip long since de- cayed with its votaries, finance, politics, whig and tory, until one might have thought hinwelf to be his own grandfather. All was cut short, governor's cane. “We will now proceed.” he said, ‘merely as a mat. ter of form,” nodding reassuringly to the colonel, ‘to address to our relative a few perfunctory questions, First, your profession was—er?” es however, by a vigorous rap of Successful?” The governor twisted up his watch-chain by way of expressing his dissatisfaction, and a shadow passed over his brow Have you held office?” “Amassed@a fortune?” No." ‘Written any books or in any way distinguished yourself?” . “II fear not.” ‘The governor twisted his watch-ohain into several complicated bowk: nd his brow grew darker. “The Curleigh said, drawing bimself haughtily, “are not accustomed to live thus," chi"y broke in a feroclous-looking general up we By J. y J. ED WARDS > had In his time been noted for doing nothing can stand anything but that; withered him vy with a look and turned to the as semblage. . “Our relative scarcely seems to have honored his family very highly. The Curleighs are not wont to live thus." His brow was like the frown of a thun- der-cloud. “wr reiterated the general, grinding his teeth. “Horrid wretch!" exclaimed the —silm-watsted beauty “Out with him! gut with him!” cried all at once. “Shame on him! disown him!" They pressed threnteningly forward, but the gov- ernor raised his hands for silence and again spoke: “I understand, then, vhat your opinion, after cool and deliberate weighing of facts, Is unfavorable to this man. It seems to be unanimous.” ‘There was a murmur of approval, but ft was cut short by @ woman's soft woice that came from the shadow of one of the far corner “T beg Your Honor's pardon,” {t said: and every one turned surprisedly to the speaker: “the verdict is not unant . and Your Honor is @ wreich, and you, and you, and you," to the others, ‘All this was said In @ cool and restrained but firm volce, and ag the speaker finished she stepped out into the centre of the group. ‘The assembly instantly recognized her as the col- jonel's wife, Thero was a decision in the beautiful eyes that awed all into an noashed allence, in the midst of | which whe flung her arms about the colonel’s neck and cast a defiant glance at the governor, Never mind what these cruel men may say to you. I know that a life cannot have been wasted that made me so happy. Could you or I care for any honor without love? At any rate, I love you as though you were the Czar or a Senator or anything big, just be- cause—because | do.’ ‘The head nestled down upon hia shoulder. drew the figure a Mttle closer. s ow,” he whispered, “1 think we can dit with the opinion of these ladies and gentlemen ‘The colonel looked up, but to his surprise the com- pany was gone, The governor smiled benignantly over his head from the midst of the gilded frame, just ay he nad always done. But the fire was out and the room was chilly “Tom,” he called, putting his head out of the door, “some more wood for the fre." (Copyright, 1902, by Datly Story Pub, Co,) T was during my first season," said Betty, discon- solately. ‘ “Pray, then, take comfort,” said I. ‘He's probably forgotten about it by this time." We had left the golf links for the seductive shelter of the summer-house “As I was saying,” she went on, “I met him every- wherd. He was awfully devoted, and sent me flowers and candy and gloves—he was certainly very much tn love—and 1"— I murmured encouragingly, as she paused, ” vesuined Betty, reflectively, ‘I really was too young to know my own mind. I couldn't endure him now. ‘The passion of my life has yet to come.” “When half gods xo the gods arrive,,"" I quoted “What did you say?” Inquired Betty, L repeated the quotation, “and you were very much in love, to “What does that mean?’ shé demanded. Tt means,” sald I, “that when you marry me you'll forget all about Archdeang” Betty looked thougbttul. “It probably means,” she said with more discern: nat than I should have credited her, ‘that when I marry Lord Crackenthorpe I'll forget all about you." “Should you be #o ungrateful?” 