VOL II.
LINCOLNTON, N. C, FRIDAY, APRIL 19, 1889.
NO. 49
TV l -I! V J I! If I J J 'O
BY JOHN E. BAttRETT.
OOPTRIOHTKD lSk. BY COLLIER'S -'ONCE A
WKiK." "ALL RIGHTS RESERVED." PUB
LISHED BY HPKCIAL AKRANGKMKNT
WITH THE Pf:OPRIKTOH OF
"ONCE A WE1IK."
It Ned Newcomb's footfall -et her heart
beating with delight, it also filled her
with despair, for she felt that though he
loved him dearly, and he had good rea
son to think her love was returned,
there was a gulf between them that could
not bo bridged by faith or hope. It was
not alone the written certificate of hei
weird marriage with Clarence Carson
of which by the way she had no recol
lection that tilled her mind with those
diitresBlg and distracting fears, which
always arose most vividly in her mind
whftaNed Neweomb was near, but the
firm, uaraefrt and emphatic conobora
Uon o th"? fact by Judjre Gilbert Raus m.
fho had performed the oeremony, and
tho was stubbornly ready to swear to It
"The doctor say9 there's a poMlbl
banc for my sight, Ned," said Noel, as
ton aa the presence of the visitor wa
bade known to the blind man.
"That's good news, indeed," replied
fed; "and who knows but you may re
urn from Philadelphia able to see your
riends as of old."
" Ah ! that's a joyous thought, Ned, but
o tell you the truth, lad, I have not much
lope. It seems to me as if the long night
lad set infor which there is no dawning
his side of the grave. But I'll bear it
iravely, whatever it be, and I trust my
;ood wife and my dear children will
how equal courage. Ah, Ned, lad, in all
his darkness I am buoyed up by one
Teat thought, and that is that you are
ur friend. Friends that one may tie to
ire scarce these days, " continued Noel,
peaking in a low, firm voice, that was
re e from emotion; "but it gladdens me
u my blindness that my wife and chil
Iren havo some one that they may see
rhen I am not near, without fear of re-
roach or scandal. I tell you, Ned, that's
t great thought, but we never realize it
intil wo are helpless. When a man is so
tricken down that he is unable to raise
in arm in defense of his dear ones, what
t comforting thing it ia to feel that there
B some brave, unselfish, brotherly heart
ft the world to whom they can go in
Jheir hour of sorrow, and who will not
rrong them in thought, or word, or deed,
if all the world could only realize this,
toere would be less inhumanity, less bit
terness, less betrayal of sacred trusts, and
fewer broken hearts. "
The sobbing of his wife and Edith at-a-aeted
Noel's attention, and he paused
n his remarks. Not being able to see
he effect of his words, he could not dis
ern the gathering storm of sorrow in the
luces of his dear ones, and ho was first
cade aware of their grief when they
tould no longer stifle their sobs.
Ked Newcomb was a man of tended
Visibilities, and be could not help De
ng iWIeoted by this touching scene,
klore especially was ho impressed with
ihe sublime faith In his honor, to which
lie blind man had given expression, and
ie resolved mentally that, come what
bight, he would never prove unworthy
f that exalted opinion.
"Noel, "ho said, taking the blind man
5y the hand, "I fear you regard me alto
ether too highly. Such attributes as
fou have, In your generous heart, en
lowed mo with, are indeed rare in this
rorld; but I will say that, whether you
te present or absent, should your dear
m&i ever stand in need of such friend
hip as I can show them, they will never
mil on Ned Newcomb iu vain. "
"God bless you, lad ! It does me good
k near these words from your manly
leort, and now my mind will be much
lazier while I am away. "
The hour for Noel's departure was near
it hand. There was a carriage at the
loor to take himself and his wife and
tdith and Ned Newcomb to the station,
md everything was in readiness.
Noel asked tho time, and, on ascertain
Big that he had yet a few minutes to
ipare, he asked Edith to sing him one or
Jwo verses of a song that had long been
s favorite with hirn. It was Abt's well
jenown "O, ye Tears. "
Edith pleaded that there was not suf
ficient time, but Noel insisted that she
ft tiff pne verse at least, "because," h9
aid, "never before was the theme so
fauch in harmouy with my feelings as af
preent."
Ever ready to comply with her father'
rUh.es, Edith seated herself with t
baary heart at the organ in the little par
lor, and with a great effort to smother
&er grief, sang the following words of tho
ireU-kaown song;
Q yeteart 1 Ore tears 1 I am thankful that f
run,
rtougk j come from cold and dark, ye ahaU
slitter la the iun.
