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FART two.
BY MUTUAL CONSENT.
By J. MARSDEN SUTCLIFFE,
Author of “The Belle of St. Baryabas,” “Tiie Romance of an Insurance Of
fice," “Revealed by Fire,” Etc., Etc.
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ]
SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.
Chapters I. to lll.—Winifred Denison, the
Tife of Capt. Denison, a gambler and tone, is
titling in a quiet room in the Station Hotel at
Y ( ,r,;. On y a few duys before her infant child
hud dieJ. end she had resolved to sever the tie
which hou and her to her husband, as far a* she
was able, by renouncing her name and leaving
mm to carry on his life of shame alone. The
captain received tile news of her determination
with calmness, as he hod become somewhat
tired of the passee face of his yourg wife, on
which sorrow hod left its impress. After they
I art Winifred, who had taken her maiden name
of West, sees from ft newso iper that two sons
of bir John Denison have met with an untimely
death, and that he himself was at the point of
drato. She considers that perhaps in a few
hours her lawful husband will bo .Sir Reginald
Denisou, and she—wi lbe Winifred West.
CHAPTER IV.
“Cone up bis eyes ana draw the curtain close;
Ami Set us all to meditat on.”
Alverthorpe, the ancestral homo of the
Denisons, is a fine old Tudor mansion with
quaint gables and turrets, standing in a
spacious and well timbered park,beneath the
shales of whoso giant oaks and chestnut
“the ar.t.erVl deer” browse ar.d rest. Suffolk
contains no finer specimen of this pictur
esque order of architecture, which, having
reactel its meridian in the reign of Queen
Bes, has come to be known as Elizabethan.
Next to the mansion itself, and the noble,
worded I ar;t in which it stands, Alver
thorpa is famous for its fish ponds—said to
have been constructed by the monks of the
dismantled Abbey of Alverthorpe—and its
ueer.
Fallow deer are to be seen in abunnd
ance, sporting in the fine glades of the park;
but the large rei deer were the pride of .Sir
John Denison, whose only hobby it was to
keep up the quality of the herd.
But the dark shadow that sooner or later
visits all homes has placed the slpendors of
Alverthorpe under eclipse. In the great
state-chamber, where, time out of m:ml,
generations of Denisocs have breathed their
last, the baronet lies—an image of “life and
death.”
Ten days have elapsed since the news cf
the disaster in the Solent stretched Sir
John speechless and unconscious. His eldest
and youngest son have perished by
aa 'incident that was clearly
demonstrated at the inquest to
have been prevantihle. Tneir bodios
have been recoverod and laid in their
final resting place beneath the chancel of
the Abbey church at Alverthorpe. But
Sir John has betrayed no sign of what
passes around him. Sir Julius Venn, the
eminent Loudon physician, who has looked
gravely on th3 symptoms, from the first, has
departed for town with a final gloomy
snake cf the head. He can do no more for
him. No one can. So deep is his slumber
that wero it not for the mechanical rising
and falling of the chest it might seem 1o the
three tileat watchers by his couch that the
functions of life have already ceased. Noth
ing but Sir John’s floe constitution could
have availed t > havo kept tho enemy so
bng at bay. But it is a matter now of a
few days or may be a few hours, and all will
be over.
lady Denison, a gentle, white haired old
lauy with a sweet, patient face, has scarcely
quitted her husband’d side since his seizure,
but watches anxiously, though without
hope, by his piliow. Tier only daughter,
the countess of Poleliamptoa is with her
mother in this bitter hour of trouble. But
there is one other who shares her sorrowful
vigil, who is even dearer to Lady Den sou
just now tbao her own daughter. This is
-*irs. John Denison, the newly made widow
of her eldest son, a petite blonde with a
small child-like face and pleading eyes, who
sits with her tiny hand locked in that of the
elder lady.
It seems to them as though their deeper
sorrow has made them more closely allied
than any tie of blood could do. Mrs. Deni
son has developed a:i unexpected strength of
character und a capacity for controlling her
own grief in order to console the sorely
tried mother who, having been bereaved of
two of her sons at one fell swoop, watches
now bv the dying bed of her husband. The
brave little spirit has found an anodyne for
her own sorrow in tho work of ministering
to Lady Denison.
Nevertheless her own terrible loss is
keenly felt. It is not many months since she
wore the bridal wreath; and she is painfully
young to Lave passed eo rapidly through
."Stages maiden, wife and widow. Her
nusband fell in love with her when a young
man fresh from Oxford, whilst she was a
mere child, and had waited till she could
*}? 1:0 claim her. And this was tbeond
oi it ail! a bright idyllic dream of hanpi
too bright to last, followed by a rush of
g.eut darkness I The bridal wreat h laid aside
” the widow’s cap, that looked strangely
T Pl ? ce on 60 young and girlish a
Lite is only too full of iiucli sad con-
UuNtS,
°f Cft pt Denison a His family
Air rd n °thig of him since he left
hi, i orpe , near ly 'our years ago with the
t-'fock in his pocket. Since these
s-H • * S “ as !!, ade no sign, and his mother
: ‘ , si f; er are perplexed by his long silence.
t , , ‘ niiiton ( f Bruton Towers, Lady Deni
j .' -arest neighbor, has set inquiries on
w "Jth the view of discovering t!ie
la-'!'*“ uU l s the prodigal, but nothing
'toinoof his efforts so fur, except soni3
“ppieasant revelations of Capt. Denison’s
whi-'s r 1,18 careor since he left the army,
r nr ” '. *ord Bruton had deemed it best to
,!' - his own breast. Lord Polehamp
~ ! "h' So duties as a minister of the
, 11 h ave him little leißuie in these stir
*- :as 'tone his best, likewise, with
reg „ - object, but with tho some barren
Rer .. P . KroUD °f sorrow-stricken women
,Tr>, a '-bing the slowly ebbing life in the
in ' i • mn 'b ur a servant entered tho
1 and silently beckoned the countess ot
.;* anipton away.