1 acquiesced, “The reason I told you this,” sal deBtty, examining my brassy attentively, “was to ask you if you would mind—that ia & you would cane somd mann, do you BETTY’S LOVE think you could find out for me if he considers me"'— “In other would like words,” vald 1, as she hesitated, “you me to sound Archdeane himself.” “Well, yes,’ suid Betty, much relleved by my com- prehension, "that’s exactly $t." | I aanured her 1 would yo to the ends of the earth to serve her Interests. “Its awfully good you, Mr. Carmichael,” said Betty, gratefully, “1 never shall forget it, 1 assure you." “The pleasure,” 1 asserted, ‘is mine," It's nice of you to that,” sald Betty naively confortable. You must up- noe sm token of my smcere ou can easily kee that in the arriage with Lord Crackenthorpe in position I should be placed should ‘it makes me feel mor | preciate that my contld friendealp for y Jevent of my Archdeane appear.” Indeed, yer,” said 1, greatly affected by the touch- ing proot of Miss Gordon's regard, “I can fully realize 1t, I once had & sinmlar experience.” "You did?” said Betty, eagerly, “You never told me, Who was ghe?’ I was silent on this point “How did you ever met out of it?’ asked Retty, After discovering that we were not adapted to each lother’s needs, I decided to tell her so, I went to her and said: “Millly''— “Was it Mildred Powell?’ demanded Betty breath- leasly. 1 heaitaced, “Well, yo, it was," I waid at length, “bus T trust ° to your honor, Mis Beity, not to speak of what 1| have unwittingly disclosed.” Oh, very well,” quoth Miss Betty angrily, * ever made you change?” Yi I said promptly, Betty was molliged, Next diy, in Paris, Archdeane's sister apprised met of his mar 1 ganped for breath "Who-whom dia he marry@’ 1 managed to articu- late Why, Mildred all, of course,” enld Lady Ash leigh, wondering at my stupidity When I had sufMiciently pulled myself together 1} took my leave and returned to tay hotel, There 1 found a letter from my fatner summoning me at once to Rome I accordingly despatched the following telegram to Betty to acquaint her with the result of my labors “Miss Kilzabeth Gordon, Saximinster, Blankshire, land PARIB, 2 June, 1890 st night. Shortly after my Powell, Know you wit | 1 Rome this afternos 1. CARMICHAEL: Hefore return. “Archdeane left Paris arrival was married to Milly send hearty congrats. Leave RK 1 have never seen Miss Gordon since ing to England I visited Monte Carlo There 1 met Lady Crackenthorpe on her honeymoon Bhe received my greeting with a frigid tow Gossip about her was rife there and (he sory was going the rounds that, having been jilted by the man phe loved, abe had married old Crackenthorpe in # OF of pique. 10 case, and a wig! but the governor | The col- | i caer oF MUSIC. twhat-| /EDEn! ” | CHERRY BLOSSOM GROVE | KALTENBORN A WINDFALL. By JULIA TRUITT BISHOP. then all at once he caught both her | hands and made her look at him. “Poverty isn't such a bar, ts it? he 1902, by Dally Story Publisbing Co.) {LINORE HOLBROOK, spins- (opyrtaht SS ter, sat in her room in the tene- ment-hoyse and thougnt(ully |asked, with stmple tenderness, “Would took stock, as it were, of the situation, |{t matter if we were always poor? It couldn't be much worse than this, could it?