( ralabow can cot cbeer us. if the sbow'rs re.
fata to (all,
A4Uieji that oaanot weep art tbe sadJeit
7e of all.
ti light upon my path, there It Bumhlne la
my ficrt,
AmA Ua leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly df
art T rettore to me the freshneia and tbe bloom of
lent ago.
0 y tesrt I happy tear l I am thankful that ft
low."
Th last word ot the song fell tremb
ling from Edith's Hps in a rush of grief
tint held the listeners spell-bound.
Efce could not sing another line then for
all tho world. Her heart was bursting,
fend sfc.e bowed her head on the music be
fore her, and mingled her own bitter
n witfc tho word9 of Abt'a pathetio
?5f-lfa SH la JJt Uttlo groirn but
ti r'lf knew all her cau.e for sorrow.
'i'. her there was mockery in the words,
'There is light upon my path, there ia
-iwishine in rny heart," ami ahe felt
'rly crushed by the burden of her ir
teaiitible, inexpressible grief. Instead
of the promise of the song, it weiaed to
dith tliat there wa gloom upon her path
ftud sorrow In her heart; but she did find
relief in tear?, and her spirit was some
what lighter when she put her hand in
that of her father, to lead him to the car
riage, and felt his kiw upon her cheek.
CHAPTER XV.
LOVE AND BORROW.
T was a painful
parting at the rail
way station, be
tween Noel Edwards
and hi daughter
Edith, when the
blind man, acting
upon the advice of
his friends, was
about to leave on
the train for Phila-
'- delphi. to place him
self under the care of a iumous oculUt
in the hope of regaining his sight.
Ned Newcomb, the stalwart, steadfast
friend, conducted Noel to a comfortable
eat in the car, and theu placed the quiet
pntient wife by the side of her afflicted
; isbaud some minutes before it was
;ime for tbe train to start. Then Ned
.ook the seat directly behind Noel and
bis wife, and beside him sui Edith vho
wascnoking with grief.
Noel Edwards, h: nself, tried to be
cheerful and to inspire his dear ones
Jrith hope. He was sensible of Ediths
anguish, and he would gladly stem the
surge of sorrow which he knew was
swelling about her young heart.
"It is wrong to despair," he said.
"The words of the song, that Edith .sung
at the house, whisper hope to my mind,
and there mav yet be 'light upon my
path, and sunshine in my heart.' It is
this ho'pe that buoys me up in my blind
ness, Ned, and gives me strength to un
dertake this journey to Philadelphia.
The sense of motion and the conscious
ness that I am going forward as swiftly
as a bird, when this train is speeding on,
will make me feel that I can see again,
and realize, even in the dark, that God is
daily adding something to man's com
fort and happiness, to tompensa'e him
for his shortcomings. ''
Thus Noel talked on cheerfully until
the time came for the train to utart, and
the "Well-known "All aboard" of the con
ductor warned Ned Newcomb and Edith
'hat they must quit the car, if they did
lot want to be carried off.
After one more hurried good-by, the
young people rushed out on the platform,
and the train sped away from the Grims
by station in the direction of Philadelphia.
Edith watched it with an achmg heart
intil it was lost to sight, and then suf
Vred herself to be led by Ned Newcomb
:o the carriage that still waite l lor them
it the entrance to the station.
A great loneliness seemed to take pos
session of her as the carriage drove slow
ly bak to tho little home, from which
father and mother were now absent for
the first time in many years; but she
tried to realize the responsibility that had
been suddenly thrust upon her, in the
oaie of the younger children, and to
meet it with the courage and fortitude
of a true woman.
She knew that she must not be idle.
Work and wages were now indispensable,
and site must not lost any time in return
ing to her place at the sewing-machine
in Gusset Fell's f.u-tory, provided she
could find employment wilh that firm.
The outlook was not an encouraging one
for Edith, but she res .lved that, come
urii.it iniiMit. the would meet tic- issue
bravely and as became a courasroous wo
man. All thesi thoughts passed through
her mind on the way back to the deso
late little home, in which she must
henceforth be the rulmir spirit.
Ned Newcomb, who sat beside Edith
on the way home, was not insensible to
the mental struggle by which she was
9wayed. Her anxiety, as mirrored in
the shadow upon her beautiful face,
touched his heart; but he knew nothing
of the greater shadow on her life which
was caused by the recollection of her ex
perience at Dick Dawson's, and tho
thought of that mysterious marriage of
which she had no actual knowledge, but
f which there existed writteu proof and
persons who claimed to be eye-witnesses.
