The Henry County weekly. (McDonough, GA.) 18??-1934, November 08, 1907, Image 3

The Henry County weekly., November 08, 1907, Image 3

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Newspaper Page Textr £ V* By WALTER BESANT 4 CHAPTER XIX. 10 . Continued. “Harriet has made Tip a fine collec tion of lies,” said .Tem, with a whole series of tight winks, and an attempt at a light and cheery manner. “When she's in a wax there's nowhere a finer stringer of big ones”—he glanced fur tively at his cousin, who stood medi tating, his hand on the bag containing the jewels. “Now I assure you I had no more notion of what she was going to make up this time than you your self. Ran them off fine and fluent, didn’t she? In half an hour's time she will by crying on my neck. Poor Har riet! it is her infirmity. Poor Harriet! And as for these lies, the less we dis* cuss them the better. They’re too ab surd to be mischievous.” ‘TIow came -the jewels in the bag?” ‘‘She put ’em there hersell’. I know nothing about them.” “How did she get the key of the safe?” “I gave it her. Why, when you were dead, I thought the jewels and every thing else were mine. I gave her the jewels for herself. She only put them into the bag to make up a story.” “Yet you promised—you promised sol emnly—that if anything remained over after the trust money was paid you would give it to Katie.” “That was when we thought there would be barely enough in that trust. Ygjj could not expect ” ‘‘Go on.” “Well. I gave her the key of the safe, where the jewels were lying. That is all I have to explain.” “Then there is the old silver. I sup pose you know that my uncle’s collec tion of silver is worth a great deal.” “I gave it all to my wife as well. 1 didn’t want old silver. Women like those things. I gave it all to her—not to sell, of course. She wouldn't have sold it. What does she do? Tack it up In this sideboard and pretend I put if there.” “Then there are the pictures. I no ticed a whole stack of them in tho hall.” “I suppose she put them there her self. By the Lord. Tom, it’s as neat a put up thing as I ever saw.” “As for the wine, now ” “Oh, as for the wine, I drank It regu larly till you came home. Why not?” “Jem, there's some law about in heritance. Were you entitled to all these things? I have other cousins, you know, by my mother’s side. They are in New Zealand, to be sure, but still ” “Well,”—.Tem looked embarrassed, and he winked, hard—“l can make a!I that clear to you. But it's a long story. I can’t explain the law of in heritance in five minutes. When we have a quiet quarter of an hour to gether ” “Ye-yes,” said Tom. “Your wife’s revelations have made me see things more clearly. My return must have disgusted you more than enough, and I ought to have understood it. I forgot, that altogether. Well, you had better, I think, let me take possession at once of my own house, if it is mine, or tem porary care of it, if it is not mine, with these valuable things. Please make out a statement of the whole estate with its liabilities by—say—by to-mor row. Can you do that? Shall I send In accountants to help you?” “I must say,” Jem began, “that your suspicions ” “I do not allow myself to have any suspicions. As for most of what your wife alleged, I shall never make any further inquiries. But until I hear from—from Kate's own lips—if we ever find her—the truth about her in terview witli you—whether she re vealed her destitute condition to you or not—l eau have no dealings with you.” “I suppose,” said Jem. “that I may make out my bill of costs?” “Certainly. Oh, Jem! if you had acted well by that poor girl—if you had behaved with common honesty anif truth—there is nothing in the house that you might not have taken! Noth ing of mine that you could not have had. Man, I would have made you re joice and thank God that I returned.” There is only ono more chapter of this history to be written, and that is a short chapter. Let me. therefore, ex plain that Jem’s after conduct with re gard to Uncle Joseph’s estate was per fectly fair and upright. He sent in, the next day, a statement of the estate, and the various securities, houses and lands, belonging to it. He also sent in his bill of costs, which was naturally heavy, not to say outrageous, and he •wrote a letter, couched in most digni fied language, stating that after what had passed he should be pleased to be relieved of his functions in administer ing the property without the least de lav. This done, and having received a re ply, and a check for the bill of costs, he sent the whole of the papers to his cousin’s new advisers, eashed the’ check, called a cab, and drove away. He never came back. The two old clerks went on dozing and meditating; the boy slumbered, and read penny novelettes, and played at astragals in the office below until Saturday, and then—there was no money, and no one to ask for It. They waited another week. The master canje no more, and then they understood that llieir en gagement had come to an end. The boy was the most grieved of the three, because to him the disaster meant that he would now have to find a place where he must work in earnest. Tho two old men, who had done their life’s work, also looked for other places, but failed to get an engagement elsewhere. One of them had saved money, and ho proceeded to buy himself an annuity, and is a most respectable old gentleman, with a strong opinion in politics. The other, who had saved none, went intd the Marylebone Workhouse, and is now one of those useful collegians wlio learn the rules by heart, and insist upon their being carried out to tho letter, and complain