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A DEAD HOPE. Written for the Morning \flrs. Tread softly when you reach that sunless region Deep in my heart, Which hides from thoughts whose name is Legion, A thing apart. Tread softly, tis true the dead sleep soundly, From dreams quite free, Yet sleep my beauteous dead ne’er so pro foundly I'd have you be. Gentle indeed, when you draw near that pallid presence And lift the sheet. To look upon the passionless dead face of her Who made my life sweet. And if you start in awe at the unearthly beauty Of that dead face: Think what it must have been while life yet lent it Bewildering grace: Think of the eyes, whose steady tender shining, Soothed pain to rest. The voice, when music drowned life’s harshest discords Within my breast. ft The strange, glad smile that turned into day All shadowy places, Whose mere reflection lent a brighter beauty To other faces. The subtle, sweet thrill that passed through all my being. And which yet lingers. That once was mine thro’ the mere magic touch Of these marble fingers. Too late for tears! And, yes—a blest Faith whispers That in a brighter land. Haply I’ll find my one sweet hope who perished By your own hand. —Pats. MORNING NEWS LIBRARY NO. ‘2B. SomancF of iuchmonK BY WALTER M. RICHMOND. Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. Estill. CHAPTER XIX. Farewell Thou has (rampled love's faith in the dust; Thou has torn from my bosom its hope and its trust. — Hoffman. It. was the first day of August. Charlie, in company wit h two of bis min isterial associates, had left two days before for a five-weeks’ sojourn among the Cats kills. His mother and sister were to leave for the White Sulphur on the morrow. Mrs. Woodbury had finished packing her trunk, and was now assisting Florine in jiacking hers, and, as the two was thus en gaged, the elder lad} - suddenly exclaimed; "My, deal-, you don’t look happy to-day. Are you feeling unwell? Or are you sad because you are going to leave Virgil? lam sure be has promised to spend every other Sunday with ' -a.” Florine was silent for a minute; then ex claimed: “Oh, mother, I had such a horrible dream last nigat, and it has troubled me all the morning.” “A dream!” said Mrs. Woodbury, laugh ing lightly. "Surely you would not allow such a tUi\-<, to worry you ? It is only ig norant peopii, my dear child, that are har rassed by dreams and signs. But can you not relate this dream that has thrown such a damper upon your usually gay spirit?” With a shudder Florine said; “I dreamed that I was seated in the par lor awaiting the appearance of Virgil, when suddenly the door was thrown violently open, and he rushed in the room, and, oh, mother, his face and hands were dyed with blood. “ ‘Oh, you false, wicked woman 1 you heartless flirt!’ he exclaimed, shaking his fingers at me. ‘You have done it all, and 1 hate you with all my heart,’ and he started to strike me. but in the attempt fell to the floor, and, with an awful groan, died. Ob, mother! mother! It was just horrible!” and the speaker hid her face in her hands gnd shuddered from head to foot. Mrs. Woodbury, too, felt a thrill of horror creep over her frame, but, assuming a smile, presently said in a playful voice: "Perhaps, my daughter, you have a sen sational novel concealed beneath your pil low, and are in the habit of reading a chap ter or two before retiring at night.’’ Florine’s lip: curled contemptuously. “Do you think the affianced wife of Vil gil Paine would so sully her womanhood as to read a novel whose tone was immoral or plot improbable? No, mother,” she added, in a gentler tone. "I read nothing last night. After parting with Virgil, I retired directly, and 1 assure you I never felt hap pier in my life as I dropped off to sleep,” By noon the two ladies had finished their task. • Mrs. Woodbury took up a palm leaf fan, and the morning paper. Passing into her own boudoir she threw herself upon a lounge and began a diligent search for the White Sulphur letter. Florine descended to the library, and, tak ing up a book she had been reading the day before, tried to become interested in the contents, but, failing to do so, she petulantly tossed it aside and restlessly walked up and down the floor. A vigorous ring of the bell suddenly startled her, and, scarcely kn wing what she was doing, she rushed out in the hall. "It was only the postman, Miss Florine,” said the footman, coming toward her. “A letter for you.” Florine took the letter from the servant's hand and returned to the library. "I wonder whom it is from?” she ex claimed, as her eyes dwelt for a moment upon the superscription, which was written in a beautiful Spencerian hand. “It is post marked Springfield, Mass., July 22. Good ness! It ought to have reached me more than a week ago. I