"Edith," said Ned, when they were
back in the little parlor of her home, " I
know how hard it is to be cheerful when
the heart is sore, and how easy it is for
others to give us advice at such a time,
but after all is it not well to look for the
nlver lining of the cloud ? The present
may seem dark and cheerless, but there
is hope and happiness ahead. One who
'.ias passed through the very waters of
the Grimsby river and come back from
the brink of death, as you have done,
m confront life's lesser tri lls and lift
her face to the sunslrne. Edith if I may
speak as a friend, let me tell yo itotake
leave of despair. "
"If you may speak as a friend, dear
Ned! "she repeated, with a look of infi
nite tenderness from the depths of her
large, eloquent eyes, through which her
oul was shining. "And who ha-- a bet
ter risht to bo considered such? To
you, my best of friends. I owe my life,
and there is no living man to whose ad
vice I will more willingly listen. "
"Thank God for that, Edith!" he ex
claimed impulsively. Ho did not quite
understand the true import of her words,
nor did she realize the construction that
could be placed upon them until after
thev were uttered. Ned Newcomb felt
his pulse. beat with a quickened rhythm,
and lu' i bought the time had cowo for
himt loll Edith how earnestly, devoted
ly uus. dishly he loved her. He feared
at' first that the time was inopportune,
but hadn't she declared, herself, with
the frankness of her innocent soul, that
there was no living man to whom she
woiil S more willingly li?ten, and why
should he hesitate any longer to make
known to her the place she occupied
in hie life? Ho saw her color deepen,
and he felt his own heart thrilled by a
new rapture.
In that moment of ma'nctic, soul-kmd-ling
joy, Ned felt that E-iith divined hi
dearegt thoughts, and could translate
them, et the woids that iu. bed from
his heart to his lips, with their thrilling,
quiveiinr message, must have ultcmiice,
and lie said: " I cannot keep silent any
longer, Edith; I love you! Oh, pardon
me for sa ing it," he added, as he thought
he read a shadow of displeasure on her
face, " but I could not help it, Edith, in
deed I could liot. Since the first moment
we met your face lias been fiained in my
soul, day and nipht, and I could no more
help loving you than I can help breath
ing, so fr ntial t'oes it seem to my very
life. Spc..k, EJithrsay. do jou love me,
or can I hope for one kind word to tell
me I may yet have a place in your
heart ?"
Ned Newcomb did not intend to say so
much, but hi pent-up thoughts, having
once found an outlet, nke the deep lake
that break- through its banks, could not
be control d until the torrent of sub
lime passion that swept his soul had
poured its golden current forth.
"I like you ever So much; indeed I do,
and I should le an ingrate if I didn't,"
said Edith, "after your unselfish efforts
and sacrifices in my behalf." She
stopped suddenly. She was struggling
with a great emotion. Her love for this
brave, sti .u. r-ob'e-hearted iimr was
eureing through her soul fur exuression,
but the memory of that marriage at
Dawson's rose up in her mind like a
spectre to stand between her, and her
dearest thoughts, and choked back the
words she would like to say.
"Ah! I see you hesitate," he said; "you
don't like to say the words. But don't
spare me, Edith, don't sp'-ire me. E-eur-
ty as I hav... set my heart upon you, X
can endure the blow if you say you don't
love me. 1 can see how easy it is for a
kind-souled girl like you, to like a great
awkward fellow of my sort wit bout lov
ing hinx. You say you like me, but you
hesitate abont saying that yon don't love
me, because you don't de.-irv- to hurt my
feelings."
"Ah, Ned, don't talk that way," said
tho poor, distracted girl. "Every word
of yours is like a dagger-thrust to my
iieart. Did you but know all, and could
you but read my inmost thoughts, you
would be the very last in the world to
judge me hastily."
"Alas! I only know that you do not
love me, Edith," said Ned Newcomb.
""Well, be it so. It is not your fau't, nor
is it mine that I love you so dearly. I
shall try to bear the blow, but it is hard,
Edith. It is hard, my dear girl, to love
with such intensity as mine when it can
not be returned. Yet I sha'n t be selfish,
or churlish, or mean about it, if I can,
and if ever you need my services, why,
command me, and I will serve yu just
as cheerfully as if you had said to me,
'Ned, Hove you with all my heart.' I
should be selfish and cowardly, indeed,
if I could do otherwise. And now good
by! Pardon me fr bavins mentioned
this foolish matter to you, but I couldn't
help it, lass, indeed I could not."