!:. °/ Bruton has called, my lady.
, ' 10 ‘ ,rp ukfaHt room. Air. jobsuu
! ' t that you would like to see him.”
id n., uie * lam Pton bowed her stately
- V! a .i swept down the stair
. ' tlle breakfast room, where Lord
ad u', f a vn i lo,U|J 10 n >oet her, held her
“in. . R hizmg pressure.
"'ovein ’ H / rr y ’J! hear that there is no iro
i,, 1 , 111 Wr John. Jolison tells me
..y' t ; J . ul ‘us Venn ims loft.”
u i. 2'* 1 * not return. We ore
‘ *"k L-r the mid, which eaunot bo
a,„/ ’ “mriuured the eouutess m alow
’•i-utoii Woi distressed to hear that
his o.d trnv and was past
i!,’ ' ' • , P>e'..d 11U dee > oonceru at Uni
"oiiis from other lips would
have sounded cold ar.d common-plaoa, but
Lord Bruton was a man of singular re
serve, with whom a few words went a long
way.
“Have you any news of Reginald ?” asked
Lvdy Polehampton, presently. “He i eally
ought to be here. lie is the next heir, you
know.”
“Indeed; I was not aware cf that. I un
derstood there was a chance ”
And there Lord Bruton stopped.
“I wish it were so with all my heart.
You have been misinformed. You willnot
havo the discomfort of having to wait to
s e whether it is ab>y or a girl. There is
no it in the case,” said Lady Polehampton.
with a faint s i.ile. “I think it was the dis
appointment that John had left no heir be
hind him that has killed my father, quite as
much us the shock of hearing of toe death
of my brothers. He was verv bitter against
Reginald.”
Lord Bruton could not say that his old
friend’s resentment against his second sou
was unjust. If half that he had heard of
the proceedings of Capt. Denison were true,
Sir John had only too much reason on his
sido for banishing his son from his hearth.
“I am sorry that I cannot light on any
trace of Reginald,” bo said. “He has a
house in town, I And—near Cavendish
street—but it has been closed for some
months past, and I cannot obtain any tid
ings of him.”
“A house in town,” cried Lady Poiehamp
ton, with a star: ot surprise. “How is he
able to manage that! Is he married?” she
asked, the idea crossing her mind that per
haps Capt. Denison had drawn a lucky prize
in the matrimonial market.
“My information does not lead me to sup
pose that he is married,” said Lord Bruton,
dryly. “The best thing that you can do
when he returns will be to find him a wife
who will steady him.”
“I suppose his past will not bear looking
into,” said Lady Polehampton, with a quick,
eager glance of inquiry.
“I would no: trouble about his past if I
were you. He may be a second Prince Hal
and prove worthier when he comes to his
kingdom. There is nothing like a sense of
resposibility for steadying a man. I should
be disposed to rely oil that, seconded by a
good wife, to effect his reform. A man’s
future is not always to be guagod from his
past.”
“True,” said Lady Polehampton, who was
ready to catch any straw of comfort, “but
meanwhile the question is where is he to be
found?”
But Lord Bruton could offer no assistance
to the solution of the problem of Capt. Deni
son’s whereabouts. Ho could only assure
Lady Polehampton of Ills own c mviction
thatj though he was probably absent from
England, his absence would prove to be of
brief duration.
At this moment, however, Jobson, the
butler e itered the room bearing a telegram
on a silver salver. It was addressed to
Lady Denison; but the countess, who had
taken over the management of affairs at
Alverthorpe into her own hands, delayed
not to acquaint herself with its contents.
The telegram proved to be from Capt.
Denison, and was addressed from Monte
Carlo.
Lady Polehampton quickly tcok in the
message. Something in its terms seemed to
offend her, as was evident from the slight
pucker on her brow aud the contemptuous
curl of her lip 03 she handed the telegram
to Lord Bruton.
“Deeply distressed”—so ran the message.
“Bear up. dearest, mother. Am leaving to
night. Hope to find rat father better.”
Lady Polehampton felt that tho filial ten
derness, though haltingly expressed, was
sightly overdone. She could not forget
how Sir John Denison’s last years had boon
embit’ered by the conduct of his sob; nor
could she overlook the alienee of four long
years. “It is satisfactory to know that the
nows has reacted him, and tout he is on his
way,” said Lord Bruton, soothingly.
“Yes, it relieves our anxiety so far. Un
fortunately he will not arrive in time to see
my father alive. It seems impossible for him
to live through another day.”
Nevertheless a gr -at load was taken from
Lady Polehampton’s mind, and when Lord
Bruton left her the sigh that broke from her
was unmistakably a sigh of relief. It was
something gained, sho felt, that the news
had reached her brother in time for him to
be present at the funeral ns the new head of
tho bouse. Sir John would not bo buried,
as his two sons had boeu buried, without a
kinsman of his blood being present to pay
him the last honors due to the dead.
CHAPTER V.
“Let all tbs tsars that should bedew my hearse
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head;
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
Giyethat which gave thee life unto the worms.”
How often in any given matter vitally
affecting our interests are wo the last persons
to hear the news that principally concerns
ourselves!
