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FART two.
BY MUTUAL CONSENT.
ByJ.MARSDEN SUTCLIFFE.
Author cf “The Belle of St. Barnabas;’ “The Romance of A n Insurance Of
fice,” “Revkat.ed bt Fire,” Etc., Etc.
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
CHAPTER I.
“My gav, greeu leaves are yellow-black,
Upon the dank autumnal floor;
ForYove. departed once, comes back
No more again, no more.”
In a private sittiug-room within the sta
tion hotel at Tork, from which the lofty
gray towers of the far-famed Minster were
dimly visible through the misty atmosphere,
a young girl sat crouching over a brightly
burning fire toward the close of a stormy
October day.
Her plain, tight-fitting dress of soft cling
ing black revealed a slight, girlish figure,
and served to throw Into strong relief the
extreme pallor of her face, on which the
dancing firelight played fitfully in the
gatherine dusk. The hollow depths iu her
cheeks, and the heavy, dark rings under her
large, gray eyes, which shone with a fever
ish luster, told uot only of protracted
night-watching but of terrible mental
trouble.
But though her worn appearance had
dimmed it could not wholly efface her more
than ordinary beauty. Her dainty head of
crisp brown hair, reclining on a perfectly
modelled hand, her pure profile and the ex
quisite delicacy of her skin, combined with
the graceful slope of bar shoulders to pre
sent an attractive picture which wanted
nothing to complete it except the round
fullness of outline and the healthy flush of
color that usually accompany youth and
happiness in women of her type of beauty.
If only the shadows that had too early
fallen on her young fife were lifted, and
time were given for her girlish form to
ripea to its mature development, Winifrod
Denison might yet rocovar more than her
former beauty, of which oaly a poor,
shadowy resemblance remained. J
There was somethi g infiiitely pathetic
in the stony expression that sat on the face
of one so fair and young, as she sat with
her eves fixed on the glowing coals. For
Winifred Denison was Btill young—she was
barely 20—too young, one would have
thought, to have known much of sorrow.
Yet she had been called to bear the shatter
ing of life’s brightest illusions, and, what is
worst of all to bear, the loss of faith, whilst
standing yet on the very threshold of bud
ding womanhood.
As she sat by the fire, unmindful of the
rain that was being driven furiously against
the window panes by the wild westerly wind
that roared and shrieked dismally round
the chimney fops, she was livi g her life
over again, and wondering what it might
have been if Capt. Denison had not crossed
her path.
She was thinking, too, of the future, with
a wearied sense of heart loneliness and of
the futility that has crept into her life, leav
ing her like a goodly vessel hopelessly
stranded and cast away on its first voyage;
and with the thoughts that came to her
there was horn anew resolution io her soul
that imparted anew gravity to the white,
set face.
Winifred became so absorbed in her re
flections that sho did not notice the opening
and closing of the door, nor the muffled
tread of a man’s footsteps on the s-oft pile
carpet, ishe did not know that stie was no
longer alone, until a hand was laid upon her
shoulder with gentle pressure and her hus
band bent to kiss her.
hen she became aware of his presence a
shudder passed through her slender form;
and ns Cajit. Denison lightly brushed her
cheek with his mustache sue roused herself
from her long reverie and turned a wav dis
dainfully f r mi his caress, raising her hand
although to shield horsed from his touch.
“As you please,” be said, breaking the
siience, aud hinging himself into an arm
chair and seizing tha poker he vented his
irritatation on the unoffending coals, which
hesei.t firing until the ruddy blaze illu
minated the room. This done, he settled
uow u to watch his wife's face, as though he
would read there what was passing in her
mind.
During the past few days Winifred’s atti
ju le toward her husband had occasioned
Jnm much perplexity. Hitherto she had
Been plastic os clay in his bauds; bat since
tile death of tfcair child, four days ago, he
Osa detected a r.ew accent in her voice when
6 be spoke, which was seldom, and an avoid
ance of him which chafed him.
. *{ le y "ere returning from Scarborough
° uieir home in London when the child was
. ,u alarmingly ill. Capt. Denison ad
ministered several doses of brandy from his
I*l SS j° i t!le ,* nva l*‘J, and would have con
ur Ue u ie j aurne 7i but Winifred insisted
tn?? 'y 3 ’ l ! leaving the train and hurrying
9 ‘ be station hotel, w.iere apartments were
' ; a td medical advice obtained. It
',' 1 ' ia ® first time that she had opposed her
and against her husband’s, but she had in-
and Capt. Denison reluctantly gave
but the mother’s prudence and the phy
‘l9,’’.SSilt proved unavailing. What ap
r,”!-. t 0 a attack of croup which
to Give way to treatment devel
-I*' a n ; ora serious symptoms. A hard inem
,n.® f°rmed in the little sufferer’s throat,
. ' . !:l fhree days the end came, when, after
r * 3l9 Rasping for breath, the child died in
kis mother's arms.
beei Qly tilat af f- rrioo u the little body had
tin" c ” nvi 'Ved to its Jast resting place, an i
4-t-r 1 i a funeral Winifred had remained
trV * ff u' ra *^ a ® re thinking over the
■ • aid revolving plans for the future.