—and then we would be together, In- stead of always alone. I want to atand between you and the world and keeg ou sheltered and fight your battles for |ghe Was forced to confess that it was not very alluring. True, she was young, with a valiant lighthoartedness at most times, with a face that had been found very attructive, in |ts time, and with soft blue eyes that had a gift for seek pu. You'll let me do that, won't you, jing out the sorrows other people had je" | shut up in their own hearts, and for “Are you sure you love me?” eht learrying help and comfort with theit Jasked, wistfully, "Perfectly. perfeetl; jal. Hut what did all that amount | sure?" ‘a 7 Jto this evecing? Tt really seemed that! “Perfectly sure,” he replied with « would have to give up the struggle herself defeated She had pau again and leaned back in the battered old one-armed rocker, Something was coming over her that she had never felt before—a kind of weakness that settled down on her like a pall. She could scarcely articulate the faint "Come in! when there was @ rap at the door, A tall young man in a velveteen jacket entered and care- fully deposited q large bundle on the | tabte | happy laugh, trying to draw her nearer, jand acknowledge But she held him away. nd would you give up loving me if you found that I was even poorer than you thought—oh, dreadfully poor?” “I would love you, even if I found that the crackers and water had giver out.” he said with the deepest gravity, And all at once she was laughing an¢d there were tears on her lashes, “And suppose that I were to receive ¢ windfall, too?’ she questioned demurely. "L would try to bear {t,"" he asserted vallantly, taking delight in the bloom on q her face and the shiaing of her eyes e could club together and have an evening at the theatre and « supper afterwards and then settle down to the happlest poverty!” “Oh, my dear! she murmured trem- blingly. “I have a great fortune, but } never was so glad of it, so happy for {1 before. It had all seemed so useless— and I was so useless—and I came here to ve among the poor for a while— to live as they lived—to learn to help them—then I learned to love you.” “1 don't mind so much ‘about the money,” he answered steadily. “One reason Is that the windfall I mentioned ia my grandfather's fortune, which came to me through his death five months ao." © had a windfall,” he said, cheer- fully, “and I've been out buying eat- ables. I wouldn't give two cents for the things If I have to eat them alone Come, help me spread the table, now.” It was so transparent that her face flushed a deeper red, but she tried to smile at him brightly. “What a pity! I ate dinner only a few minutes ago!’ she sald without moving. ‘But do alt down here and eat, Mr. Carter, and we'll talk. A windfall! How lovely! You must have sold a picture yourself, then?” He had been looking at the little ta- dle, and now he turned upon her ac- cusingly. “You have been eating crackers and water," he said, his face reddening. |“* ive months ago!’ she cried, looking “How aid you dare?