Ned Newcomb rose to leave, and
reached out his hand. Edith's head was
averted, for she had been trying to hide
ihe tears that t ame faster than she could
control, while her luver was pouring
forth the sorrow of his keen and bitter
tiisappointment. Now she realized that
he was about to go away, perhaps for
ever, and it pained her to the heart to
i hink of it.
"Ned, Ned, (Ton't leave me in that
way," she sobbed. "I cannot bear to
have you go away in such a manner. I
did not think it would make you feel so
bad, even if I could not say I love you;
and oh ! I am at a hiss what to do."
"Do what your heart dictates, Edith,"
lie replied. "Have courage to say plain
ly that you don't love me, if such is the
case, and Ned Newcomb will never chide
you for it."
"ButI cannot say such a thing, Neddcan
not say it, for it would be false," she ex
claimed. "Then you do love me!" he cried,
clasping her in his arms. "Thank God!
Oh, Edith, how happy you have made
me, for now I know you will promise
that some day you will be my own little
wife my own Edith."
" Ah, Ned, I wish I could make you that
promise, but such a promise cannot be.
I can never be your wife, I fear."
"And you love me?
" With all my heart and soul."
Their lips met in the ecstasy of a pure
kiss, which, notwithstanding ""Edith's
words, filled Ned Newcomb's heart with
hope.
'"Tis heaven to know that I am loved,
Edith, and by you: but I do pot under
stand why you say you can never be my
wife. "Why can you uot make me such a
promise i "
"Don't ask me. I cannot, dare not,
trust myself to tell you now."
"I know,'" he said. "It is because of
your deep devotion to your father. Well,
I admire you for it; but it is not sufficient
to cause you to say that, although you
love me, you will never be my wife. I
can wait, Edith, five, ten, aye, for twen
ty years, if you say so, only do not bid
me despair altogether. Tell me, ia it lie
cause you fell that you ought to devote
your life like a loving daughter to an af
flicted father's care, that you insist on
saying that you can never be my wife ? "
" It is not that, Ned; it Is not that, but
because "
" Because you are pledged to another?"
he said, eagerly. "Is it, Edith? Is it
that which holds you back, and prevents
you from following your heart ? Can it
be that you have given your hand some
wher ethat your heart could never go?
Tell me, is it so? and I shall never speak
to you of love again."
His earnestness terrified her and almost
i.i,el hfr of the nower of speech. His
Pjissionato words, half chiding, half pro-
pheti.-, cot her to the heart, and-he was
on the p inl of telli.ig him all. when she
suddenly conceived the idea that w ere
lie to know he woul't pity and despise
her forever and she could not bear to
think ot that. At last she said:
" You w long me; indeed y,.ii do, Ned.
I oaunot teil you now whit has shaped
my decision; I ut I am not so unworthy
as to give my bund where my heart
oould never 1:0."
I W.l V.-i-niiili felt Hint Miei-e w'i irit.
mystery back of Edith's words, an 1 he
would g'.adly f.ithm it then and there
weie inch a thing possible. lie hesita
ted how to act, and wondered what was
best to do; and sayjunder the circum
stances, and at the sanv time do and say
what was ribt and rat'n.-T.al. There are
not many men who can pau.-eto think in
such a crisis. To ino!t of tis the sweet
ordeal of in. iking a declaration of love is
bound up with many awkward entangle
ments of the head and the heart. The
tongue: that ounht to be more eloquent
than ever before, almost forgets its of
fice: the brain, that ought to le at its
coolest in deciding si matter so momen
tous for life or death invariably burns,
and the pulses that ought to move in
measured cadence are enc-niMy in a
tumult. Ned Nt-vcomb was no excep
tion to the sons of men in this respect,
but he was a man of fine control of self,
and when he saw this lovely girl swayed
by emotion ami smitten by some sinister
thought that seemed to hold her from his
arms at the moment when his cup of joy
Mas full, sympathy took the mastery of
love in his heart and made him resolye
not to urge Gdith for an answer to the
great question of his life just then. In
deed, he felt like chiding himself for
having spoken of love to her at all at
such a time, when she was so sadly op
pressed by the weight of hfr great sor
row, but he coulii not now undo what
had been done. He could at least as-
j suage some of the lritternes of the situa
' tion, and he tried as best In kew how,to
do so; but he foun.. that no easy task.