® er husband was employed more
• M soy to his tastes in the well-appointed
tili ard room of the hotel.
fre . rJ iln< * rejected all her husband’s
: rouso her from the apathetic
d> ,Vo ss ', ! : t 0 w hich she fell on the child’s
.I,7'' /“a® felt that Capt. Denison’s oon
s -®? ‘-ad a hollow ring about them. His
n,7;. ■ "'as not even “the vacant chaff
w,. ' 7 a,lt f r grain.*' The child’s birth
ir" ;“"®*come to him, seeing that its com-
U\ 1 ' l ® ! 'ed with his plans, and now that
Rind nn n from :1 be was secretly
1 , though ne put a strong curb on
friitiTv,,’. h® could not conceal his satisfaction
h;s \„ S w 1 Thera was a buoyancy in
t nier 96 endeavored to comfort her
tsi'v of’k h>s, that grated on tho fine deli
a? ...her car and caused her to repel his
j. to s >othe tier grief,
t’- n i.! i a ’ to dawn on Capt. Denison's
Cut*".- * at wat ®Wng his wife, and valu
'd oin'”,. clrcil '' nstauces recurred to his nnnd
* j ‘ P' nitod emphasis, now that they
la>, n „? r P ret ! * by the stony look of remo
ter f ‘ tt " “® detectsi for the first time on
6 a-n T . at t be child's death had dug a
rii;! v . J “‘ w ®en them that would not tie
tiii'r 5r over. Hut he was not the
t-'.! i, Jo° U , bimsolf about questions of
>t, and presently, pulling out his
watch, he broke the long silence bv inquir
ing:
“Have you seen to your packing J”
“ Yea. No. I mem 1 have not thought
of it,” she replied, hurriedly, whilst a warm
flush of color dyed her throat.
“Then it is time you did. It is past six,
and I have ordered dinner for 7. Vve leave
by the 9 train, remember.”
W imfred raised herself from her stooping
posture and turned her flue eves, giowiug
with resentment, and her husband's eyes
fell under her searching, defiant glance.
He felt that he was In for a scene, and he
hated scenes. Besides that, there was some
thing in the glitter of Winifred’s eyes that
stung him like a rebuke, and warned him
of the danger of his attempting to force her
will.
“I intend to remain behind,” she said,
firmly, after apause, in clear, vibrant tones.
Capt. Denis u quickly detected the new
edge in his wife’s voice, and looked up
quickly to encounter her eyes fixed on hitn
with a gaze more steady than his own.
“What nonsense,” he exclaimed, impa
tiently. “How can you remain behind?
And what the deuce for?”
“I have decided to remain,” answered
Winifred, still speaking in the same clear,
level tones, with a quiet assumption of reso
tion that startled her husband, though her
agitation was visible in the nervous play
of her fingers, as she locked and unlocked
them.
“We must come to an understanding
about the future, Regiuald,” she continued,
answering the look of inquiry which she
saw iu her husband’s face. “I cannot go
back to the old life and I will not.”
“What do you intend to do, then?”asked
CaDt. Denison, angrily.
“1 mean that from this time our paths in
fife must fie apart. When you leave York
we part never to meet again, unless our
paths happen to cross. In that case wa shall
meet as strangers.”
“May I ask the reason of this new whim?
That is, if you are sane enough to bo able to
explain yourself,” he added, bitterly.
“I should have loft you long ago, if it had
not been for baby. I could not have en
dured the life which you have dragged me
into aud would have fled from the horror
of it long ago but for bi3 sake.”
“The horror of it? What do you mean?”
asked Cipt. Denison, roughly. “Have you
not everything that a woman can want*
A good house, dresses, jewelry, a box at the
opera, money without stint? I suppose ‘love
in a cottage’ would suit you before,"
“I have known wbat poverty is,” said
Winifred, “and have felt its pinch, so 1 am
not likely to speak lightly of the cares it
brings. But I would sooner have poverty
with a clear conscience—which is what I
suppose you mean by ‘love in a cottage’—
than the luxuries you give me, when 1 know
how they are obtained.”
“Aud you really wish that I should leave
you behind at York?” said the captain,
wincing at the grave tone of rebuke.
“Irrevocably! Have I not said that I
would have flod long ago, if it had not been
for the baby ? Now he is gone—and the
last tie is severed between us,” replied Wini
fred, sadly yet calmly, with her head
proudly poised.
Capt. Denison roso from his chair aud be
gan slowly to pace the room, his brows
severely corrugated, always the sign with
him of mental disturbance. He could not
understand this new whim on the part of
his wife, for that it was more tuau a whim
he was reluctant to admit.
“But why should I seek to alter her de
termination?” he suddenly asked himself.
“Why should I not avail myself of the
oppo tuuity of release from a tie which has
grown wearisome?”
He remembered how beautiful she was
when he first knew hor, and for an instant
his heart softened as he recalled the vision.
But the next minute he was engaged in
contrasting her appearance then with her
appearance now. SVhere were the charms
for the sake of wbioh be had married her!
Had she not grown very pasatet Aud then
ho remembered the reasons for the presence
of a beautiful woman in his house, who
should preside at his table aud deligut the
eyes of his visitors. As his reflections con
tinued in this strain, and ha recalled his
long regret over what he deemed his folly
in slipping his neck into the matrimonial
noose, his face suddenly lighted up with tha
prospect of escape from a galling fetter,
and wheeling round to face his wife, he de
manded :
“This is no caprice on your part, to bo re
pented of, I suppose f
"It is my u laltorable determination,"
Winifred replied. “Nothing oa earth will
induce me to live with you again. ’
“That is well,” he replied, coldiy. ‘‘For
I swear that if I yield to you 1 will never
take you back again. Never!”
And Capt. Dinison swore a great oath to
clouc.i his vow.
But if Capt. Denison hoped for any sign
of relenting he was disappointed. Wini
fred’s gaze continued fixed npou him un
shrinkingly as bofore. Tae limits of her
endurance wera passed. Tae days when his
wife was pliaut to his will wore over. He
had now to confront a will that was not less
t .’iiacious than his ow n, and he was not
slow to recognize the change that had
come.
“I agree to your proposal conditionally,’’
he said after a pause. “It is not likely taat
we shall meet again, though the world is a
small place. If we do, we do not know
each other. Remember what that means.
You will not interfere with any plans of
mine, as I bind myself not to interfere with
vours. You wili make uo claims on me
hereafter, and you will cease to bear my
name.”