—and with my room|at him in amazement. “And you have ten steps away! T think you might/had money me? Then why— why have you stayed""—— have given me credit for a little manli- TeReayOul might ave tetleib! be your||,cjenens 7) SoMIGME leave nyow ake friend, at least!” ‘And then th held cash other's han ° hat id laughed like two children, only tl “L-T dida’t mind it she murmured, ike twa. children, only saa weakly, not daring to look at him. \ Se eee tacoma: Seonme back to carth, after . “Don't be mullty of subterfuges, Mian He cried with rectors happineas: Ana! “Oh, let's eat. Lam simply famished!" eee ‘Holi rook,” CASTORIA or Infants and Children, | The Kind You Have Always Bought he retorted bitterly. Amusements ZANMATTA ‘BEACH : to-bay at SHANNON'S , 222, BAND 3.30PM TONIGHT PAIN? S ANCUNT Row and | Bears the ATSP. M. GRAND FIREWORKS Signarare oa exit. BOSTONIANS |": i. _ROBIN HOOD: and MAID MARIAN, Lex. Ave. 2 10TtH St. Mat. To-Day. WILLIAM |AN AMERICAN) 15,25,85 RONELLI GBNTLEMAN. |50 & Tbe. BRIGHTON 2% ‘Datiy. Wamtly, Bedint & Arthur, Betting Gerard, Muior Cycle Sencation, Slaler's Band. aise TRING, Lea Qe. to $1.00, Popul bortices Ex. . MUSICAL’ cursion : Show OTEDY, iy a Beyond Comparison. freien! Girl Saareececkd the world, A band of wild BOX-OFFICE OPEN rifers and steer-catehe | BROADWAY THEATRE ‘i=..5,0" Broadway. GEO, aa "Ss tiayrh tp SALLY 2 OUR ALLEY. i Ae Mus: by Latwte Raslander Book by eo.V.Hobart | FORMANCE DAILIAT oe rte Tate SEAT SALE TO-MORROW, 9 A. Me SUIJECT TO CHANGR—STEAMERS LEAVR? | Cortlandt at. pier, 9.00, 10.00, 11.00 A. pet VISIT phOOTOR'S a rit, ream and aquariam FREE. Delighttal | at 1.30 3.45, $15 P.M. Bri GOOD-BY | 26. 89 Fulton Ferry, Brooklyn, $30, 10.90, 1. Une, hates yey ie 73 | 12.20, 2.00, 2.50, 4.00 5. |S6IH ST. | “wel iec|e eS IDEAL | SUMMER YAUDBY Id 23RD ST. 32% ad STH AVE) g BR | 51S.) t4th St. land 30 A. cla and Brooklyn : 12.00 1P. fF | Tande et. only 73:00, 5.09, 6.50, 6.00, 7.00 and $.08 M tor all jandings : Frequent Ct poate Sundays oa Holidays. s i Mais Wed.@ Bat iG Wi'r?—Journal, RoBi | EMMET, THE LONG ISLAND RAILROAD. MANHATTAN BEACH. ———— | 1.10 to 28, 4 8.40, 6.00, MAMMAROTEIN'S, 424 ot. Wwara7thay, 1610, 84, 0H, 1080 PM. ARADISE HOU¥ GANDER Bib. | FARE, minutes atter 3 16 BIO VAUDE- ‘PASTOR'S } Johuaun, Davenport & Lore: a Haymond Gar- | erty. Grace toa Roe & Co. others | FLOATING ROOF GARDEN, eye. 8T GRAND REPUDLIC. Pri. excepted. roy 14th Meet Dand & Vaudeville, Leave Waa, 8 P.M W, BORN, 8.80; Mattary, 9PM, tities LY. no, the, Bika Parry, connect with ET Te Bey ‘9.20, 11.02 A. Mf. ‘a od 00, 5.40 PM. EXCURSION FARE, Boe. ROCKAWAY BEACH. Panu | Se: lw ee 50c,-LONG BRANCH AND BACK-50c, | 80:,-ASBURY PARK AND BACK-80c, HIGHLAND BEACH— PLEASURE BAY NEARBY SEASIDE RESORTS, TOO ITA M240 BR. M 14th St. & frving Pi. CROWDING THE GREAT ACADEMY |QuINc SY ADAMo SAWYER. ; 17,100 Mate Wed A Sat.2, Bye. 8 15 | | KNICKERBOCKER an 11 TURDAYS. y MATTERY. $90, 11.90 A. M.. S58 4, Hiway @ B8th & A) PM Bib Mat. Bat 215, M. bd 0 P.M. a To WEEKS LBDEREK a NOW vauous LONG BRANCH, T1040 M., a5 eM ) ry 1HE WILD ROSE, ight mite ae } | Madis'n 8, Wom, AMO tock Adm, 60, ROUTE fi atin) Ku ove! JAPAN BY NIGHT | Ge Thpanene TERRACE GARDEN *: Nie “ERMINIE.”? GENERAL SLOCUM GRAND REPUBLIC The most refreshing hour & 69D Hie plex AY BMY leaving We 120h St. 9 A. Mo W = 84) and 10.8 M13 lights’ Nand Carntvaie tng 990 10 je reeces 1th week aad Gh ot Cofmebus 120 deg. cooler than the seaside ave OMLD IN WAX! New Groupe CINE MATOOR AP Ht Orchestral Concerts and Voc Cormnation KING ROWAR |Meae ‘KEITH 8, ‘METROPOL'S Vdd St & ad Ave, did chorus Kye 5 Str, William Btorh and 1th at file ViLuAté DinSdi, rt Bt Bye ngs, 8.16, MUSICAL COME Newburg and Poughkeepale apuin except *), by Palace Irom Day onsen street ew "ror and “Albany. IP ANY ONE SHOULD ASK ¥OU, YOU MAY 8AY—That the New York ‘ity clreuistion of the Morning Te:nieht T Vorld alone is over ® quarter of @ Casino ii A CHIABSE ONE MOO alllion more than aay other HERALD ii | ES |THE DBFENDER| every week tn the yemm WaT Po! wroursion Line Steamers Dy VAUDEVILLE AND slump, Bway & 0 ie, ‘Thats Olrele Av: ree igen