"Forgive me. Edith, dear," he said,
taking her hand iu his, and resuming the
tone of tenderness in which he first
spoke to her of love. "Since there are
some things you cannot say, let th
words that have passed between us be as
if they had never been spoken, and you
will find that Ned Newcomb will never
Ipeak to j'ou of love again, and that he
Will, if you so desire, contiuue to be your j
faithful friend as heretofore." I
"It is hard to forget some things, Ned,"
she replied; "but for the present, at
least, or until such time as we can see
each other in a clearer light, I would
rather that the love between us find no
further expression."
"Then you think there i room for
hope ahead, Edith,,' he said, with a shin
ing face.
'Ah, who knows? The thorniest path
in life may lead to the smoothest high
way, and hope is a lamp that death alone
can extinguish."
"God bless you, J dith ! " and he pressed
the hand he held to his lips. "If you
aie in any trouble send for me," he add-
d, and in an ither minute he was gone,
leaving her sad and lonely.
She did not have much time to keep
company with her pensive thoughts, for
Ned Newcomb had been gone but a few
minutes when a knock at the door roused
her from her reveries, and gave her quite
a -tait, as she was notjexpecting visitors
je.-i then.
Mi! t the shock that Edith experienced
v. - "realer, when, on going to the door,
s!.e -nfronted a l 'ee which she hid hop
ed in was far awav a face that had been
her thoughts for some time, and that
had e 'Littered her life. It was the face
of Clarence Carson. He had evidently
b:en drinking, but he nevertheless ajv
peared conscious of his conduct. His
presence completely unnerved Edith,
and at first siizht of him she almost faint-
led;butshe summoned all her strength
to her aid, for she felt that she would
need it now, no matter what this man's
mission might be.
" May I come in." he said, touching his
hat with mock politeness, "nitd become
acquainted with my wife?"
" Your wife Ls not here, sir," said Edith,
with all the firmness at her command.
"1 beg your pardon," aid Clarence
Carson, enteiinr the room at the same
time, "hut I think you are mistaken.
Jud.e Ransom just informed me that she
is. and I think you'll agree with me that
the judge is pretty good authority."'
" I know nothing about his authority."
replied Edith, " and I care less for it.
The person you seek is not here."
Contempt of court, eh ? " said Carson,
with a sneer. "That's sometimes a -ieri-ous
matter. But never mind it now, my
dear. Your other mistake is greater in
saying the poison I seek is not here.
You will pardon me if I say that I have
the felicity ot addressing her at this very
moment."
Sir, I don't, I cannot understand you,"
said Edith: but Carson nonchalantly help
ed him-elf to a chair and pointing to an
01 her, -aid:
"Mrs. Carson, be seated, and let us
talk this little matter over quietly."
CIIAPTEE XVI.
rWZLCOME VISITOR.
DITn EDWARDS
hated and feared
this man Clarence
Carson, who had the
audacity to call her
his wife. Her spirit
v rebelled against the
meaning implied by
his words when he
addressed her as
"Mrs Carson," and
coolly invited her to sit and listen to his
conversation. She had hoped that he
was gone away, never to return, and his
pipsence chilled her. His talk was as
painful and disagreeable as a surgical
operation, and she would gladly order
him nut of the house if she knew that
would end it; but the thought 01 that
pvjsterious marriage ceremony, which
, hi, u y
Juihie lianom said was valid, ruse up iu
her mind and exerted a strange fascina
tion over her, similar to that with which
the mesmerist is said to control his sur
ject or the serpent charms the bird. In
her case it was principally the fax inu
tion of fear.
1 presume j'ou think it strange that 1
:d:uld add 1 ess you thus," said Clarence
Cursou, v. hen both wen seat, d, "but
what c uid le m.n natural, since we
ai e man and wife ? Otir courtr-hip was :i
little queer and s-omewhat stormy, I'll
allow, but it was. cruel ut you to let in go
alone on my honeymoon. Still, if we
truly love each other, we may be happy
-"
" Indeed. I do Hot love VoU," he SHld.
earnestly. "1 kn w nothing of this mar
riage you speak of. 1 was not con erned
in It, in any iiiiiuner. 1 was not pre cut
when it took pbiee, and 1 am n..t yout
wife. Mre than this. Mr. Carsn, I do
not want to be tormented in this way
any longer. It is time then wa- an end
of this grim and houibh- joke."
"A joke. Edith a joke! As I live, I
never was more earliest in my i;lc. Is it
possible that you will deny our iuirt ic'e -There
was not much style about the
ceremony, it rs tile, but it was just as
binding a if all the gay world of fashion
was present. Remember, there were
wituesss two of them beside Judge
Ransom. hose certificate I have bore."