to the guardians continually. Tom met his cousin a few months afterward. He looked less like a seri ous solicitor than ever. Tom bore no malice, being now restored to happi ness. and shook hands with him in cousinly fashion. “And how are you doing?” he asked. “Getting on with your profession?” “No. I say, Tom, what that she devil said was all true. I meant to have stuck to all the money when you w’ere dead. You ought not to liavd come back. You were dead. You had your funeral, so to speak—what would happen if dead men kept on coming back and upsetting things? When you came back, I saw that I should get nothing unless I helped myself. But I did hope that you would find the girl, and that we should arrange everything friendly.” “I see,” said Tom. “Well—it was or dered otherwise, as they say. And how is your wife?” “She is singing at a Liverpool music hall. She went her way and I went mine. A fine woman, Tom—with a temper. I believe that Baronet fellow’, Surennery, as they call him, put her on to it.” “What is your way, Jem?” .Tem winked both eyes and laughed. “I am now a tipster, Tom. I send the name of the w’inner, you know— and the mugs send up their half-crow r ns by the dozen. Juggins, thank goodness, is everywhere. Oh, I’m doing pretty well. As for the law, I alw’ays hated it. l'ou’re looking well and hearty, Tom. Good-bye—good-bye!” * CHAPTER THE LAST. I.IFE AND LOVE. Everybody at the hospital continued io show the most extraordinary inter est and sympathy with Katie during her short convalescence. The senior physician spoke mysteriously of joy as a great assistance in cases where the patient had been brought iow by trou ble; she also said that freedom from anxiety would be found an invaluable medicine; and that rest from every kind of work with perhaps travel amid new scenes, would complete her cure. She said these ridiculous things just as if rest and ease and travel were attain able, and within the reach of the poor est girl in all London. Then the Sister, a most sober-minded and practical per son, free from all enthusiasms, agreed with the senior physician, and slid that she was always right, as her patient would find. Then the secretary used, to sit by her bedside and whisper that; after all, there was no cure so good as happiness. And so with everybody. The other patients were all in the same tale, and would tell her that she was a hapny girl, and no one envied her, because she deserved all. Why, even when visitors came to see other patients there used to be a great whis pering, and the visitors would look at her curiously. Kate mended fast—and one afternoon her friend, Miss Willoughby, told her that the time had now come when she could leave the hospital. “And now, my dear,” she said, “you are to have a surprise. Oh, what a! lot of things I have to tell you! I heard yesterday what the doctor—oh, she is a wise woman!—said about joy. Yes, joy is a beautiful medicine. Thank God, I know it in my own case. Now there is no luggage to pack up, is there?” “I am the only girl in the world,” said Katie—“the only girl, I believe, who has got no luggage, no posses sions. no money, no friends, and no relations.” “Yes: which will make all that foi lows the more delightful. You n:aj add, my dear, that you have got no Clothes.” “No clothes?” “Why—you could not possibly go to the House of Joy in such poor, shabby things as you had on when we brought you here.” “Katie, I am in mourning, you know ** “My dear*’—she kissed her—“nobody knows it better than I do. Sometimes, 1 however, we put off mourning—on joy ful occasions—say, for weddings. morrow. If you like, you may put it on again.” Her new clothes were fitting for a young lady, being, in fact, much finer than anything the poor girl had ever worn in her life before, hut Katie put them on without a w’ord. “Where have you brought me?” Xatie looked about the room. They ,'jad come in a cab; it w y as 5 o’clock; outside it was dark already; they were in a room beautifully furnished, wittf all sorts of pretty things In it; th f lamp was lighted, and on the table tea was standing in readiness. “My dear, you must not ask too many questions, because I have got such a lot to tell you. Oh, how shall I ever begin! First, you shall have a cup of tea—and so will I—nothing in the world like a cup of tea. Formerly ladies drank small beer. Think that! Is it sweet enough, dear? Oh, Katie—l am so happy to-night.” She stopped in her talk to kiss her. “This is my room —is it not a pretty room? And now I am going to give it up to my sister, be cause I am going to be married—you know that, don’t you? My lover, who was dead, has come back to life again, and nothing will please him—the fool ish boy!—but that i must marry him at once. Oh, if your lover couhl come back, too! And I shall never have such a pretty room as this again, I am sure: But I shall have him instead. He was in Egypt, you know, like your boy—: Tom—poor Tom Addison. My bojj knew Tom Addison very well. lie will talk to you about him if you like.” She stopped and kissed her again, and again the tears came into her eyes. “Well, it was all in the papers, and 1 dare say you saw it. There was an expedition made, an attack, and thd Egyptians ran away, and my boy was reported missing—just like yours. Yes, dear, we were sisters in misfortune— and we did not know it—that day when you fell fainting into my arms, and told me you were without friends and without relatives, and I was your cousin all the time.” “Are you really my cousin?” “That is one of the things I am go ing to explain to you, dear Katie. Oh! if Tom Addison had only come home with