“I agree to everything,” cried Winifred,
rising from her seat, aud taking her wel
ding ring from her finger. “Thera, you
are free.” she continued. “All you have ti
do is to forget me. My name is Winifred
West, aud vours! I have not the honor of
your acquaintance, sir.”
“I soe. You have got up your part very
welt,” said Capt. Dmism. “What an
actress you would mike! You half tempt
me to withdraw from the bargain. But
now—for my last condition. II iw much
money do you require?”
“I will not touen u penny of your money,”
exclaimed Winifred, her eyes Ma iling and
her beautiful nostrils dilating, a> she drew
herself to her full hight.
“That is ail rubbish,” replied Cant. Deni
son, coolly. "You in ist drop this high
falutin, or I will recall my consent. Here
are fifty pounds. Take the money and wo
part —by mutual consent. Refuse it, and
you will accompany mi to town, willy
niUy.”
It was the only point in the discussion
wherein Capt. Deniton scored. But ho
proved inflexib'e as to this condition, and
Winifred yielded. Capt. Deniso i turned to
go. For a moment husband and wiCj stood
confronting each other, Winifred trembling
SAVANNAH. GA., SUNDAY. NOVEMBER
wi h excitement, and Capt. Dsnison scan
iiinfc her faej iu vain for any signs of re
penting there.
“Is toere anything els?, WinnyF ho said,
after a pause.
|"'h° shook tier head and male no reply.
“It is not too late to repent,” he re
marked.
. shall never repent.’* she replied, gazing
into his face unflinchingly.
”\ ery well. Let us part friends,” he ex
claimed, in his j tunties; manasr.
He placed his hand on her sh aider, and
would have kissed her, but again she turned
away her face and thrust him aside with her
hands with such evident repugnance that
Capt. Denison bit his lip in anger and left
the room.
CHAPTER 11.
"Thou ehalt not steal; an empty feat,
" non it's so lucrative to cheat."
Cnnt. Reginald De lison was the second
of threes ns of a Suffolk harxmet, a man of
scrupulous honor a id integrity, stern and
unbending in his his high-toned morality.
Sir John Deniso i had twice paid his son’s
gambling debts. On the third application
for ttie assistance ot the parental sp >nge,
the baronet took time to consider before
complying with his son’s modest, demand.
Eventually, however, he handed Capt.
Denison a check considerably oxeoeding
the amount asked for. But tho satin faction
with which Capt. Denison received the
munificent sum was considerably dashed by
the caustic observation with which it was
accompanied.
“ There, sir, I have done for you all that
I intend to do. You have now received tbe
whole sum to which you were entitled; and
you are at liberty to reform or go to the
dogs in your own way.”
Capt. Denison elected to “go to the dogs.”
Reckless whilst the money lasted he became
even mtye reckless when it was ail spent,
for, finding himself no lo iger capable of
supporting hut position as an offlc-ir hoi U ig
the queen’s commission, he disappeared
from the army, when, curiously enough,
fortune, whic i had frowned on him hither
to, began to smile upon hi n after ho had
adopted tho life of a professional gambler
and adventurer.
Tnero were few gambling hells on the
continent w.th which Capt. Danis m had
not a greater or lesser degree ol' acquaint
ance. He passed Che grea. part of his time
abroad, visiti ig Paris, Hamburg, Hiden-
Baden, .Mo iaco, and 51 nits Carlo in turn.
He wa: endowed with a handsome presence,
marred only by too pronounced aquiline
features that earned for him in certain cir
cles the nickname of “Capt. Vulture.”
Notwithstanding this defect he was a man
of agreeable nud polished address, with
hosts of acquaintances who pa-sod for
friends.
His reputation did not suffer from the
evil rumors that a*tacked the ruck of gam
lers. The worst that was said of him was
that “he had the devil’s own luck." But it
was not to be inf irred from this that he
played with loaded dice or was guilty of
any malpratice that cnuld unfit him for'the
society of gentlemen. In short, Capt.
Denison contrived to keep ou the safa side
of that line lino that divides the gambler,
pure and simple, from the level of too black
leg.
He was on his way to Monte Carlo, and
was staying for a few days in Paris eu route,
when chance directed his footsteps one day
to the Louvre. Capt. Denison cared little
for piotures and statuary, and as for the
jargon of “high art” he understood it as
little as he understood Chiuese. But he was
ennuye, aud with a few moments to spare
be thought he could not do better than es
cape from the scorching boulevards for a
quiet stroll through too gallerias of the
Louvre, in one of which he first encount
ered Winifred West.
Winifred was engaged in making a small
replica of a war picture, whilst her father
sitting in his wheelchair close by, occupied
himself with bis Qaliyuani. Cap*. Deni
son’s first impression was one of amuse
ment to see so youthful a tyro of the arts
engaged upon what, even to his immature
understand! ig, was evidently an ambitious
attempt. Bit the next moment his amuse
ment gave plz.ee to admiration as his eye
caught th? beautiful face of the youthful
artist and the flowing lines of hor budding
figure. He became so absorbed in watching
her that he failed to notice the invalid sit
ting in the wheelchair, until altering his
position in order to obtain a closer view of
Winifred’s face he recognized in the young
artist’s father an old comrade with waom
he had served in the Soudan.
Maj. West, who had retired frem the
army in consquenc3 of a severe wound in
the hip, whicu had left him permanently
lame, and from the offsets of which his life
was slowlv obbing away, was overjoyed to
seo an old comrade-in-arms, aud the in
timacy then renewed vva> continued until
the death of the major, who, knowing
nothing of his friend’s later history, com
mitted Winifred to his erre.
Let it be recorded in Capt. Denison’s favor
that he was most reluctant to accept a trust
for which he felt himself utterly unfit. He
frankiy told the major that it was “not in
ins line.” But when the veteran pleaded
that Winifred would be left alone and
friendless, and appealed to him by the
memory of the dangers they had shared to
gether that he would not refuse his prayer,
Capt. Denison consented. Having under
taken tha responsibility, he also meant to
go through with it faithfully anl honora
bly.