As he ;-pokc he took the eel t'.fieate from
bis pocket and held it before her eyes.
"See," he said, "here is Ihe pro f that
you are truly my wife, Kd.ih. and that 1
am entirely justified .in calling you Mrs.
Carson."
" Where did you get that ?" --he aked,
as she saw it was the identical paper that
she took to Judge Ransom when she went
to ask his advice.
"From the judge himself, whom 1 saw
but a short time ago. He told me yon
had called on him, and that he advised
you the marriage was genuine. You
showed him this paf? r to examine, and
you forgot it. He gave it tome, seeing
that I also had a claim 011 it. You
that I am well fortified to assert my 1 i.-hts
as a husband, and you might a wcl
yield gracefully to the inevitable, ami
accompany inc. I am going across ih
tea., and I should dearly like to have yoi,
along. It would be just charming tr
cross the Atlantic on such a trip, then d'
London, Paris and Berlin together; ii
fact, see the world from the very hi;;a
est pinnacles of civilization. I sptak to
you now as your husband, as one who
ineerely loves you, what ever a cynical
world might say, and who will doubtless
prove a much better life-companion than
you expect. Come. Tdith, fling fear
away, take leave of hesitation, and bay
you will go with me."
"Mr. Carson," she replied, "I have
said that I am not your wife; I now say
that I never can lie. Choose among those
who are better fitted for your wealth and
station, and leave -ne to my own griefs
and cares. The two witnesses you speak
of that profess to have seen us married
are not entitled to any credence, and as
for that certificate, I am fully onvinced
in my heart that it is a forgery."
"Ah, take care, Edith," he said. " Take
care how you accuse Judg; Ransom of for
gery ! I tell you it is a very dangerou
thing to do. Your denials now are no
use, ami why not make the best of it?
You speak of my selecting one suited to
my wealth and so forth. That i- non
sense. What care I for wealth. M
fortune is assured, and after my uncle',
death I shall be a rich man."
" Your uncle's death ! 'she exclaimed.
"Yes."
" Can it be possible that you have not
yet heard the news ?" asked Edith.
"No: What can it bo? I came here in
haste. I have seen no newspapers. I
have not conversed with anybody but old
Judge Ransom, and fie was in a hurry.
What news is this jou refer to. Edith ?
Come, tell me, little wife, and season it
with a kiss."
As he spoke be approached her, and
reached out his arm to caress her. She
darted away from him with a little
scream, and said:
"In Heaven's name, be patieet nntill
you hear met! Unfortunate man, this i
no time for you to indulge in folly or
frivolity. Yonr-vnfl- s Jew !"
i'dith did not intend to be ho abrupt
in delivering the terrible message, but
she was compelled to do so in self-defense.
The blow was as telling as a
dagger-thrust. Clarence Carson stood
still as if turned to a statue of stone. The
lascivious leer left his face. IIi eyes
suddenly changed their look of eager
desire to a stony stare, and his entire
manner was altered.
"Great God. Edith !" he exclaimed, a.-
he trembled violently from head to foot,
" is what you tell me really true ? "
She paw his agitation, and, much as
he disliked him, her woman's heart
could not help feeling a pang of pity for
him. He had evidently received a
severe shock, and whether it was sorrow
nr surprise that moved him most in that
irrtm moment, Edith could not help
commiserating him.
"It is true," she said. " I thought you
could not help knowing it, and Dunking
o, was amazed to find that your mind
could obtain no lw tter occupation than
annoying a poor, friendless girl at such a
solemn time."
Clarence Carson was entirely sober now.
"Forgive me," he said, "forgive me for
this Intrusion. I was not aware of my
uncle's df-ath. I went away in haste. I
have lived in haste, and I came back m
haste to claim you. ut I was not aware
of this ealamitv Can yen tell me how
and when it occurred ?"
"On the night you went away, your
ancle was robled and beaten in his study.
He never regained e-onsciousness, I
understand, until he died."
Clarence' fingers clutched nervously
at space. He was dazed. He felt that
this must be some horrible nightmare,
tome coinage of the overwrought brain,
and that Edith's presence and voico
could not possibly bo a realit j, ner keen
we i.otieid Ins great ib-tress, and she
felt s 1 i v for hu itii; cau-ed him so much
pain i f 1 1 -. i 1 1 ! .
"And hI.ii i-i the 1 iininal I hat perpe
trated -noli :i d:i-lardlv deed?" asked
l.'la! i-nce, as -M-oji a- he oii'nl command
lltte ;i:,--e.
