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Upshaw, our “booze fighter”, sail into
the saloons with both feet up here. I
expect it would be interesting.
I know only one of our Household
personally; that one is George W.
Wheeler, of Hattiesburg, Miss., who
is poet, philosopher, editor and promi
nent Woodman, and a finer character
would be hard to find.
“Bachelor Ben,” can’t you give us
something on love? And “Mizpah”,
we are looking for something from
you. “H. B.”
Stomach Troubles
Horsford’s Acid Phosphate
Produces healthy activity of weak
and disordered stomachs. An unex
celled strength builder.
THE SUBSTANCE AND THE
SHADOW.
When John Vining married pretty,
frivolous Cora Murray, it seemed to
Margaret Mowbray that the world was
just a blank, for the whole love of her
pure, true heart had been given to
him, and given in vain.
After five years of married life Cora
was the same gay butterfly; so when
TRIAL AND TRIUMPH
(Continued from Page 3.)
the phaeton, whose side he had just
quitted. A pang of jealousy went
through her. Stanley took no notice
of her. He turned to say good-bye to
Sylvia and shook hands wih her over
the side of the carriage.
“Where is Faith?” asked Charley.
We took her home —with her fath
er,” Sylvia answered coldly. She re
sented any neglect of Faith on Char
ley’s part.
He himself felt conscience-stricken.
Faith had been in trouble; she had
needed him, and he had failed her —
for the first time. Yet it was a relief
to find that he could not tonight, tell
her of his approaching marriage to
Anabel Boylan. The telling must be
put off until tomorrow.
King had gone to take his place in
the carriage, which had brought him
to the park. It was waiting for him —
so a little negro messenger from
Squire Ballister told him. Glenn help
ed Anabel to a seat in the phaeton
with Sylvia. In reply to Sylvia’s look
of surprise, he said:
“Miss Boylan is going home with us.
She will pay us a long visit. I will
tell you about it tomorrow.”
Sylvia was too much startled and
disconcerted to speak at first. She
could only murmur after a short si
lence.
“This is a very unexpected pleas
ure.”
She knew that what she said was
not sincere. It would be no pleasure
to have Miss Boylan in her quiet home.
She did not like her; she never would
like her, she felt sure. Out of affec
tion for Charley she would show cour
tesy to his guest. But why—why had
he invited Belle Boylan. Was it pos
sible he had fallen in love with her?
No, no, he would never be disloyal t-o
Faith. But what did he mean by in
viting this beautiful stranger to Sun
set Lodge—and for a “long visit?”
It was nearly midnight when they
drove up. to Charley Glenn’s home on
the outskirts of the village. All was
still in the big, old-fashioned house.
All was dark save for the gleam of a
solitary lamp and the moonlight that
silvered the white pillars of the porch,
and the walls and tall chimneys, thick
ly mantled in Virginia Creeper.
The solitary lamp was burning in Dr.
Glenn’s study, where the good minis
ter was getting up his sermon for to
morrow —Saturday—the opening day
of the “Quarterly Meeting.”
Though no longer regularly in the
ministry, he was always invited to
preach pn important occasions, and his
talks from the pulpit, full of love and
smallpox broke out in the village, no
one was surprised at her hurrying
away, though John was one of the first
victims.
Dr. Brown was almost in despair,
for the neighbors were too busy with
their own sick to nurse the deserted
husband. But when Margaret heard
of the case she came and offered to
nurse him, and the doctor knew if
good nursing would pull him through,
he would get well. And he did.
One morning, when all danger had
passed, the doctor entered the sick
room with a telegram in his hand.
“From your wife,” he said. “She
wants me to let her know when all
danger is over, so that she may come
home.”
After the doctor had left the room,
John cried:
“Oh, Margaret, Margaret! what a
fool I was! I threw away the sub
stance and held the shadow. I ”
“Hush!” she interrupted. “You
must not say such things to me. I
will not listen to them.”
Two weeks later, Margaret-—the
smallpox's last victim —was buried.
ADAM R. HOPPER.
(§§§)
charity, always drew a large congre
gation.
Strange and lonely, the big dark old
house seemed to Anabel Boylan. She
shivered as she entered the wide dim
hall, and Glenn declared she must have
a comforting cup of tea before she
went upstairs to bed. Lamp in hand,
he led the way to the dining roem,
where they found the tea table ready
set, with sliced bread and butter and
raspberry jam upon it.
In the kitchen adjoining there was
a kettle steaming on the stove in
which there was still a fire. Sylvia
soon placed the “comforting cup” be
fore the guest, and after it had been
partaken of the daughter of the house
led the way up stairs to the guest
chamber.
At the foot of the stairs, Charley
said good-night to his bride-to-be, with
only a tender pressure of her hand. He
shrunk from letting Sylvia know of the
relation that had been established so
suddenly between him and this girl,
whom he had never seen until today.
He could not speak of it to her tonight.
He put off the trying hour until tomor
row.
In a little while, he heard the door
of his father’s study open, and Dr.
Glenn appeared in his dressing gown.
“I must tell my father what I have
done: I can not rest until I have told
him,” thought Charley, nerving him
self for the ordeal.
Dr. Glenn began asking about the ex
cursion party—and the day’s doings.
Charley told him of the more import
ant guests and of the fete in the park.
He even spoke of Miss Boylan and told
that she was staying at the Lodge to
night, but when he tried to tell his
father that this stranger would be his
wife tomorrow, his tongue refused to
speak.
“I will wait until he has seen her,”
he said to himself at last, and soon
after the father and son bade each oth
er good-night. Charley went to his
room and slept. Men can sleep even
on the brink of a fateful crisis, but to
Anabel, this first night under the roof
of the home of which she was to be
Mistress, was almost a sleepless one.
Haunted by regrets and foreboding she
tossed restlessly on the big comforta
ble bed, until nearly dawn.
CHAPTER X.
The sun was shining brightly when
Anabel awoke. She opened her eyes
and looked around bewildered at the
strange room, the rich, faded curtains,
the dark, old furniture. Then recol-
Jection flashed upon her, and with it
(Continued on Page 14.)
The Golden Age for September 22, 1910.
CDCt TH Vnil MV QIQTCD Fr®® to You and Every Sister Sus-
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11