Oti settling the major’s affaire he di cov
ered that a sum barely amounting to one
hundred pounds per annum was left for
Winifred’s maintenance, and finding after
consultation with a friend who was better
acquaintei with such matters than himself,
that the girl really possessed artistic capa
bilities of a very high order, ho arranged
for her education in tae technicalities of the
profession that, she had chosen. Having
placed her under the care of a respaa‘able
woman, who undertook to accompany her
in her journeyiug3 to aud fro between hor
lodgings and the studio where soe went to
receive lessons, Capt. Deaison started for
Monaco.
During the three months of his absence
he maintoined a regular correspondence
with his wrrd. who reported the events of
hor daily life wi;h the spontaueousuess of a
frank unsophisticated nature. When he
returned to Haris, bringing with e well
lined puree, he noted with admiration the
great change that three months had
wrought in Winifred’s appearance. Tall
and graceful as a fawn, everv attitude one
of unstudied grace, Winifred iu tin first
blush of hor maidenly beauty was endowed
with undeniable charms. Hut what pleased
Capt. Denison most was the entire freshness
of her feeling, and her air of cindor and
innoceuce, as of a soul ignorant of this
world’s evil. The entire ingenuousness of
her nature, and the look of innocent sim
plicity in her eyos suggested to him a
scheme that he lost no time in carrying
out.
lie began to speak toiler cf marriage; a
subject that was received by Vi lulfr > i with
grave, wondering eyes. It vss fcbi first
time that the idea had entered her mind
that there was anything else to l.ve for ex
cept the art that she love 1. Capt. Denison
masked his approaches to the virgin citadel
of her hoart under plausible arguments
baiel professedly on a sincere co icerii for
her welfare. Hu rnauner, too, was so
quietly authoritative that she knew not how
to resist him. She was harelv 17, without
experience, to guide h o', or a relative in the
world to appeal to. What else could she do
than yield to his persuasions, which,
though she was little conscious of it,
amounted to a moral coerci >n of her u iin- ,
formed will. On one point she was clear,
wueu she married him. She did not love !
him. It? told her that her love wouldcomo !
later; and and mbtleas he might have proved a
true prophet if he had been worthy. Bill '
though she did not love him she was grate- |
ful to him for his goodness to her in the i
time of tor trial; grateful too for his ac- j
ceptanee of the guardianship of a young
girl like herself, aud flattered too by his
preference for her. It did not enter tier
mind that his preference for her was the
preference of the wily snake for the inno
cent dove. That was to come later.
H inifre 1 soon learned that she had not
finked her fate witli the high-minded
chivalaus trieud who soothed the last mo
ments of her father, and who had watch
fully befriended her, but with an inveterate
gambler and rone. The earliest, revelation
came soon after her marriage. The London
sea-ou was just beginning when they ar
rived in England, aid after a few days
oas.ed at a West End hotel, Capt. Denis >u
took a furnished h uise in Cavendish street.
He. e the scales first fell from Winifred’s
eyes, though it was some time before she
learned to out fact a.ul fact together. As
soou as they were settled in Cavendish
street, Capt. Denison, who, on one pretence
aiul another, had postponed introducing his
wife to his family, announced that some old
friends of his would dine with them that
evening.
“Now, at last,” thought Winifred, “she
would have somo one on whoss mature ex
perience she could lean, and to wnom she
c:u!d give those emtidencos that women
only give to each other.”
Capt. Denison showed himself exceedingly
anxious about his wife’s appearance at their
first dinner party, and Winlired snared no
effort to plea-6 hi n. When she descended
to the drawing room to await the arrival of
her guodi she more than satisfied her hus
banu’s fastidious taste. She w ire a rich
dross of silk, trimm and with velvet—for she
ha t resumed h:r mourning for her father—
and the black became the purity of her
complex! m and tho dazzling whiteness of
her beautiful neck and nrnn. licrcirsage
was cut low, and though her figure was
wanting in tho ripe fullness of womanhood
the subtler charm of girlhood was hoi's. A
diamond locket sparkled on her breast and
a diamond stir shone from the thick
masses of her crisp wavy brown hair. The
only trace of color was the delicate tosb of
her softly rounded cheeks.
It was with a beating heart that Winifred
welcomed her guests. She looked wistfully
iu tie face of tier husband fir an explana
tion of tho circumstance that no lady was
uuitioered amongst them. But Capt. Deni
son’s smiling face exhibited no trace of
sharing his fair young wife’s anxiety. He
saw that tho men whom ho had invited
were smitten with her beauty, and he was
satisfied.
After dinner Winifred was still more per
plexed to find the drawing room utilized for
games that were strange and now to her. in
which a good deal of money appoaro I to
change hands. Not even then did the whole
truth break upon ber. It wa3 only g ad
uailv that she came to learn that i.er hus
band was engaged in driving a metaphorical
coach-and-six through acts of parliamo >t,
and that, ostensibly living before the world
as a gentleman of means and repute, he hid
converted his house into a private gambling
dan. Long before Winifred came to under
stand her position, Capt. Denison's estab
lishment in Cavendish street was freely
spoken of amongst the "fast set” at the
clubs as “a nice quiet place where club
rules don’t hold.'
Winifred in her innocence imagined that
her husband, finding his home a little dull,
had called in a few friends to drive away
(’linin'. But when the dinner parties be
came an institution as regular as their
morning meal, her suspicions took alarm.
One thing only was wanting to give her sus
picious shape, aud it was not many weeks
before that was forthcoming. She could
no longer doubt when one of tha least man
nerly of her guests in taking his leave of
her after an evening at play in which for
tune had boon against him, ventured to otn-
S ploy an insolent freedom, as if Winifred
hers df hart been in the plot to despoil him.