wonder what could have delayed it so?” By this time she had broken the seal. The contents of the letter ran thus: “Springfield, Mass., July 21,18—. “My Angelic Darling— l actually cursed the fate that compelled me to leave you as soon as we landed in New Yyrk, for 1 was thus cheated of two days of your so ciety. After five weeks of intense' suffer ing, my grandfather died day before yester day, leaving my cousin, Anthony Crane, and myself a million and a half each, the estate being valued at three millions. A million and a half! Just think how wealthy lam! You will live like a queen, won’t you, darling? Oh, Florine, heaven alone knows what I have suffered since we part ed. You don’t know how wearily time has and ragged by. The past 11 vo weeks has seemed a century. I am thinking of you always, my sweet. You occupy my whole thoughts when I am awake, and when I fall asleep you are hovering like an angel over my pil low. God bless you, my beautiful, black eyed queen! Ob, 1 cannot llie without you! Do you remember the delightful promenades we used to have on deck on our voyage to America? Shall I forget the night—that lieautiful, moonlight night— when I asked you to be my w ile ? Shall I evor forget how you raised your glorious orbs, so lull of love, to mine, and promised in accents, sweet and low, to become my bride? I know darling, you have been lone ly and, oh, so wretched without me. 1 am coming to see you in a few days, and then we will acquaL.it your mother with our be trothal. “My cousin, Anthony Crane, is going South with me. He is very anxious to see you, as I speak so often and glowingly of you. “1 must bring my epistle to a termina tion now. Au re voir, my angel. “I am, lovingly and eternally yours, “Wallace Marvin.” “How foolish and love-sick!'' muttered the girl, as she proceeded to tear the disgust ing letter in tiny bits. “1 thought he had forgotten me by this time. I wonder if the poor, white-headed mail is conceited enough to think 1 am really in love with him, or ■would ever become his wife? 1 wouldn’t marry the msignificicant, self-important wretch if he possessed all tbe wealth of the New England States! There was a tune, however, in my iife when money held a great charm for me. But that time has passed away, i would rather be Virgil Paine’s wife, with just enough money to keep me in comfort, than to be any other man's wife, even though ho had the wealth of the Rothschilds at his command! That fellow has a lot of impudence to think of coming here, hasn’t he? I hope if ho dares to do such a thing the train will run off the track, or something else wiil happen to pre vent his coining.” Then, seized with repentance for such ut terances, she exclaimed to herself a mo ment afterward; “Oh, what a wicked wretch I am! Am I not to blame for it all? Did I not lead this fair fellow to believe that I loved him? Did not do everything to make him fall in love with me? Did I not even promise to be his wife, although I had no idea of ever doing so? Ah, how Virgil would be shocked if he knew how I hud flirted with this man and ■vith scores of others! Ido believe his love for me would turn to hatred! No longer than yes e-day he expressed his detestation of coquettes, and declared that no honora ble man or woman would stoop to so con temptible a practice as flirting. Ah, if he knew what a heart less coquette I have been! Good Lenl! Suppose he should meet Mar vin, aud hear from the man’s lips how ridiculously I have carried on with him! That dream, oh, heaven 1” and a frightened look came into the girl’s eyes. Directly after leaving England Floriue became acquainted with the writer of the above letter. He was the only single man among the passengers, and, to render the voyage less monotonous, she at once began a flirtatiou with him. He soon lella victim to her charms, and, before the steamer was half way across the Atlantic, confessed his love, and daily thereafter pressed his suit until at last Fiorine, in fun, as couqettes often do, promised to become his wile, al though she had not the least intention of ever keeping her promise. Ou arriving in New York, he was met by his cousin, An thony Crane, who informed him of the seri ous illness of their grandfather. Though it was like tearing his heart from his breast to thus part from the woman he so passion ately loved, and who he belieyed loved him in return. Marvin felt it his duty to de part at once for home, and so, in company with his cousin, left immediately for Spring field, Mass. The parting did not cause Fiorine the least pain. On the contrary, she was glad to get rid of him, for before they had reached the end of the voyage she had grown weary of his society, and longed to make new couquests. “Thank heaven! he is gone—tbe insuf ferable bore!”she muttered, a few