Capt. Denison’s experience proved an illus
tration of the truth of this remark. When
he consented to a separation from his wife
at York, he lost no time iu making new
plans. He stayed one night at his houso in
Cavendish street. Having disposed of his
gaming tables to a broker and placed tha
house in the hands of ail agent, he left next
day by the night mail for Pam en route for
Monte Carlo.
Ho remained in Paris nearly a week, in
dulging iu his favorite amusements. Ho
met no one whom he knew, and he did not
trouble to read an English newspaper. The
only papers ho was ever known to patronize
were tho organs entirely devoted to sport,
and these, even if he had consulted tuem,
would have conveyed to him no informa
tion of the sudden and unlooked for change
that had taken place in his prospects. It
thus came to pass that ho left Paris for
Monto Carlo in ignorance of the turn in for
tune’s wheol tiiut had made him heir to one
of the oldest baronetcies in England and to
vast estates, with tho prospect of almost
.immediate possession.
Capt. Denison might have remained in
this state of ignorance but for an accidental
rencontre with Lord A!gy Fitziierbert. On
the evening of bis arrival at Monte Carlo
Capt. Doaison entered the Casino for a pre
liminary survey of the happy hunting
ground where he had often won and lost
heavily, by turns. Ho had just plaukod a
N ■ tjolean on “the red,” by way of consult
lag the auguries, to ascertain whether tho
iuek was with him, when his attention was
attracted by a stranger who bus standing
opposite to him, arrayed la an evening
dress, with an immensity of faultless snirt
front visible behind the loosely worn cloak,
who waxen gig and in making a succession of
abortive attempts to lix hie eye-sdas*. Tho
stranger wits evidently an Englishman.
That was clear at the first glance. To
whom else could that lace of akucet infan
tile sim'ilicitv, the thin hair s inyjtnljr pined
SAVANNAH. HA.. SUNDAY. DECEMBER 7. 181)0.
down the middle, aud the gorgeous get up
on the strictest liGes of conventiocalitv be
long?
It did not need a second glance t > assure
f apt, Denison that the richly bedizened
creature, with the absence of anything ap
proaching to sapience in his looks, oould b>
none other than Lord Algy Fitzherbert.
Put ha took no step toward a mutual recog
nition iu his amusement at Lord Algy’s pa
tient efforts to gut his oye-glass fixed. An
other and yet another attempt was made
before Lord Algy succeeded, followed by a
long stare aud a gasp of astODishmeut.
\\ non Capt. Denison saw that he w as recog
nized he threw a careless nod of recognl
tio i iu Algy’s direction, laughing to himself
at the success that had at last crowned his
compatriot’s efforts.
“Hallo, old chappie.” exclaimed Lord
Algy with astonishment, ‘’what are you
doing here? I thought it was you; but
somehow I couldn’t believe it. I felt certain
that you must be at Alverthorpe.”
“Did you?” raid Capt. Denison, care
lessly. “Well, you are mistaken, Algy.
But i: is not the first mistake you have
made; is it?”
Capt. Denison was irritated at the refer
ence to Alverthorpe. It did not occur to
him that any special significance was to bo
attacho 1 to Lord Algy’s remark, though his
tone was pointod enough to challenge at
tention. The fact that ho had been dis
owned by liis family be had carefully
guarded as secret from his most intimate
acquaintances, with whom he was anxious
to make good his footing cs the son of the
richest baronet in England. Lord Algy
could not kuow, therefore, that his relations
with Alverthorpe had been broken off by
the inflexible refusal of Sir John Denison
to see bis son. Nevertheless, Lord Algy’s
remark struck au unpleasant chord, since it
reminded him of his fall, and hinted at a
relationship that Capt. Denison had his own
reasons for knowing had eeas and to exist.
But he did not suffer his annoyance to ap
pear. He linked his arm in Lord Algy’s
and proposed a stroll, and together they left
tho Casino.
Lord Algy Fitzherbert’s wits were not of
the sharpest, or he would not have fallen
so easily a prey to Capt. Denison’s net.
But dull though his understanding was, he
could not fail t > perceive that his friend
was ignorant of the fate that had overtaken
his brothers and that it fell to him to be the
bearer of evil tidings. Tho responsibility
rudely disturbed the fine edge on which
Lord Algy’s mind was balanced, and at the
thought of the duty that devolved upon
him a cold sweat broke over him. For
some moments he was at difficulty how to
proceed, whilst Capt. Denison, ignorant of
his companion’s embarrassment, chatted
gaily by his side.
“No, now, really; don’t you know?
Haven’t you heard?” te managed to stam
mer forth at last.
Capt. Denison stared at the youth in
blank astouishisbment, wondering whether
he had taken sudden leave of his senses.
“When did you leave England?” asked
Lord Algy, perceiving his look of surprise.
“Nearly a fortnight since.”
“And have you beard nothing since com
ing away?”
“Come, man, and pull yourself together,
and say what you have to say,” cried Capt.
Denison, impatiently. “Make a clean breast
of it, and look sharp.”
“But, ’non my word,” protested Lord
Algy, “this is really terrible to have to tell
a fellow. The Sea Mew —you have hoard of
her now, haven’t you?”
“A kind of bird or a fish, isn’t it?” said
the captain, smiling good bumoredly.
“No. I mean your brother’s yacht”
“What of her? I didn’t know that he
owneda yacht,” said Capt. Denison.
“On, yes, he did, and poor fellow he went
down in her off the Isle of Wight,” he man
aged to blurt out at last.
Capt. Denison’s interest was now deeply
roused. For a moment his heart gave a
great bound, and his temples throbbesl
painfully. It was in accordance with his
selfish nature that his first thoughts should
bs given not to the untimely death o£ his
brother, but to the change which that event
made in his own position. If Lord Algy
could be relied upon, fortuno was indeed
smiling upon him. He saw himself suc
ceeding to a i immense property and an
historical title, unless his brother, who he
knew had not long been married, had left
an heir behind him. But the first thing to
do was to ascertain whether Lord Algy’s
information was correct.