Capt. Denison shrank from the explana
tion that Winifred forced upon him, but iie
was compelled to acknowledge be had no
reliable source of income, that all he pos
sessed or was likely to posse s was ob
tained by such in ‘ans a ; she had seen. He
wound up his explanations by pointing out
to ber the extromeiy important aid that she
could render by making herself agreeable
to his guests, enjoining upon her at the sane
time not to be shocked at trifles.
Trillor,'. Poor Winny! Her brain reeled
under the shock of the discovery. s> that
sho could scarcely toll what were triti -s and
what were not. All possibility of affection
for hor hu band died nway iu the hour when
she first lear.it that the man who should
have protected ho* from the leant appear
ance of insult was guilty of the ineffable
meannes i and degradation of exposing his
wife as the decoy to a gambling hell! This
was the explanation of Lord Algy Fitzher
lieri’s ex raordinary hehavoir that evening,
when seating himself bv her side nt the
piano whilst she was playing a piece from
Schumann he had dare 1 to whisper love
proposals in her ear*. His words had out
raged her to the very soul nf er hearing her
husband’s explanations, but she feit the ris
ing color in her cheeks, and the quick heav
ing of her bosom ns sho rose from the pinao
with the offended digity of a quean, must
have appeared in the eyes even of such a
witless young noble nan as Lord Algy like a
piece of acting. Verily, the iron entered
her soul that night! She ventured to ask
ber husband whether his friends knew that
she was his wife! Bat he laughed at her
scruples aud mockingly asked her whet er it
was necess iry to exhibit their marriage
lines to hu visit >rs. She shuddered to thing
the thing she had become.
Thenceforward her life held out for her
no hope. Then came the birth of the child
to reconcile her in part to the lot from which
she could ses no escape
CHAPTER 111.
A brave vessel
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in
her,
Dasho l all to pieces.
When Winifred fund herself alone after
Capt. Dennison’s departure, the long pent
up agitation of many days broke loose in
passionute sobs.
Sho could uot weep when her child died,
though t:e child’s naiufnl gaspingi for
breatU had torn tho heart of tae young
mother with inconceivable pangs. Sbe had
witnessed, too, tba 1 iwering of the tiny
coffin in the do?p earth without betraying
the sorrow which only a mother bereft of
her first-born can understand. But now
she hu i taken an irrevoc ible step, and she
was henceforth to fight her battla with the
world alone, the fount of tears which
had seemed dried up were unsealed
and burst forth with stormy energy.
It was well that she could
weep at last. Tears brought relief to her
overwrought heart, and j by-aud-by, when
her sorrow had spent its force, h6r brain,
which bad grown confusod, cleared again.
“Have I done right?” she exclaimed with
tho inconsistency of a woman reviewing
nor actio j. F r the first time a doubt
adzed hor miud. “Could a worn in over be
justified,” sho asked herseif, “in setting
aside the most sacred of all tiesf’She had told
her husband that henceforward she would
be Winifred West, assuming once toora her
mauion name. "But how could suo, by any
act of hor own violation, alter facts! Was
she not his wife still! Could anything
hort of death, or dishorn', worse than
dentil, change that .”
But the thought of hr obild eatne to
strengthen her. How with tt.e memo: yof
that pure and innocent face lying in its tiny
coilln o mid she go hack to the eld fife that
he had regarded with auch horror, and
which aho felt to bo evil and loathed s >
utterly? One thing wa: left to her, and to
that sue had vowed herself, when the child
die i, she would at any cost bo true. Who
could lives i that the memory of the dead
face should never he a rebuke to her. It
seemed to her that tho child had been taken
away to set her free and give her energy to j
achieve her redemption from the slough i
iuto which she had fallen by her marriage, i
and who shall say that she was wrong?
As calmer thoughts returned to her she !
bee line more satisfied that, tbe decision she
had taken was l ight. Willingly would she
have gone liand-i i-hand with her husband,
steadfastly pursuing the right together
But he had filled to understand her from
the beginning of their married life, and she
knew that she must tread the difficult path
of duly alone.
Winifred awoke next morning, having
enjoyed the first unbroken rest she had
known for months, and with an elasticity of
spirits to which she had lung been a
stranger. She knew that a hard, stern
struggle awaited her In her endeavors to
obtain her living, but she felt that she had
now“a heart for any fate.” It seemed t > her as
if death hud given hack to her her babe m
anew and glorified firm. She no longer
thought of him a: dead. Sho felt that ho
was with her to lead her by the hand, and
guid > her, so that she might thread her
way safely through the temptations that
beset a human pathway. Her old life
seemed fur away. Anew life was opened
before her. She vowed that she would go
forth to miet it, so that hsr child, the pres
ence that she felt near, should never bo
ashamed of his mother.
Who i she qu.tted her be dr mm sue found
a newspaper, neatly folded, lying oi the
breakfast table, ller eve lighted on a para
graph, natch she read with a trembling
eagerness that caused her breath to com)
more quickly.
It contained a brief account of a disaster
iu tho Huient. The Hea-Mew, a yacht be
longing to John Denison, eldest son of Sir
John Denison of Alverthorpe park, Suf
folk, had been cut down to tho water’s el .e
at il all on b art! perished. The owner of
the yacht and his younger brother, l’ercy
De lisou, were aino ig those reported to bo
lost. Tho paragraph went on tossy tbat
ou receiving Intelligence of the fatality Sir
John Denison was seized with paralysis, a id
that Sir Julius Venn, the eminent Loudon
physician, who was telegranhed for to
Alverthorpo, held out no hope of his re
covery, aud concluded with the information
that ii consequence of the accident the
next heir was I’apt. Reginald Denison,
formerly of the —th Hussars.
Winifred, although she had not known
her husband's relatives, was deeply shocked
at these tidings. She not unnaturally be
gan to reflect on te alteration in her hus
band’s position that must ensue.