"N..'i..ily knov,-; tl.-.t -coins to le a
mytciy. Tic:v are all .-i t- of minor,
but there is nothing definite."
"My Coid: thi- i fearful !" he -aid, as
he paced the Jlo.r of the little pari, .r, in
gnat misery. But a few moments tx
foie he felt as poweiiul as a giant in
Edith's pre.-eiice. and soofTcd ut her
anguifh; now he was helpless a- a child.
Ihe thunderbolt had fallen in bis heart,
mid. like t he sinit ten oak. his head was
low.
Clarence's liit impulse was to ru-h out
and 1 1111 home a soon a, he heard of his
uncle s death, but a mighty spectre 10-e
i;; iu his mind and menaced him. Was
it remorse? Whatever it might be, it
checked hi haste, and s-et him thinking
thoughts that tortured him.
For several minutes he paced the tlorr.
Edith had taken a bouk, and was glanc
ing carelessly through its pages, but the
was not leading it. That was an im
possibility just then, with such a grim
r-tudy as Clarence Carson before her.
suddenly he halted in his movements,
paused a moment, and muttered audibly
(o himself, "Yes, I'll go theie," and
then taking up his hat, hastened from
the room.
After leaving Kdith so unoeiemoiiiou
ly, Clarence Carson walked ntpidly along
t he streets in the direction of his home
lie paid but little heed to those h" met,
mi I old acquaintances were chilled by
the coldness of his greeting, but they
were willing to make allowance for hi?
great grief.
But although lie gave little heed to the
people he met on the way to his uncle's
mansion, and his own hour. from child
hood, he was not without company.
His mind was peopled with a h'.-t ol
strange r-pectre-.. He thought of thi
blood upon his hands at D ck Dawson"-!,
Ihe night he paid Alice the great bet .-lie
j won 1 1'oni him w hile his mind was in a
fever induced by drink, and he hudder
id at the possible connection between
that horrible sight and his uncle's death.
Like all reckless men, j Clarence Carson
had his great moments of remorse a
well as his w ild scenes of pleasure, and
Ids burden grew greater as lie approac h-
cdthchoit-c in which he had been told
hi. nnele lay dead.
"Pshaw!! have no spirit," bethought.
' Tin as limp as a di-h-t ag: all my nerve.
are unsti ung, audi cannot go into ; hv
presence of t he dead in this cowardly
frame of mind. "
Ho paused at a corner, pulled hlu
llouch hat well over his forehead, and,
when many persons were not passing,
plunged into the side-dor of a saloon.
Tho bartender, who knew him well,
came forward with a smile, which was
speedilT turned to a serious look when
lie thought of the fact that Clarence's
uncle was dead.
"Ah, it's too bad, Mr. Carson ; it i real
ly too bad, " referring to the tragedy.'
"Yes, " answered Clarence, "it is ter
rible. Get me a good stifY dr.nk of bran
dy one that will put soul into me, Jim,
and be quick about it."
The bartender obeyed nimbly. While
he was getting the drink, a bright-faced
young man entered by the same door
that Clarence Carson had come in by, and
made his way throu-h the naimw pas
sage leading from the 'id: door to the
bar. He crowded t'larcnoe somewhat
closely in getting by, an 11 lion turned !
around very politely and looking him
straight in the eyes, said:
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Carson. I
didn't know this place was so narrow."
"Oh, don't mention it," snid Clarvnoe,
who fairly winced under the penetra
ting glance of the new-comer. The lat
ter seemed anxious to enter into conver
sation, but Clarence gave him no uoour
ngemcTit, and made no reply to his re
marks. The new arrival then passed on
to the bar, but not before bo gave Clar
ence a penetrating glance rir:t made him
feel vcrv uncomfortable-.
- "Who is that puppy?" slid Clarence,
when the bartender brought his dr ink.
"lies an insurance agent, s:r, but I
forget his name."
"And a very cheeky one, m wager.
He has eyes like gimlet1 and an unlimit
ed supply of gall. Iwonld ready like to
know the fellow's name, ju-t lor curios
ity. " adbd Clarence, who was about to
raise the glass to his lips.
'T. S iwyer, " said alow musical voice
it his side.
The glass dropped from Clarence's ner
vous grasp, and he said in a hoarse whis
per: "It's a confounded lie; you did 110 Mich
thing.''
It was all over in at!a-h. The g!a 1
was broken in fragments on the floor,
and the brandy, too, was. gene.