“When did this happen?” ha asked, after
a pause. “Tell me all about it and remember
I ara quite in the dark.”
“It is not many days sicce it happened—a
week, or porhtpa ten days. Tho yacht was
run down, I betieye, and both your brothers
went down with her.”
"Both of them drowned?" cried Capt.
Denison. “Are you quite sure of this,
can soon know yourself. Let us
go to the hotel. You will find it all in the
Times."
Capt. Denison acted upon the hint and
turned his footsteps in the direction of the
Hotel de Paris, where one of the waiters pro
duced for him a file of the Times, where he
found the story that was destined to affect
his fortunes so powerfully und iu a manner
so unlocked for fully confirmed.
Then he fell to thinking what ho would do
next —a question fraught with some diffi
culty, ihe terms on which be had parted
with Sir John four yearß before wore not of
a character to encourage him in venturing
on a visit to Alverthorpe uninvited. But
on consulting the latest edition of the
Times, and discovering that his father was
lying unconscious and given up by the
doctors, he decided on returning to Eng
land.
“It is quite true, Algy,” ho said, after
completing his examination of trie news
papers. “I think I must send a telegram to
my mother.”
He called for a form, and spent much
time in considering the terms of the mes
sage, with the result that he announced his
return with a carefully worded condolence,
that the reader knows of, and which he
Imagined would pave the way to a welcome
home. But he was in no hurry to make
his preparations for departure. It would
serve bis purpo-e if he left on the morrow.
Meanwhile he sat discussing with Lord
Algy the change of his prospects and the
alteration that would take place in his
habits. He congratulated him<elf on the
wisdom of tha step he had taken in placing
his house in Cavendish street in the hands of
an agent for reletting.
“Is Mrs. Denison with you?’ asked Lord
Algy in one of the pauses of the conversa
tion.
“Mrs. Denison? What do you mean?"
asked Capt. Denson, his brow overclouding
at tbe mention of his wife’s name.
“Ah, well, I suppose she wasn’t your
wife," said Lord Algy, witu an air of supe
rior knowledge.
“YVhat should have put such an absurd
idea into your bead, Algy f”
“She is u deuced uretty girl, whatever else
she may bo,” said Lord Algy. “You might
do a fellow a go.id turn, Denison.”
“In what way?"asked Capt. Denison.
There was a sharpness in his tone that
might hate warned a douser intellect than
Lor 1 Alg/ that this wasadau
gorous line to pursue; but ho rushed blindly
on.
“If ycu havo chucked tho girl up you
might tell the fellow where she U to bs
“You itglv little tackauape,” cried Capt.
Deu sou, hotly, “If 1 bear of you persecuting
that lady witu any of your abominable at
tenttjus I will br*ak every hose in your
wretch >d carcass. 1 will, so help me
heaven!’’
There is an element of go J iu tho most
depraved, wauling only tho opportunity t >
declare itself. Lord Algv’s request touched
a true chord, even in the breast of one who
had fallen so low as Capt Denison; upd how
low bo had fallsu wo have seen. He hod
dragged his young and innocent wife
through the vilest mire that a guileless soul
could be dr gged through without receiving
irreparable contamination. lie bad rx
iv >sed to her the foulest insults from his gam
bling associates, that only gl need aside be
cause of the unassailable parity of her na
ture. Even now he bad deliberately misled
Lord Algy to infer that the woman who had
plighted her girlish troth to him when as
yet the full consequences of lor act wore
hidden from her unsophisticated heart, an ’,
whom he had sworn to “love and cherish”
was a thing of infamy, lie hud laughed
brutally in Winifred's face when she asked
him whether their visitors knew that she
was his wife, being abandoned to tho pur
suit of tho simpering aotorousuess of a
man like Lord Algv Fitzherbert, who ap
praised tho virtue of every woman < utsiilo
his own order as a commodity to pass iuto
bis p svssion in exchange lor a check on
his Lanke:s, bis blood boiled within him.
His own wrongs to his unhappy wife
seemed light in comparison with the wrong
that would Ixi done to her if she were to be
come tho iigbt-o’-lovo of such a man as Algy
Fitzherbert.
Capt. Denison quitted the stnok-j room of
the hotel, in whicu this canversation took
place, b -fore 1 jord Algy could recover from
the astonishment iuto which he was thrown
by the unexpected outburst—leaving him
exposed to the curious gaze of several mull
sitting near who hadoverueard Capt. Deni
son’s angry meu .ee.
Capt. Denison left Monte Carlo next uay
on his homeward journey. He fouud
plenty of food for reflection in the altered
state of his fortunes. Ho quietly chuckled
to himself as he reinembeied that the es
tates were entailed, and that it was out of
Sir John’s power now to make good his
threats of disinheritance. The craze of the
gambler clung to turn still, though ho per
ceived clearly enough that the experiment
be had tried in Cavendish street must bo
given up aud the memory of it buriud in
oblivion. But he would able, ho thought, to
afford to keep a racing stud and resume his
membership at the clubs; aal au occasional
fling at baccarat would servo to remind
him of old times aud satisfy his old thirst.
And Winifred, what of her? She would
be Lady Denison, if sho hail her rights.
But he had not the .-lightest intention that
the compact, made at \ ork should be broke t.