“Poor Sir John,” she murmured to her
self. “To lose both of his sons at ona
blow! And Reginald? Why. in all human
probability, in a few hours he will bo Sir
Reginald Denison, of Alverthorpe, and 1 —
I—”
“1 am Winifred West.”
TO lilt CONTINUED.
THE BUFFALO’S MUD BATH.
The Ring-shaped Wallow No Longer
a Familiar fight on the Prairie.
From the Kanaai City Slur.
A buffalo wallow, onco one of tko most
familiar objects ou the prairies, is a circular
depression, having a diameter of from six to
thirteen foot—the average, perhaps, about
twelve feet. In approaching u large herd
during the summer tha first indication of
the presence of tee huge animals was an
immense cloud of dust rising high in the
air, for the buffalo, ns do many of the wild
beasts, lives to revel in the fine sand or dirt,
which he furnishes by digging It up with
his horns.
“Like a bull in his wallow,” was once a
frequent saving o:i tb > plains, and it hail a
very significant meaning with those who
had ever witness a buffalo bull trying to cool
h mself in a wallow.
Many years ag >, in the early days of
travel on the great plains, the travelers be
lieved these curious rings to have been made
by the Indians in their dances, but the idea
prevailed for a short time. The buffalo,
whose hair is romarkable for its intense
shagjjine sand thickness, must necessarily
suffer severely from heat, and then lie will
seek the lowed; ground ou the prairie,
where there has been a little stagnant water
left, if he can find it; of course, the ground
being soft under the short grass, it is an
easy matter for him t > make a rnud puddle
of the spot in a very short time, lie ac
complishes this by getting down on one
k ioe, plunging bis short horns, and at last
his head, into the earth, n id he soon makes
an excavation into which the water slowly
liiters. This makes a relatively cool batn,
where, throwing himself on his side as flat
as lie can, he rolls forcibly around, a id,
with his horns and hump, hie rips up the
ground by his rotary motion, sinking deoper
and deeper, continually making the wallow
larger, which fills with water, in which at
length he becomes completely immersed,
the water and mud, mixed to the consis
tency of inoriar, covering him perfectly,
changing bis color and general appearance.
When he roso the mud dripped in great
streams from every part of his huge body,
a horrible looking monster of mud and
uzlim si, too terrible to be accurately de
scribed.
It was generally the leader of the herd
who took upon himself the business of mak
ing the wallow, or, if he found another had
commenced the excavation, he would drive
him away and wallow until he was satisfied,
standing in a mass of mud and water iu the
hoie until bo got ready to give the others n
chance. It wa-, al ways the next in command
who stood ready, and wnen he came out the
next, who advanced in his turn, and so ou
according to rank until all had performed
their ablution*. Frequently a hundred or
more would patiently wait their turn, each
one making the wallow a little larger a id
carrying off a i hare of the uiud, winch
dried and gradually fell off.
It required about half an hour to make a
decent wallow, and the depth was ab iut
two feet. The water naturally drains into
those holes, t igether witli its accompanying
vegetable deo sit, and the result is a re
markably rich Jsoil, where the grass and
weeds grow with a iuxuriauce so marked
that a, buffalo waliowjcnn Jbe distinguished
long before it is reached. The prairies are
covered with them alt over the central and
western pirtionof Kansas, whore the pliw
has not yet disturb id the primitive od.
Tae first thing a Kansos farmer does after
a rain is to examine the b iffalo wallows; if
thoy are filled with water the rain has been
a good one, and the saying common in that
region, both by the individual and the
newspaper, is, when speaking or writing of
a soaki " rain: "The buffalo wallows are
full.” When the weather was dry the buf
falo had to content hitnself with the com
minuted dust ho c iuld make in the hote,
and, as the weather was generally dry, the
whereabouts of a herd could usually bo lo
cated by the cloud of dust above it.
It is wilts a lady eaters a crowded horse car
that the man who tuts a teat really feela that
its is getting his money’s wortu out of a news
paper.—JSlmira (Jaiette.
FARMERS ALL UNITED.
THEIR CONVENTION TO BE IN
EVERY SENSE A NATIONAL ONE.
What the Alliance Has Done Toward
Bringing tho Various Sections of th.
Country Together—lte Growth from
Small Beginnings—The Political As
pects of the New Agricultural Move
ment.
{CovurigM, 1890.)
New Yoiik. Nov. 29. Agriculturists
generally look upon the approaching an
nual convent ion of the National Farmers’
Alliance and Indu trial Vuion, to be held,
inOeda, Fla., on Dec. 2, iu fur more im
portant to their interests than any similar
gathering in this country has yet been.
Farmers have been gradually growing up
to tae belief that there was a way to per
manently right tho many grievous wrongs
they have so long complained of and suf
fered under.
The Granger movemout brought tempo
rary relief in some sections of the country,
os also did other more or less local or sec
tional movements, but each iu its turn soon
faded away, and reform had to lie looked
for, hut never quite obtained, in still other
directions. These various mov ni nts
however, were failures, though they paved
the way to improved methods of
organization and combined effort. Tho
lesul's have already been apparent
in the returns from tho recant elec
tionl'. tY hole states have been swept by
the farmers here and there, ad their
representatives will sit in governors’ c airs,
will form working majiritles in state
legislatures, w ill no longer seek vainly for
plenty of congenial companionship ii the
lower house of congress, aid will even
associate together in the United Status
Senate itself. Small wonder that sme
of the more optimistical of their number
see the farmers in the uar future
carrying the whole country by s orin in a
pre idontial election. Small wonder for
their positive belief that t is year’s c inven
tion of the alliance—the first truly national
convention of farmers—ls to he big with
g eat results. Delegates from all recog
nized farmer:’ orders or associations will be
welcomed to tho convention and invited to
take an activo part in the proceedings, Tho
object, as declared, is “the formation of
one grand, compact national organization,
which shall unite all those fraternities in
mutual co-operation and political action.”