"I mean that my name is Isaac Saw
yer, eir, " said the insurance agent, rais
ing his hat iolitely. " You expressed a
wish to know, and I thought I wouid tell
joti. I hope I have not given offense in
cioing so. and since I am responsible for
mailing this Lrnr.Ij .ti'(, I tnit you
will permit me to replace-it with anoth
er. "
"No, sir; not by a long shot, " said Clar
ence, angrily. "I am able to buy my
own 'drinks and make my own jokes,
and I consider you very impertinent for
an entire stranger."
"Thank you; I trust you will think bet
ter of me on closer acquaintanc e, " said
Sawyer, bowing low and leaving the
place.
"That's the cheekiest fellow I ever
met," said Clarence as he drained the
seoond glass of brandy which the waiter
brought him.
" Oh, all them insurance fellows is, sir;
it's part of their business, " said the bar
tender; but Clarence's nervous condition
had not been improved any by the col
lision with tho detective.
To be Continued.'
A I.illU T l.wrytliiiic
London's police) force numbers
1 ',L"i7 men.
Onions an' selling for a cent a
busht'l Ht (itia.tofo, X Y.
London in to lim an exhibition
of ".int'ijut ami historical shoea."
A c:inv;i?back iluek i said to be
tbV to llv eighty miles an hour.
Tho cattle in tho vicinity of West
phalia, K., are 4lyinjj of brain fev
er" A prominent citizen, nrTPl $2, of
Dayton, Ten 11 . w i married recent
ly to a woman :N yearn old.
Tip f i ) 1 ioti ot carryinj; a tnutT
ila'e. .'Mil whs bark. Courtier
oie lln in in 1 1 tiin ot (Jaorge, J.
An Kiilihtn in has invented a
bonnet which can tie taken oil iu
the theatre, f'ohled up and lined as
a fan.
A id bill of Virginia State curren
cy, issued in 1777, is ;i curiosity iu
the possession of a Dalton, Ua.,
g-entlemau.
The 100. ton gun is not yet re
garded with great favor. The ma
jority of guns for new ironclads are
between sixty and seventy tons.
Not a snow plow has been nsed
on the Maine Central'the past wiu
ter a thing that probably never
occurred a winter before in the bisc
tory of the road.
A burglar, arrested iu Boston,
had on his breast an India ink pic
ture of a gravestone, on which was
marked : "In memory of my father
and mother."
A New Orleans minister says it u
afact that most sermons are dry
and sleepy, bnt the juicy ones are
always so eharply criticised that the
clergy avoid them.
The fees for ascend'ng the Eiffe
towe" are five francs to the top,
three francs to the second platform
and two francs to tne first. Tbe
three platforms will hold 10,000
people.
Despite the talk about Smith be
ing such a common name, those of
(ireen, White, Brown and Davis
bat it in the United States by 15
per cent. Even ".lohn'' is not so
common as "Joe "
One-thirtieth of the whole popu
lation of Iceland emigrated last
year, moved, ir is sai l, by the un
popularity of the Dabisli Govern
ment and the blandishments of Ca
nadian emigration agents.
Out in a backwoods town in Indi
ana last", week the Sheriff left tbe
court room for dirme-, forgetting
a'l about" hi prisoner, who after,
ward leis'irely walked off and bai
not sine been captured.
In a case at law in Illinois the
other av it was shown that a worn
an whipoed her boy so that he was
m bed for tlir-e weeks, because he,
could not commit fifty Bible verses
to memory in obe week.
A well known English aitresa is
angry b"cause a manufacturer of
falfje teeth lias placarded his town
with pictures representing her "be
fore and after" 'along a set of hii
famous teeth . The "before" por
trait is the on which makes her
angry.
A discussion as to th) bight of
trees in the forests of Victoria has
j elicited from lUrou von Muellor,
'the government botanist, the htate
i ment that he Srtw one of tho higbt
of 52f fret. The Inte chief inspect
J or of forests measured one fallen
and found 5 hat it was 485 feet long.
j Ad old saddle which b&d been
kicking around in a Nashville bar-
ne.s shop for several years was
ripped up the other day and found
to contain $1,800 iu confederate
money. It' the owner of the shop
cotdd only have found the prize in
March, 1SC5, he could have bought
a breakfast and three cigars.
Henry M. Stanley, before start
ing on his present journey to Africa
placed allot bis literary effects in
tbe bunds of Mrs. Fiench Sheldon,
of New Yolk, who h is long been
one of his best fiiends. The last
letter which was received from him
in this country was addressed to
her and contained some final in
structions concerning his corres
pondence, which were writteu with
the idea that he might never return