They had each agreed to go their own way,
promising not to moles: each other, aud if
circumstances should briug them face to
face, they hud bouud themselves to meat as
strangers. Capt. Denison vowed to himself
that he would insist on tho oonipaot being
kept to the lotter. It was one thing, ho
thought, for him, without position and
without character, an adventurer living on
hi3 wits, to mate wi‘s the penniless dangn
ter of au ox-urruy otfleor who had struggled
to live on a miserable retiring allowance in
a third rate Paris bearding house, and quite
another affair to own up to such mesal
liance now that he was the richest baronet
in England.
With his rank and fortune, ho reflected,
ho might marry Into one of the be t fami
lies, aud ho mentally pictured to himself the
noblest patrician houses competing with
each other for the honor of his alliance.
The tedious journey came to an end at
last. He reached Alverthorpe earlier than
bo was expected, for ho hud come straight
through without giving himsolf time to
rest, and he had neglected to give due notice
of tho time of his arrival. Whou tho train
drew up at tho station ha found no convey
ance except tfle hotel-fly. As he was doubt
ful of tho reception which might bo uwait
ing him, ho felt more than one twinge of
cjuscience and a little depressed at tho
omission. But ha had time during the six
miles drive to recover his spirits.
He had left ho ne four years ago under
widely different circumstances. Then ho
was the scapegrace son, whose reform was
past hoping for. Now he was the heir to
Alverthorpe, and soon to be its master. Tho
thought cheered him, an i tho last trace ot
his uneasiness vanished when he fouud him
self being respectfully saluted by Jobson,
his father’s old and valued servant, who met
him in the hall with many apologies.
"How Is my father?” he asked, as Job
son, assisted him to divest himself of his
coat.
“I am sorry to tell you, Sir Reginald,
that Sir John is no rnofo."
“When did this happen?”drawing himself
back in affected astonishment.
"Sir John died three days ago, Sir Reg
inald.”
Sir Reginald! How sweet the title
sounded in his ears ? It told him all he
wanted to know, but which ho had felt it
would be difficult to inquire about. His
brother had died childless and everything
was his.
•'Where is my mother?” he inquired, after
a pause.
‘ Lady Denison is in the library. The
C auite9s of Polehampton is with her. Lady
Bruton called yesterday and took Mrs.
John Denison away with her to Bruton
Towers."
“Shall I announce you, Sir Reginald?”
asked the old man after another pause in
which the now baronet stood in a thought
ful attitude.
“Is that necessary?”
The old servitor bowed deprecatingly,
and 4Pir Reginald went to tbe library, wb-.-ro
he found his mother and sister. Although
they had not looked for his coming so soon,
there was no expression of surprise when he
entered. He took both his mother’s hands
iu his, and kissed her on each cheek, mur
muring as he did so, "Believe me, mother, I
aui truly grieved at what has happened.”
Lady Denison returned his kiss with grave
affection aud looked eagerly into his face, as
though she would penetrate tbe secrets of
his soul, hoping to find some evidence of the
repentant prodigal. But if such ivos her ex
pectatiou sue was disuppomted, It was a
handsome face to look upon, though the
long acquilino nose and tbe furtive eyes
were unpleasantly suggestive of a bird of
prey, whilst cutiniue and selfishnesi bad
printed tbeir mark indelibly upon liim.
Evidently the impaction was far from
satisfactory to Lady Denis m. Hhe had not
seen him for four years, and she saw changes
in biru which saudeneJ her. Hhe released
his hands, and as he timed to salute h;s
sister the stricken mother sank down in her
seat aud .vailed forth in a low tone, “Oh,
Reginald, my sou, my son!”
Roor Lady Deni oj, sho wa3 a mother,
and of all nor brood sue had loved this
speckled bird best of all. But she could not
help feeling that the family honor had and
- tied to unworthy hands to keep, nor
could she help wondoring why he should bo
spared, who had ever been a trouble to her
from Lii wild, willful boyhood, whilst tbe
two sous who would have sustained the
old name in honor had been taken from bor.
CHAPTER VI.
“Ail thoogbts, alt passion*, all delights,
Wuaterer stirs tins mortal frame.
All are fair ministers of love.
and feed bis sacred flu ns.’’
‘“Nur.-a West, ‘Number forty-two’ ia
awake and atlUug for you.”
lea information is ao.om earned by such
a miscbievoua glance from tbe merry blaolc
eyes of Nur*e bkiro. that Winifred, though
sue struggle! bard, oauoot help nioshlag
violently. It is the common g *lp amoi.g
toe uui c* at ttt. Jude’s Hospital toot there
never wus such an eructiip pa’lent as
“number forty-two”—os ocial v since ho
has turned an ugly corner ad h hi the
way for convalescence. They declare that
they r.ever know a patient display so much
anxiety fur Ins nurse’s society us “nuintier
forty-two” for Winifred’s, aud they affirm
that such dsvotiou cau only have oae post!-
ble ending.
Winifred has found herself made the sub
ject of a good deal of innocent banter in
consequence, a:.d unfort inately she cannot
prevent the tell-tale color leaping into her
face whenever “number forty-two’’ is men
tioned by one of the railing sisterhood in the
significant tone of Nurse (Tore.
“There, I declare he is never satiafi.nl un
!e s you are tear him,” sho eoutiuues.
“Morning, noon nml night, it is alwnvs the
same. ‘Where is Nurse West?' ‘Cannot
Nurse West corns?’ ‘Please tell Nurse West
that 1 wish very much to speak to her, if it
is nut Inc'mvonlent.’ He cannot help making
you an offer before he leaves. You see if
ho doesn't.”