“Not that we want to run this govern
ment ourselves,” said one sturdy wheat
grower from the west, who has beat in
town this week, “but wo don’t intend to
submit longer to injustice from any man or
from any combination of men, and we be
lieve that, we are strong enough now to be
heard in legislatures ad in congress. We
know no party politics in this matter.
Democrats, republicans Jowl prohibitionists
are working together, and the wheat raisers
of the west nave joined hands with the cot
ton growers of the south. Now we are
moving eastward Pennsylvania, New
Jersey ami New York are in line with ut.
Noxt we shall organize the tobacco growers
of Connecticut, who have been shamefully
abused and cheated out of their profits.
For some time we Ictvc hail a headquarters
in Washington. We’ve got still another
headquarters now—right here in New York
Cltv.
Tney huve. At No. 835 Broadway, iu a
couple of office rooms on the third floor, is
tho metropolitan abiding place of the
Farmers’ Alliance Exc tinge. Its secretary
and manager, a pit avant-faerd young
southerner, who saw the alliance at its
birth and shared in its early struggles, is
also the president of Florida Alliance Htato
Kxchinye. Tho busiue.* of the exchange is
to keep farmers with good security, but in
need of ready cash, out of tiie hands of
usurious and ooasfdonoslss* sharks; to buy
farming implements, seed, etc., nt lowest
rates and deliver them nt cost price; to
obtain the highest rates for farm produce,
and to look alter the general interests of
members of tho aiiinnce. The farm
housewife, too, is not forgotten,
for through the alliance exchange
she can obtain sewing and wash
ing machines und other household
articles at manufacturers’ prices; and state
or local agents can have sugar and other
indestructible provisions shipped to any
section of tho country for distribution nt
refiners’ prices. This means that the farm
ers. after buying beon the prey of extor
tionate agents aid commission merchants
for yours, can now purchase almost any
thing they plea :o at from 85 to lit) per cent,
less taau ti e same articles would cost us at
retail here In tho city. That fact they pre
sent as one of the results of co-operation.
Of course, as shareholders, they pay a small
annual fee to cover the expenses of the
bureau, which is purely ai.d simply an
alliance bureau, und not iu any way under
private control.
I.ike all great movements, the farmers
alliance bad small beginnings and is not the
growth of a day. It i early history Is even a
little obscure, for the title originated iu an
informal sort of way In Lampasas county,
’Texas, about the your 187 ii. That m a little
piece of history to be read for the firs’ time,
probably, by most of the office sand mem
of the now powerful order. Cattle thieves
abounded m Lampasas county in those days
aud conducted their operations ou a most
extensive scale. The authorities of the re
gion could do nothing, and the cattlemen
decided that the only way to save their stock
was to look in their own way for their
own interests. They met one night anil
called themselvss the Fenners’ Alliance.
Their object was to rid Lampasas county of
cattle thieves. They bad neither officers
nor constitution and by-laws, but tney went
to work vigorously with their single object
in view, and pretty soon timt object was
accomplished, and the Farmers' Alliance
scored its first success. Although those
pioneer members have not since been ac
cused of telling tales out of school, it is
reasonably safe to assume that some of the
cattle thieves they raided have not since
: that time stolen cattle either in Lampasa3
county or any where else.
Iu 187(5 one of the original memliers,
named Baggett, went to Barker county,
Texas, and there organized the first formal
nssociition known as the Farmers’ alliance.
It was a secret society. Oswald Wilson,
now the manager of tho New Y’ork head
quarters, was teaching school in that
vicinity at the tune, and he and his
principal, on tho iuvilatiou of the farmers,
were among tho first members of the new
organization. Soon afterward, in tha
same year, the farmers’ Alliance made
its appearance in western Now York, but
not as a secret organization. The title
spread to the northwestern siatas, were in
spots it lingered, but more often irst itself
iu other orders, la the south the title was
not known for several years ouLido of
Texas, but there it grew aud flourished, for
tue Barker county organization gradually
became a slate order, and m l(sßfi the Texas
Fanners’ Alliance had a membership of
150.1HK).
Delegates from the Farmers’ State Union
of Louisiana, with a membership of 10,001,
met in February, XBs7, with the delegates
from the state alliance of Texas aud formed
what was then known as the National
Farmer’s Alliance a-ai Co-operative Union,
obtaining from Washington a national
PAGES 9 TO 12.
charter ns a trades union. Organizers were
then so it t > all tho southern states to urn*
foe larmor. lo establish subordlnat • alhan e*
in their seh ol districts Oswald Wilson
went first to hi. tiativestateof Florida,where
lie organ zed the first district a' ha oa. In
(r orgin, soon afterward, ho organized an
othe ■ district alii mee. Toe movement
spread ranilly a?.er that, especially ii tie
great cotton be.t, where too planters had'
long be ■ i t o victims of sellers aud D ir
cha-er*. cotton brokers and money lenders,'
who, acting, it was charge I. in concert, had
loaded down many magnificent plantations
with debt aid mortgages, and not
only beuglit crops at their own*
figures, hut foreclosed on chattels’
and lan is almost ut will. District
nlliauces there so m grow into county aud
then state alliances, ad the first national
conventm was bold in Bhrsveport, !a.. in
Octohor, 1887. At the sane time tbe Na
tional Wneel, a similar order, whose
bra iciios were mo it flourishing m Tennes
see. Kent .cky a .and uthe • of Hie Central
states of the south, held its convention ity
Shreveport, a id it was do h ied t • consoli
date tho two orders. Tills decision ws
ratified at a convention held in Meridian.
Mis*., in December, IHSS, and the name of
the c msolidated order became, for a tune,
the Farmers’ and Lab Tors’ Union. It ac-.
ceptod as members farmers, farm laborers,
mechanics (mostly rural, oiuntry school,
teachers, country physicians anil ministers
of the gos;l. Tho chief rosti ictio is wen*
tbat uu appl.cant for membership must t
white and over Ul years of ege.