minutes after his departure. “He is the softest crab I ever saw! What a fool I made of him! In a month or two he will be the plaything of some other coquette, and be fawning at her feet! Ido hate suen men, although it does me good to take advantage of their weakness ” With these words Fiorine dismissed Mar vin from her thoughts, cariug little whether she ever saw or heard of him again. No wonder that the above letter, announcing his purpose of coming to Rich mond, should have alarmed the young lady, who, since her betrothal to him, had prom ised her baud in marriage to another man. What if the two men should meet? “If Virgil should discover how false I have been to this man,” she moaned, wring ing her hands, “wouldn’t he think that i was false to him also? O, if the two should meet 1 If the two should meet 1 Good Lord, have mercy upon me!” The bell startled her again. She did not rise this time, but sat trembling like a cul prit on whom the dread sentence of the court is soon to be pronou nc'-d. The visitor was Virgil. Through the open door she heard him say to the foot man: “Good morning, Tom. If Miss Fiorine is in, will you please to give her my card and say to her that I desire her presence in the parlor at once. I’ll detain her only a few minutes.” “What on earth does he want?’ said the girl to herself. “I have never yet had a visit from him at this hour of the day. Oh, mv Lord, suppose that simpleton Marvin, learning of our engagement, has written to Virgil. I wish I were dead! I am so un happy!” At this moment Tom, poking his head into the library, handed her Virgil’s card and, delivering the latter’s message, bowed and withdrew. She arose, threw the bits of paper out of the window, and, with a wildly-beating heart, made her way to the parlor. As she entered the room Virgil advanced toward her, warmly pressed her hand, and, after the usual salutation, said: “Fiorine, I have been called to Powhatau court house on some very important, busi ness, and must leave for that place on the 1 o’clock packet. As I shall be unable to return before you leave for the springs I have called to bid you good-by.” “Which was very kind of you,” replied the young lady, reassured by his manner that nothing had occurred so far to de throne herself in his affections. “I hope you will have a good time at the White Hulphnr,” continued the young law yer, “and that you will meet with no man whose good looks and fascinating manners will cause you to repent of our engage ment.” “There isn’t living a man handsome or fascinating enough to rival you in my af fections, Virgil,” said Fiorine, with a ten der smile. “My darling!" and he reverently raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. A moment's silence ensued. Then Virgil said: “I must go now, Fiorine.” “Why, Virgil, you haven’t been here three minutes.” “Well, 1 came only to bid you good-by.” he replied. “I cannot visit you before the lfith—two weeks from to-morrow—and un til then I shall expect a letter at least twice a woek, and long lettere at that— not less than two whole sheets of foolscap Tell Mrs. Woodbury good-by forme, for I haven’t a minute more to lose. Good-by, my dear.” Lovingly be drew her to his bosom; fond ly he gazed on the dark, beautiful face upturned to his. Once, twice he pressed his lips to hers. Then pausing for a half min ute, as if loth to leave her, he was about to kigs her again, when the door was thing vio open, and a .short, stout, liglit-com- Sued man rushed into the room and abruptly before the lovers. The intruder was Marvin. Fiorine uttered a low frightened scream and buried her face on Virgil’s breast. “Becalm, Fiorine,”said the young law yer, in his gentlest tones. Then, turning to Marvin, he said angrily: “What do you mean, sir, by this intrusion? Look how you have frightened this young lady! What is the meaning of your strange conduct? Speak, or I’ll lead you to the door! The servant, I am sure, did not usher you in here unannounced.” Marvin glared savagely at our hero “No one ushered me in here,” the former replied. “As I was about to ring the bell, I heard Florine’s voice through the ojien window, and, creeping up to it, I saw you, you scoundrel, with her in your arms, and your lips pressed to hers.” “And wliat if you did, sir?’ demanded Virgil. “1 should like to know what Flo rine Morriss is to you?’ “She is my affianced wife.” “Your affianced wife!” refloated our hero, staring at Marvin as though ho thought the mau a lunatic. “Yes my affianced wife, and as sure as l am living I mean to have your heart’s blood, you scoundrel!” Such threats did not at all frighten Vir gil. Marvin was not the first bully he had ever seen. Richmond, as well as other places, had her full share of men of this stripe. “Fiorine,” said the young lawyer, raising the girl’s head from his bosom. "Fiorine! Do you know this man? Is what ho says time?” Tbe girl made no reply save a wild, agon ized look. “Of course she knows me,” said Marvin, promptly. “We came from England to THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1887. America on the same steamer. A mutual love sprang up between us, and before half our voyage was ended wo were engaged.” “Fiorine, is this man telling the truth?” said Virgil, urniug again to the girl. “Oh, Virgil! Have mercy upon mo!” she wailed, hiding her face again on his bosom. “Why don’t you answer me, Fiorine?” he sternly demanded. “Did you ever prom ise to become this man’s wife? “I—l did,” she faltered. All tenderness faded from Virgil’s face, and a look of contempt settled upon his features. He roughly pushed her from him as though she had been a reptile. “And you have been flirting with me these five weeks, have you?' he cried, his eyes blazing with anger. “Such smiles and tender words were the baits by which you drew me into your trap. Fiorine Morriss, five minutes ago I loved you with all my heart—now I loathe you! I have the utmost contempt for flirts, as I have told you be fore. I despise dishonorable people!” “Oh, Virgil! Virgil! Don’t speak so! My heart, oh, my heart is breaking!” wailed the poor girl. “It was he”—pointing to Marvin—“l flirted with! I couldn’t have flirted with you You threw an awe over me from the first. Virgil, you are the only man I ever loved or the only one I could ever love! Oh, Virgil, don’t look at me so scornfully, so angrily! Dou’t you believe I love you ?” “Flbrine, I cannot trust you,” he said, with more of sadness than of anger in his voice. “My love for you is dead!” “Have mercy upon me! My heart is breaking!” "Hearts like yours don’t break so easily,” was the scornful reply. “A week or two’s flirtations at the springs, I dare say, will entirely heal your breaking heart.” “Fiorine,” said Marvin, at this juncture, holding out his arms toward the girl. “Surely you don’t love that heartless man! No, no, you don’t love him! He has only fascinated you, as a serpent fascinates a bird. Come back to me, my darling, your first love, and all shall be forgiven!” “Leave me! Leave me!” raved Fiorine, pointing to the door. “Then you really love him—that pusil lanimous puppy?” shaking his finger at Vir gil- Every vestige of color faded from Vir §i)’s face. Forth from his magilifieent eyes ashed the fire of jstifiable anger. In stantly his fists were clenched, and forget ting where he was—forgetting all save the insult offered—he struck the man who stood before him two terrible blows in the breast. When Marvin had regained his breath, he shook his fist in Virgii’s face and said with an oath: “You wouldn’t dare strike a man your size, you strapping coward!” “Little men ought to mind how they in sult large men,” exclaimed our hero, who found it difficult to refrain from striking Marvin again. Marvin uttered an oath. “i wouldn’t strike a man in a lady’s par lor. We’ll settle this upon the field of honor,” he exclaimed, his throat expanding and straightening himself up to his full height, “and before this time to-morrow I mean to have your heart’s blood. Do you hear, sir? ” “I certainly hear and understand,” coolly replied Virgil Marvin uttered another oath. “Can you give me your address?’ he asked. “Certainly,” answered the young law yer, regarding him with superb disdain. “My address is second floor, - building, Main street, near the post office. ” CHAPTER XX. 'Tis hard, indeed, if nothing ivill defend Mankind from quarrels, but their fatal end; That now and then a hero must decease. That the surviving world maj live in pe e. Perhaps, at last, close scrutiny may show The practice dastardly, and mean, and low; That men engage in it, compelled by force, And fear, not courage, is its proper source; The fear of tyrant custom, and the fear Lest fops should censure us, and fools should sneer, At least to trample on our Maker's laws, And hazard life for any or no cause. —Cowper. Six o’clock! As two of the town bells simultaneously chimed forth the hour, Vir gil arose from the lounge on which he had been lying for the last half an hour aud be gan to pace the floor. All arrangements for a duel between him self and Marvin were completed, and at sunrise on the morrow the two were to meet on the so-called “field of honor.” Oh, what would the next twenty-four hours bring forth? Would tt o’clock of to-morrow after noon find him cold in death, or, mor than that, would it find him a murderer ? Heaven forbid! All on a sudden he realized the horror of his situation —the sinfulness of the step he was about to take. Perspiration came out in great cold drops upon his brow; a wild, miserable look settled upon his face, and from his lips issued