But Winifred, who lmd laid aside her
plain sewing on which sue was engaged
when the summons come, turned aw ay to
leave the room before Nurso Gore hod time
to complete this address, so that the latter
missed seeing the face died scarlet with
which “Nurse West" hurried awny t > the
ward where “number forty-two” was lying.
Porhaps the blushes would havo been less
quick to come iuto Winifred’s face if there
had not been some consciousness in her
mind, though imperfectly realized, that a
dangerous intimacy had boon established
between “number forty-two” and herself
which was destined to effect the whole cur
rent of her life, for good or for evil.
it was certainly remarkable that no
change in Winifred’s aiiprarauoe was over
lest on her patient. He looked at tier in
quiringly when she came to the bed on
which nl was lying, mid before sho had
time to speak, fce asked:
“What is the matter, nurse? You look
quite boated.”
“Do you want anything. Mr. Maclean?”
sbe asked, deftly seeking to turn the conver
sation away from herself.
"Yes, X want you,” was tho reply, deliv
ered with unnecessary fervor. “Are you so
very busy that you cannot spare a fellow
live minutes?”
“I am hot too busy to do anything that
you require," said Winifred, distantly.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Yes, you may puss that basket of grapes,
if you please.”
Winifred brought to Mr. Maclean a beau
tiful basket of English hot-house grapes.
“Now help yourself,” he said with a
quaintly authoritative air.
"Really you knew that I must net do
that,” replied Winifred, making a feint of
obedience by tearing one grape from the
rich, heavy dark clusters.
But tin. perfunctory compliance with his
wishes did cot satisfy Mr. Maclean, who
took the basket from Winifred's hands, and
selecting the finest cluster placed it m her
lap.
"Please don’t,” exclaimed Winifred iu
a distressed tone. “It is very kind of you,
but is very wrong. I really cannot take
them.”
“ What nonsense,” cried Mr. Maclean, im
patiently. “I suppose I may give a bunch of
grapes to my nurse without breaking the
rules of the establishment. If not, so much
worse L r tho the rules.”
“It is not that Mr. Maclean,” cried Wini
fred, speaking hurriedly. “It is not that ut
all. It is—it is—”
Winifred broke down in her endeavor to
explain. How could she tell him that such
attentions as those, harmless though they
were, provoked eomme.t among the
nurses, which she was anxious to avoid for
his sake no less than for her own? How
could Blie tell him t hat unless lie required
her services he had bolter ref ii; n rum send
ing such messages as the one which Nurse
Dora had just delivered? Yet this was what
she had in her mind to say when sho tegan
to speak. Tliacorißcioueuoßs that she was
ab ut to commit herself, which checked her
speech, now served to cover her with fresh
confusion.
“How pretty you look when you blush,
exclaimed Mr. Maclean. "Not that v u
don’t look pretty at other times. You do.
But when you blush Do you know,
Miss West,” by continued more earnestly,
"do you know that you are the loveliest
wedian 1 ever saw?"
The frank audacity with which tho com
pliment was uttered robbed it of its oifonsi ve
ncs.;. Nothing was furtlier from Mr.
Maclean’s intention than to wound Winifred
by uumeanihg flattery. He was Minply be
trayed into expressing, in that downright
boyish manner, which sat so well upon him,
wh'it was to him a cardinal article of be
lief, and what he fe’.t must ho the fixed
opinion of every other person who saw
Winifred.
Certainly the compliment was not
unobserved. Eighteen months have
rolled by since last wo saw
Winifred, sitting sad and lonely in
the hotel at York. Tr ey have been months
of hard work, for she was fortunate enough,
after a brief training, to bo appointed one ot
nursesatthe Wes; End hospital, whore she
found her duties anything but a sinecure.
Hut they have been mouths of serene peace
and liappiuess, arid they have effected won
ders for her both in mind and body. She
has been at rest within herself, knowing
that she was usefully and honorably em
ployed, and her health had returned with
the revival of her spirits. Her cheeks have
recovered their rounded outlines, and her
suuple, graceful figure has acquired a full
ness which was wanting when she was first
prosented to the reoder, and which now de
clares itself in magnificent curves, on which
the artistic eye of the Hon. Claude Mac ean
dwells with an artist’s delight in the beauti
ful. Nevertheless Winifred resented the
admiration which Mr. Maclean makes no
effort to conceal.
“You mako mo very uueomfortablo when
you spe.ik in this way,” she said imploringly.
“1 wish you would not do it. Remember I
am a servant here, earning my bread, and
paid for my services, and liable to be dis
missed at a moment’s notice.”
“I will remember nothing of the kind,”
retorted Sir. Maclean, hotly. And then see
ing the grave i .ok of aunoyauee that passed
over tho beautiful face of his nurse, he
added penitently. “I will only remember
that you are a lady, and I will try in the fu
ture not t > annoy you. ”
Winifred returned him a grateful glance
and thanked him, and Mr. Macleun turned
the conversation into anew channel.
“How do you liko my mother?'’ be asked.
“I think Lady Kalcouridge is exceedingly
handsome,” ahe replied. “.She is the sweet
eat lady, too, that I have ever known.”
“Hho has taken a great fancy to you. Bbo
is not ‘sweet,’ as you call it, to everybody.
It u only when sue takes to a person, aud
she has taken to you amazingly, Bho can
bo most oppressively dignified and chilling,
I assure you, when she take* a dislike.”
“Hae bos not oppressed you very much,”
said Winifred, smiling.
"No,” cried Mr. Maclean, laughing mer
rily. “The dear mother has Just left me to
•gang my ain gait,’ as wo say in Scotland.”
“Doe. she often coon- to London?” asked
Winifred.
“She has never been to town vmoo the
death of my father. which took place when
1 was quite a little chap, until this con
founded accident of mine brought her up.