Meanwhile, tho north western alliance had
been growing, the wheat farmers finding it*
no excellent medium through which to
continue the old com ■-l of lee producer*
against tbe transportation com mines for a
more equalized adjustment of rates. Each
order felt the need of co-operation with
the other section, of the country, audit*
December, 1889, delegates from the two
hold u c inference on tile neutral ground of
St. Ijouis, aad there ma le arrangements,
in convention, to com ilidate uu lor the title
of the National Farmer.’ Alliance and In
du Jtrial Umoi, the c msolidati in.of c mrsc,
to bo subject to ratification by the various
elate, county and district organizations.
Tho ratification has l oan general, and the
coining convention at Ocala, Fla., 1* the re
sult. M ire thau tbat, tins alliance, while
s: retching out to the Pacific c last, has also
been coining eastward until at last it bus
touched the Middle Atlantic states, so that,
as is claimed, the December convention
will, for tbe first timo. bo national in every
souse of the word. New E .gland still re
mains out iu the cold, partly became farm
ing i.s not s i much of on industry there now
as it was, but organizers have their eyes
already upon those eastern states, and pre
dict that the seed of the new order
will soon ho sown thero in fruitful
ground. In tho stuto of Now York,
with U. F. Allen of Allentown as organizer,
a membership of 3,000 Is already claimed,
and there ha* not yet been time to make
any real attempt to canvass the state. In
Now Jersey, where C. I*. Atkinson ha* been
appointed organizer, the membership is now
reported at 900. This, of course, is consid
ered a mere beginning, for, iu a state so
thinly populated as Florida, where thero are
only 00,000 voters, tho member.hip in the
alliance is 20.000. VV Ith ttie establishment
of the New York headquarters, great gain*
lu eastern membership are looked for, and
Mannger Wilson is called upon once or
oftoner ovary week to oitnMuh a district
alliance in a New York or New Jersey
township.
Alliance members ssy that their attitude
in matters political has been misrepresented.
They do uot, they say, want plaoo or power,
hut thoy do want legislation. While they
see no reason why a competent farmer
should be barred from office because of hi*
occupation, they will o leerfully support
me i of any other oocupatio i—oven lawyer*
on whom they can depend—f r the legisla
tion they want. The first attempt at shap
ing national legis atlon in tbe interest of
the alliance was made last year ii the Hi.:
Igiuis convention, when tho sub
treasury bill was prisonted and in
dorsed. it provides that tho government
fchuli accept deposits of produce, such ns
cotton, wheat and othor impo Isbable
staples, aud is.ue in exonange for 8J per
ce it. of such staples certificates ot deposit
which shall pass as u: currency, judas
silver certificate, paak Th s bill was intro
duced m both Hon ate and House l&.t session,
hut died iu committee. It is promised that
it will be introduced aifain and again, and
finally pushed to pas age. That is the
one national is.ue now favored bv ths alli
ance.
Every one knows what the farmers’ alii
nucomen did at the polls last election day.
They swept Kansas, Teuneow i aud South
Carolina; made gains in Georgia, Florida
nnd elsewhere in the south, and revolution-*
lz -d politics iu the northwest. In Tennessee
and Houth Carolina the newly elected gov
ernors are farmers and alliance men.
Five of the seven oongrarsaien
elected in Kansas were elected as
farmers’ alliance men. One of them ia<
B. 11. Cliver, the national vice presi
dent of the alliance. Two of tho new oon
grossmou from South Carolina ran as alli
ance democrats. it is claimed that sixty
members of the next congress have pledged
themselves to support ail alliance measures,
and that many others will not deem it safe
to oppose them. Alliance men claim a ma
jority ou joint ballot iu the South Carolina
legislature, ami say that they will send their
representative to the United States Senate.
It is openly asserted that there are aliiunc
majorities, although, perhups, within party
iiue-i, in the legislatures of Florida, Nortu
Carolina. Kansas und some of tho north
we-tern states. The alliance feels that at
last tiie farmers are on the high rood to
victory.
"And yet,” said un alliance farmer,
“while wo are beginning to realize what wa
can do, properly organlzsd, the talk about
capturing the presidency is confined to a
very few enthusiasts, in the first place, the
majority of our members are not going to
abandon the old parties in a presidential
election. Secondly, wo don’t want the
government, with its responsibilities and
powers. We waut to soe inoa elected who
will be loyal to us, and who will fight
legislation intended to giiud the farmer
down. Wo're doing practical work now
anil have no time for wilcigo so excur
sions. It used to cost cotton planters from
18 to 80 per cent, for a ioan. and they have
so little margin of profit that they must
work ou borrowed money. The alliance
now sc -s to it that planters cot loans at 8
per cent. Then, too, we ell the.r cotton
for cash. That’s practical, is it not! So is
our effort to elect men, of whatever party,
who will be true to us. When we g> be
yond that vre get into moonshine and
drive away our own supporters. We are
not going to do anything ridiculous at the
Florida convention.”
L. L. Polk of Washington, D. C., is now
president of the alliance, and Congrossman
e eot B. H. Clover of Kansas is vice presi
dent. The secretary is J. H. Turner of
Washington. D. C., and the treasurer W.
H. Hickman of Missouri. Tho election of
new officers will be one of the interesting
features of the oonveution. The head of
tho order aud its chief guiding spirit is
pretty generally acknowledged to lie I)r. C.
W. Macuuo, whose present address is
Washington, D. C. He is chairman of tha
executive board It is expected that B.WX)
delegates will attend the convention. The
alliance will also oo and iet the Semi-Tropical
exposition, which will be opened in Ocala,
Dec. 1, aud continued ninety days.
W. H. CUBTIB, J A