forth a deep groan. Oh, what a terrible mistake he had made! What a reproach he had cast upon Chris tianity by accepting a challenge to light a duel! Why had he not returned the chal lenge to the parvenu who had sent it and thrashed him for his insolence? If he should kill his antagonist could he ever bo happy again? Aud if he himself should be killed, what hope would he have of enter ing into that “rest that remaineth for the people of God,” when he had gone upon the duelling field with a murderous intention? Would be ever be found among “that great multitude of all nations and kindreds and people and tongues that stand before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with robes and with palms in their hands?” Never! “Oh, God, don’t forsake me!” he cried, with a tortured, imploring glance upward. Then, scarcely knowing what he was do ing, he put on his hat and passed down into the street. Up Main to Cherry, down the latter street to Hollywood, he wended his way, as if drawn by an irresistible Impulse, until he stood beside his mother's tomb. He wijied the perspiration from his face and stood a moment in perfect silence. Then as tbe sweet face of his mother arose before him —or rather seemed to rise—he dropjied upon the curbing and wept unre strainedly for more than five minutes. The sorrows of his boyhood could not he com pared with the misery he now endured. Those sorrows had arisen from the sins of another. His present anguish sp ting from the consciousness that he was about to break one of his Maker’s commandments. The rays from tiie setting sun streamed througb the branches of a majestic oak and fell in soft, golden arrows on the words on Mrs. Fames monument, “And Her Rest Shall Be Glorious.” it lie should no kdied by ins antagonist, would his rest bo glori ous? If lovmg friends should erect above his sleeping do t a monument, could they appropriately carve tnc eon the words, “And liis Rest Buail Be Glorious?’ Asms conscience was putting these and other questions to him, V’irgU heard a quick step near him. He turned and saw Pauline coin ing swiftly toward him. Her face was as white as ta marble tombs about her; her eyes wore a troubled expression, aud her whole manner told at a glance that she was in a state of great agitation. “Oh, Virgil! Virgil!” she exclaimed, and with his name upon her lips she dropped on the curbing be-ide him aud buried her face in her hands. “ What is the matter, Paulie ?” he inouired, kindly. “Has aynthing frightened you? Has anybody dared to insult my little sis ter?’ “Oh, no,” she answered, looking up in his face. “Virgil, is it timer “Is what time, Pauline?” “That vou have so far forgotten Christ and Ins religion ns to think of resorting to the barbarous code as a means of obtaining satisfaction for an insult?’ Virgil did not reply at once. “Answer me, Virgil Paine!” cried the girl, provoked at his silence. “Oh, Virgil, is it so ?' “It is, Pauline,” he replied, with a pained expression. “But what busy body has been meddling himself with my affairs'!” “1 called on Flonne an hour ago, and found her heart-broken. Poor girl! Who told mo of all her trouble, and ox presses! her fears that the diuicußy between you and Marvin would end in a duel. As soon as she id, mated such a thing, I started to your office to remonstrate with you against engaging in a duel. On my way down town 1 came suddenly in contact with Dr. Evans and Mr. Wnrde at tbe corner of Fourth and Franklin. They wore chi vers ing very low and earnestly. These words, however, fell upon my hearing as I passed them: “ ‘We must keep the matter a profound secret to avoid arrest.’ “I knew what they meant, aud the re mainder of the way I fairly ran. W r beu l reached your office Uncle Jerry informed me you had just gone out. As i reached the pavement 1 saw you three blocks ahead, and, determined to see you or die in the at tempt, I followed you out here.” She paused and gasped for breath. “Paulie, you have needlessly fatigued yourself. Allow me to fan you with my hat.” "No, I thauk you. All the hats and fans in the world could not cool me now," she re plied, dryly. “Oh, Virgil, dou’t engage in this duel. Take Fiorine again to your heart. She acted dishonorably in flirting with Marvin. But can you not forgive her for her past weaknesses? She never flirted with you. She loves you dearly. Take her back to your heart. Wifi you not, Vir gil?’ "Never. Pauline,” he answered, (Irmly, yet in an ineffably sad voice. “I can liver trust her again. Ah, Pauline, if all women were like you—pure and honorable-there would be tew duels fought.” “And if all men had sense and discretion, there would be no duels fought,” quickly replied the young lady. “Virgil, you regard me as you would a sister, do you not ?’ “1 do, Paulie. As you sit beside me now you seem nearer to my heart thun you ever did before;” and he took her hand in his own. “Florine’s shallow, dishonorable na ture renders your character doubly pure and bright. Ah, little sister, if all women were like you; You are a good, true woman. But-, Pauline, why did you ask that question just now? Did you think 1 had suddenly lost faith in womankind? Did you think me so narrow-minded as to judge all your sex by your cousin ?” “If you look upon me as a sister, you will heed what I say,” she said, taking no no tice of his queries. “Reconsider this mat ter and witudraw your acceptance of the challenge.” “Would you have me branded as a cow ard ?” “Who would brand you as such? Only fops aud bullies —t he class of men you have always denounced in the severest terms, and as to whose opinion you have hitherto been utterly indifferent. Ah, Virgil, a great revolution has suddenly taken place in your nature! You seem now to fear tbe censure of these moil more than that of Christian men. If you will obey my wish, I assure you that all noble-minded, Christian peop e will admire you for your manliness. Did you not strike Marvin at the time for the insult? How could they then call you a coward? Why do you propose to resort to the barbarous custom of dueling, which generally results in the death of on antagonist and in rendering the surviving one a miserable, conscience-haunted mau for the remainder of his days? Ah, if I had been a man, and a Christian one, too, I would manfully have returned the challenge unopened.” “Didn’t your father and mine fight a duel in their early manhood?” asked Virgil, “Were they upstarts or bullies? Weren’t they high-toned, honorable young men?” “I presume so. But they were not Chris tians. Papa did not embrace Christianity until I was 10 years old, and I have heard you sav your father never became a Chris tian. You see now, Virgil.it is different with you. You profess to be a Christian, and have been such ever since you were 14 Sears old, at which age you say you were aptized and received into the fellowship of the church. Oh. Virgil, how vour poor mother's heart would be wrung with anguish now if she were living! You loved her very dearly, and her memory is very sacred to you. You would like to meet her again. The hope of a reunion in heaven cheered you when God took her from you, and through the years that have pass 'd since her death tiiis blessed hope has shown with un diminished lustre. It you should be killed in this duel in which you propose toengago, do you think you would meet her again, when you went upon the‘fieid of honor,’as it is called, with murder iu your heart? Doubtless were your mother living, her tears and entreaties might dissuade you from your mad purpose. May I not speak for the dead? Oh, Virgil, Virgil —for the sake of her who is no longer with her boy to keep him from evil—for the sake of Mil ton, your innocent, beautiful little brother, who loves you so devotedly, and whom you love with equal devotion—for tlie sake of your little sister—for the sake of your many friends, and, above all, for the sake of your soul’s welfare, cancel your acceptance of that challenge.” She paused, her cheeks flashed with ex citement, her blue eyes filled with tears. There were also tears in the young lawyer’s eyes. He took her hand again in his own and said: “Paulie, you have completely unnerved me. Your eloquent pleading lias moved mo deeply ; but still, litt.e sis er, I cannot act as you wish mo to do. I must meet Marvin on the dueling field, and abide tiie result.” He uttered a heavy groan as he ceased speaking. Pauline withdrew her hand from his clasp, and, with flashing eyes, said: “I might have known it was useless to argue with one of your inflexible will. I might as well have attempted to persuade the tombs about me to turn to snow. But 1 thought I might jiossibly prevail with you to abandon your wicked purpose. As I have failed, however, in my mission, I will go now.” She arose as she finished speaking. “No. Pauline, not until Igo Sit down a moment, please!" The unhappy face of the man she loved touched her heart. She complied with his request. “Oh, Virgil, my poor, misguided brother,” she cried, as her whole soul went out in ten derness to the uuhanpy man. “My heart bleeds for you, my poor, poor friend! If you should kill Marvin i sUouid never be happy again; and if he should kill you—” She stop[ied suddenly, unable to finish the sentence, and, burying her face iu her hands, sobbed piteously. “And if I should be killed, what tbon, little sister?’ inquired Virgil, with u sigh. “Oh, don’t talk of it!” she answered. “Come, let us go. The sun has set.” The two arose. Virgil offered her his arm, which she accepted, and for several minutes they walked on in silence. At length the young lady turned to her com panion aud asked: “Does Milton know anything about this dreadful affair?” “No. You know be went with a crowd of other children on a picnic early this morning and has been gone all day. Con sequenlly, he is ignorant of what has hap pened. Poor lit-tio folio wl” The young lawyer wiped a tear from his eye and said: “Pauline, I wish to say a few words in re gard to Milton. You love him very dearly, do you not?’ “If he were my own brother my affection for tbe child could not be greater.” “And he loves you, doesn’t he?’ “Yes; I have every reason to believe that bo ilops “Well, then, Paulie, if I should fa 1 in this duel will you promise me that you will take him—my poor little brother whom I love so dearly—to your hoart and home, guide him with your counsel, remember him always in your prayers, see iat lie is i lior oughly educated, and, above all other things, will you do all in your power to keep nun— my now pure, innocent brother—from the corrupting influence of reckless and wicked youtlis. Pauline, lam a poor man. 1 have no money, as you know, save that which my Practice yields. Consequently, if 1 should b silled. Milton would be lelt almost pen niless. That he would find true friends in you and your generous-hearted parents, I have not the least doubt. Directly after my mother’s death your father want**! to take Milton and mi self to Ins home and ■ roar anil educate us ns his own children, and recently, hearing of Milton’s aversion to Florine, vour parents proposed to me that he should live with them after Florine and I were married. Mr. Morris* would, of course, do u father's part by Milton, and it is my wish, should I be lulled, that the child should take up his abode in your family, and 1 feel assured that he will never boa burden to your parents. Milton has a proud, independent spirit, and when he has at tained manhood 1 know he will repay every cent expended u|ui him.” “Virgil Paine!” exclaimed Pauline, “do you think papa would ever accept a cent from Milton? Never! We should consider it a task of love to rear and educate one we love so dearly. All we should ask of t h.t boy m return for our kindness to him would be that lie would grow up a noble, Chris tian man, and thus lie the pride and joy of our hearts.” On through the lonely, beautiful ceme tery, as (lie shadows deepened about them — on m tortured silence they walked. Al though her bravo young heart was almost broken, the privilege of being with the man she loved in the darkest, hour of his life af forded Pan line a pleasure which she would not have been clouied for all the wealth of the world. It was 7:30 when they reached the tobac conist’s home. Virgil did not leave his companion at the gate, hut, walked with her to the foot of the front step, where they halted. They bad not spoken a word on their way save those we have recorded, and it was a lull minute after they paused at the steps ere either could speak. At length the young lawyer took the girl’s hand tu his own and murmured.: “Good-by, little si ter. Love and watch over Milton. Return my sincere thanks to your parents l oi- ail the kindnesses they have shown the two hoys in their orphanage. Ask them to pray for me to-night, and you, too, little sinter. typist r<jngemhcr me in your prayers. GOod-by jPan lie.” Possessed of an impulse he could not re sist, he strained her to his breast, and for the first time- in his life kissed her, after which he hurried dowu the walk. ITO BE CONTINUED. 1 For Throat and Cough* uso Brown's Bronchial Troches. Like all really good things, they are imitated. The genuine are sold only in boxe*. BOOTS AND SHOES. A BANK OF CANDY GIVEN AWAY WITH EVERY PAIR OF CHILDREN'S SIS Come and see our magnifi cent array of desirable Shoes now more complete than ever before, embracing styles of every imaginable description, and suitable for the Baby and every stage in life to old age. This is ‘‘NO humbug,” and if you desire to see Shoes stacked from floor to ceiling we will take pleasure in showing you goods necessary for use in every-day and dress wear, which must be seen to be ap preciated. Our stock of Fancy Slippers for Holiday Presents repre sent the handsomest designs of Plain and Chenille Em broidered Plush, and are the nicest in the city. Remember the place. BYCK BROS. 17 Whitaker Street. STOVES. VICTORS OVER ALL COMPETITORS —AT THE— ATLANTA EXPOSITION. r PHF. first premium awarded to our GRAND 1 TIMES COOK BROADWAY and FOR TUNE RANGE. Call and see the prize winners. The best goods and e<st less than any offered in this market. The largest stock and best se lections of Cook and Heating Stoves in this city. Cornwell & Chipman, 167 BROUGHTON STREET. REAL. ESTATE. W. J. MARSHALL. H. A. M'LEOD. MARSHALL & McLEOD, Auction and General Commission