It is years aud years since the has slept out
side the wall* Of (Heu-Orhjob Castle, and I
don't wyp Hhfliu same thing will ever taap
r*“ will like Uleu-Orlocb,” he ce*.
Oiaued, "UwoghyoJßiay uet think tuifc I
of it for comfort. But iu summer it is
pleasant enough,”
“it is not likely that I shall triable t-i ac
cept Lady Ealo nridge's invitation," sail
Winifred.
“But it is all settled. Did you not know
that my nio:her spoke übont Ittotheiiu
thorities when she was hero yesterday? She
has arranged everything. Yen am to have
a month’s leave of absence in August, and
you are 1 1 be Lady Falconriuge’s guest at
Dlou-Orloch.”
The pros|iort nponol out by Lidy Fa Icon
ridge's invitation was very attractive to
W i ifred, but she di,l not know that mat
ters tad gone so far. When the invitation
was given ahe thanked Lady Falco'iridge
for her kindness, but in terms that loft it
doubtful whethtr her engagements at tho
ho mitnl would lender its acceptance T* mu -
bio. Evidently laidy Fal •onrulee bau not
so undersro <1 her meaning, or she had gone
to work In her own way to remove what
she considered to 1 e the only impediment
iu Winlfr.-d’s path. But WinilrcJ was
conscious of an element if dinger to liar
peace if she ventured to Glen-Orlocit and
was thrown into daily companionship with
her handsome patient. She would have
been still tin i't> disturbed if she bad known
tho circumstances under which iho invita
tion had been broug it about.
Lady Falconridge was strongly drawn to
Winifred from tho hour w hen first they mot
by tho bolshie where her son lay uncon
scious, the result of nil accident iu winch
the Honorable Claude Ma lean hud been
thrown from nit horse at Hyde i ‘ark corner,
iu which bo had sustained a bovorc concus
sion and several broken ribs. The feeling
which had drawn her to Wuilfrod from tho
beginning was immune dv strengthened now
that lie ■ soil mu out of danger, ami she
was iufortnod by the surgeon who had
chsrge of the ease that, next to Ills own
splendid constitution, Mr. Maclean owed ins
lito lo the intelligence aud devotion of
Nurse Won. Lady Fuiconildge wai anx
ious to show Winifred some return, and it
was in her mind that n change from tho
stifling ward of a Lund n hospital in tho
summer months to the breezy situation and
pure mountain air of Dleu-Orloeh would to
a welc. ino benefit. Sho was still mentally
debating tho point when a Oom.nuuiantiuu
from her soil deolJeil her.
Only yesterday Claude Maclean had told
his mother thut he had met h:s fate in tho
beautiful woman whs had nursed film hack
to life, “i’romlse me that, you will not
speak to her of this until wo know her
bettor, and I will oak her to stay with moat
Hluu-Orloeh,” sho had itrid, “If we find
her worthy I will not gainsay you."
And Claude Mucloan gave tho promise
required of him.
But of this Winifred kne"’nothing. Hho
only supposed that Lady Fulconriilge v.ns
anxious to prove her gratitude for her son’s
recovery, aim had chosen this way of show
ing it. Winifred acknowledged to herself
that tho change would lie bene]lota Ito her,
and though sbe was yet unaware that Claude
Macleau lmd possessed himself of the love
of her whole heart, sho scented danger
frotn afar aud dreaded what might bo the
result of an enlarging Intimacy witn one
who corresponded so entirely with her idoal
of noble manhood.
Her interest iu him had been excited from
tho moment that he was borne hit > the
ward bloediug and imeuiUble from his in
juries. She thought that she had never seen
s > yierfeet a spucitaon of manly physique,
and u warmer filtered than merely pro
ferslonul feeling diciuted bad inspired h -r to
second the efforts of the surgeons to save
the threatened life, For a long time the
issue hung in doubt. There was not ouly
the concussion to contehd against, but the
patient ha i rent.lvedsevere internal injuries.
As no lay iu his bed unconscious with his
long, powerful, well-knit .romo outlined by
tho btsd clothe >, ills clnssb- features and
noble brow whiter than the pillow on which
his head rested, ho looked to Winifred like
tho scutptuiod elligy of tome god-like hero
done in marble.
It was inevitable when oonvalesenco be
come established that confidences should be
exchanged. Though ouly :;7 und the young
est sou of a noble Scottish house, Claude
Maclean bed won for himself a name in
the world of art. He had tried his hand at
portraiture successfully, but ended by mak
ing landicupii bis forte, aud in this branch
of art be bade fair to win to himself a posi
tion amongst; ths first. Art wus tho one
subject on which W inifred’s enthusiasm
could most easily lie excited. In the op
portunities for conversation which occurred
whilst Claude Macleau was waiting for
his broken ribs to mend, Winifred loved to
draw him out to speak on the ore tbemo
which interested her so profoundly to tho
exclusion of any other.
Maclean noticed the enthusiasm which
was kindled by his conversation oa these
topics, and before long contrived to learn
all that Winifred bail to tell of herself.
Hhe told him of the lessons she had received
before her father’s wound entailed his re
tirement frptn tho army and < f the attempt*
she had afterward made to improve her
capabilities under bis instructions (for her
father was hitnsilf no menu artist) by mak
ing r> plicas of such small pictures ai he
selected in the galleries of tbe Louvre, ail
of his death, which ended her hopes ill this
direction. Every circumstance conspired
to bring thorn closer togothor and to
strengthen intimacy.