Merchants, —DEALERS IN— Real Estate and Stocks and Bonds Broughton Street, Savannah, Ga. ATTENTION GIVEN TO RENTING OF HOUSES AND COLLECTING RENTS. STEAM LAUNIim, SAVANNAH STEAM \MM, 131 Congress Street, Does Ijuindry work of every description In first class style and at short notice. Work called for and delivered. Customers are protected against loss by fire. M. PRAGER, PROPRIETOR UNDERTAKER. JOHN H. FOX, \wJ TT m. cl © x* P a-kiez?, JVtawonio Temple, CORNER LIBERTY AND WHITAKER STS. PUT GOODS. We are too Busy to Say Much, But we will say Such Facts that will cause you to spend' your Money with us provided Money is an ob ject to you. We have determined not to wait until after Christmas, when nobody wants Winter Goods, to make a closing out sale, but we will do it right now, while (he public stands in need of such goods. We positively have reduced prices on all of our Winter Goods fully one-third, and therefore offer such bargains as will do you all good. We will close out at these reductions. Our elegant stock of DRESS GOODS. Our magnificent stock of BLACK SILKS. Our excellent stock of COLORED SILKS. Our beautiful stock of Priestley’s MOURNIN G GOODS. Our immense stock of English tailor-nnufe Walking Jackets, Our Plush Jackets’and Wraps, Our Newmarkets, Russian Circulars, and our large stock of MISSES’ and CHIL DREN’S GARMENTS. The same reductions —one-third off-—we offer in Blank ets, Shawls, Flannels, Ladies’ and Gent’s Underwear, Hosiery of all kinds, Comfortables, Housekeeping Goods, Gold-Headed Umbrellas, Silk and Linen Handkerchiefs, etc. NOW IS YOUR TIME FOR REAL BARGAINS. GOODS FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS AT OUR BAZAR. Tlis Grandest, Most Bitusin, Tie Most Elegant, AS WELL AS THE CHEAPEST To be found anywhere in the city, Wc can’t enumerate the articles because the variety is too large. Do not fail to examine our stock; we simply offer you such a line as can only be found in a first-class house in New York. Special Bargains This "Week: A 25-cent full regular CENT’S HALF HOSE for - - -10 c. A 25-cent full regular LADIES’ HOSE for ...... 10c. A 25-cent DAMASK TOWEL for 10c. A 25-cent CHILDREN’S UNDERSHIRT for 10c. A 25-cent GENT’S UNDERSHIRT for 10c. A 25-cent NECK SHAWL for 10c. A 25-cent HAIR BRUSH for ......... sc. A 25-cent RED TWI LL FLANNEL for lc. A PURE LINEN DAMASK NAPKIN for sc. A 5-cent PAPER NEEDLES for lc. A 5-cent PAPER PINS for ......... lc. A 50-cent JERSEY for 25c. DAVID WEISBEIN, 153 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. MILL.IXERY To the Public. Prapstins lor Spring ml Sumer 1888. The unprecedented trade in our Millinery Business dur ing 1887 is owing to the constantly adding of Novelties and the immense increase of our stock, which is doubtless the Lakgl i of Any Retail Millinery in America, exclusive of New York, and our three large floors cannot hold them. Already our importations, Direct from Europe, are ar riving, and on Our Third Floor we are opening Novelties for Spring and Summer in Ribbons, French Flowers and Feathers in the Most Beautiful and Novel Shades. We are sorry to be compelled, for want of room, to close our Winter Season so soon, which has been so very successful, and from to-day all our Felt Hats, Fancy Feathers and Trimmed Hats will be sold at any price. Our Ribbon Sale will continue until further notice. S. KROTJSKOinr, MAMMOTH MILLINERY HOUSE. W VTC I IKS AM) .JEWELRY. WATCHES, DIAMONDS, JEWELKI, FANCV GOODS.' THE US BROS., Successors to S. P. Hamilton. ASTE hare added to our stock during the pa*t week many NOVELTIES IN JEWELRY which It VV Is impossible to enumerate in advertisement. Our line of LACE PINS IN FLOWERS, rivalling nature in shape and texture, as well as BROOCHES and other styles, are the very latest conceits in the Jeweler's Art. GOLD CIGARETTE HOLDERS, SOLID SILVER HANDLE STEEL BI.ADED KNIVES, GARTER CLASPS IN SILVER, LADIES' COLLAR BUTTONS, SILVER HANDLE UMBRELLAS. A most Ireaiitiful line of FANCY RINGS IN DIAMOND AND RUBY, DIAMOND AND SAP PHIRE. DIAMOND AND EMERALD. Certainly the mostfelegaiit lotof COLORED STONES ever seen in Savannah. Special effort will be made by Us this week toward supplying our Friends’ wants in our Line, Vale Royal Manufacturing Cos, H. P. SMART, QA'V7A fSJ KT ATT H- A T - c BKYAN. President. OA. V itlN IN All, UTJn.. Socfy and Treat LTJMdBEiR. CYPRESS, OAK, POPLAR, YELLOW PINE, ASH, WALNUT. M anufacturers of sash, doors, blinds, mouldings or an kinds and description* CASINGS and TRIMMINGS for all classes of dwellings, PEWS and PEW ENDS of our own design and manufacture, TURNED and SCROLL BALUSTERS, ASH HANDLES for Cotton Hooka, CEILING, FLOORING, WaJNSC OTTING, SHINGLES. Warehouse and Up-Town Office: West Broad and Broughton Sts, Factory and Mills: Adjoining Ocean Steamship Co.’s Wharves, 5