Of her marriage to Sir Reginald Denison
sho did rot apeak. It was Bold in tier :nmd
recurred to the fatal mistake of h r life, and
never without a feeling of horror and bitter
sense of shame which impelled her to ban
ish tho recollection. She ha-1 grown to thi-ik
of that dark episode iu h-r ox stance as a
droadful nightmare that had happened to
her in her slo-p and which the waking
reality had dispelled. Tho thought did not
present itself to her that the friendly rela
tions into which sho was drifting with tho
Honorable Claude Macleau might prove
injurious to his happiness. Ia some dim
way she was conscious of danger to herself,
but that a your.g man of high descent end
undoubted genius iu his profession would
lose his hosrt to a hospital nurse whom
chanoo had thrown in his way, did not oc
cur to her.
Ho it came to pass, (bat ehe bent to cir
cumstances like a reed before the wind, and
that one bright morning in August, after
breaking her journey for one night at Edin
burgh, when the train dre-v up at Dalmaliy
near too head of Loch A we, sho was saluted
by a. tall, stalwart y-.ung Bcotc iman.
Wearing a knlckerbockerauit -f grey tweed,
and a Ol ngarry cap perchod on Lis hand
some head.
Claude Maclean’s face, bronzed with ex
posure. was braining with happiness as be
assisted her to alight.
“I am very pleased to see vou, Mies
West,” he said, shaking her hard warmly,
“aud iny mother is waiting to give you ‘a
highland welcome’ a tilcii-Urcb.”
TO JIB CONTINUED.
At tbs recent exhibition of tin- German
socieUaa for tho train! Dg of carrier
pigeons, 1.211 prize bird* ware shown,
Bid of which have covered distanced
of MO-UDU miles at a ntreteb. 8W have re
leatally covered iMU-MO ratios, and tbe rest HO
IK) in fie i, A f estero of too eobiblttau was a
ftuck of thirty Urd* from tbeUulogua fortlltaa
twos. Tuey liave Ueo especially taafue-1 to
keep up c yinimiiileaiiou between tbs various
furireese*. and were taut to tie euCteth* to-Moo
PAGES 0 TO 12.
dolman pit! s for evening wsak
Pelfern’s Latest Confections for
Beauttful Women.
These latter days of the oe .tury are mak
ing evident tlie far' the dwellers in tills re
publican country, which has neither court
nor nobility, are in the matter of personal
adernment rising with, and, iu some cases,
sur|>Asing the arivt eracy in European
lands. Year by year the demand of society
People in our lug cities, and notably In Near
York, grow more <• inplex and extrava
gant, and our women strive Cos see which
shall pile upon her per-on tho most u liqu*
and costly raiment. lil > n t rofrr now to
jewels and rare lac s, but only to those
items of tho wardrobe th it can be
renewed each season if ono wished
to be in styl \ Bo ils tho dainty under
wear, the gloves, sho*-;, hosiery, and other
minor articles, the leaders of society must
havo thgir gowns by the sc ,re. with hots
atl bonnets to match; they must havo their
parasols, fans, inuffs, their costly furs,
their tailor coots and other wraps, ad ffor
eut ono fur each uay iu tho mouth. Aud
111
!I v'TIV’- -#V
■ i
tl4 - I
'
mmMmim, \~
'•i ■ . \
jm l tfa r -m
fBSp: /
liim
with tho te-glnning of tho sc -lea of dinners,
dances and opera nights, tboy require tha
most sumptuous and elegant of evening
wraps that can bo oontMved. These gar
mtmta may bo varied in shape, size mid
style, but the materials must boas rich and
coatly as tho purse can buy, and its lieauty
can lio enhanced by rare fur and
feather trimmings, and jeweled em
broidery or passementeries, If tha
wrap Is small and short, it
may bo modified after those designs by Hod
fern, of which the first is a capo of pala
yi-llow cloth, lined with bronze-brown
velvet, and made with capo epaulets of the
same volvot. A braided design in brown
and gold tnixo 1 braid is in the front corners,
and a band of o (rich feathers, shading
from brown to Ifght-vellow, bordors the
entire wrap. Tho higli Mj.lici collar in
lined with volvot.
Inf I iff
Tho other mo lel is a small dolman of
peach bl ssora satin, with bunds of loaf
gree.i velvet arranged in points down the
back, wt ich is linisbo-1 with a fancy silk
fringe of the contrasted colors. Tha sleeve*
ar j covered with an intricate braiding in
green anil silver, urd are bordered, like the
collar, with a hand of sable.
DEAD TUB SECOND TIME.
Strange Ftory of Suspended Anima
tion i-i Abntr L. Dunn.
BITKMNGTON, la., Nov. 29.—For tho sec
ond ami probably tbe last time, Abuor L.
Dunn of this city is dead aud buried. The
latter event occurred yesterday after a
delay of some time, by bis request. Several
years ago Mr. Dunn died. He was declared
dead by tho doctors. His body wus placed
in the coffin aud the burial rites were being
perf irmod, whoii to tbe utter b .rror of those
present manifestations of life were exhibited.
The coffin was quickly opened and Hr. Dunn
found to be alive.
The story of Ms exporiunco is a horrible
one. lie was vividly oo -i lout of all that
went on about him while bo lay apparently
ilea 1. He heard tho conversation of hi*
friends, and ouuld even see them through
bis half ch-ssd eyes, but be could not ep.-sk
or move. Ills condition of mind was terri
ble. Every faculty a< trained to m ke
some sign, but his body was like status
buddeuly be felt a breaking as of bonds,
when he found lie could move bis lbub*.
Then be made the warning uotae that at
tracted tbs attention of the ioi>urger. He
has lead mortal dresd of dean* Mace, and
i egged that his body he Md till death woe
absolutely proven.