Harry McLauehlin!” “McLauchlin! That is the name of the officer who was missing at tho same time.” “Yes —he was only a prisoner, and ho escaped. If Tom had only escaped with him! Poor Katie! we lost our lovers together. Oh! if we could find them together.” She stopped and listened. Outsido there were voices. She ran out of the room, and Katie heard her saying, earnestly: “Not yet —oh! not yet—l implore you—not yet— wait till I call you.” Then she returned and shut the door carefully. “Oh, I have such a lot to tell you. First oi all, dear, you are my cousin. Do you see this portrait?” It was a miniature representing an old lady, sweet of face and beautiful. “That is your great aunt and mine, Katharine Regina Wil loughby. Y'our name is the same, so is mine.” “But my name is Capel.” “Nothing of the kind, my dear. Your father called himself Capei because he quarreled with his relations—and—and refused to speak to them any more, you know.” This was a kind way of put ting jt, and the male members of the family reversed this statement. “But his real name was Willoughby. Here is a portrait of him in uniform when lie was in the army—there it is.” She brought a water-color portrait showing a very gallant young hero in scarlet. ’Tis a color which sets off the fire and masterfulness of the hero in his youth. “Oh! it is my father,” cried Katie, “though I cannot remember him so young as this. But he kept his good looks to the last.” | “Yes—it is your father. It is all proved now without the least doubt, Katie.” She lowered her voice as one does when one is going to say a dis;q greeable thing. “We will not talk much about him. because he—he had his faults, lam afraid. But you should keep this likeness. He was Miss Wil loughby’s favorite nephew; she gave him quantities of money; she forgave him all extravagances; she even placed R large sum in the hands of Mr. Joseph Addison, her solicitor, so that he might enjoy an annuity of £3OO a year, which was paid him regularly.” “Oh, in Mr. Addison’s hands? Tom’s Uncle Joseph?” “Yes, after his death the principal was to be given to her niece—to you, my dear.” “To me?” “Yes, to you. That trust, the discov ery of which sent Tom to Egypt, was yours. Katie. And I am very much afraid that Mr. Rolfe, who seems to have been a person of no morals at all, Was actually going to cheat you out oi It. It is all yours, Katie; you are—not Mch, perhaps—but you have plenty. M.V dear, if Tom had only escaped with Harry!” “Oh; but how did you find out all this? Is it really true?” “You have lots of friends, Katie, quantities of friends. There are both friends and? relations waiting for you jTo think that I did not know, and took rou to the Co-Operative Work Girls! (But never mind. And now I am going to bring in some of your friends,” Slu, fang the bell, and the door was opened With a promptitude which proved that the man—it was a man—must havq been lurking outside in readiness. . "Katie,” said the other Katie, “tWs Is Harry McLauchlin—my* Harry—who was in captivity among the Arabs for Six months with your Tom. made his escape, you know. If Tom Could only have escaped with him!” The escaped prisoner, who showed no traces of his long captivity, bowed nmj took her hand, but said nothing and looked embarrassed. “It is like a dream to me.” said Katie. “I cannot understand. You were a prisoner with Tom—you were present when he —was killed?” “Harry will tell you all. if you please to ask him to-morrow; not to-day, dear. He will tell you how it fared with them in their long captivity. But per-; haps you will hear from another source.” “Miss Willoughby,” said Captain Mc-i Lauclilin, recovering from his con fusion. “we found out—Torn and I—in the talks which we had at night all about each other. We guessed that you could be none other than the daughter of Harry Willoughby.” “Did Tom send me no message when you escaped—none at all?” “None,” said the captain. “Captain McLauchlin, tell me”—die caught his hand—“oh! tell me, once for all, how he died.” “Not now, not now. Ask me, if you like, to-morrow.” “Did he suffer? Was lie murdered while he tried to escape with you?” “He Was not murdered, but he suf fered—well. he suffered about as much as I did. We bad a bad time of it, Miss Willoughby. He helped me to bear it.” “Ask him no more questions, dear,” said her cousin. “To-morrow, as many as you please. There Is another friend who wants to see you.” Then there appeared—none other than Dittmer Bock. At the sight of Katie he burst into unfeigned weeping and sobbing, and fell on his knees. “Ach, Himmel,” he cried. “It was my fault. I ought never to have left you alone. I was a Dmnm Kopf. I lost my way in the fog. And it ivas midnight when I got back to the Park, and you were gone—you were gone, Katelien, can you forgive mo? All your sufferings were my fault—mine. But they are all over now that ” He stopped and choked. She gave him her hand, which he kissed, and got up still penitent. “You did your best, Dittmer. Do not reproach yourself. Can I ever forget that you were the only friend we had in the world—Lily and I—before wc all lost each other. Where is Lily?” Dittmer stammered. “I—l—l—do not know,” he said. “I seek her still.” “We must find her, Dittmer. Do not let us lose sight of each other again. You must have so much to tell me after all these weeks.” “Ach! I must no more call you Katcben, but Fraulein Willoughby— and you will no more listen to me, be cause ” He stopped and looked confused. “But you will he happy. What matter if all the world were bankrupt, so that you are happy. It Is true that my salary, which was forty pounds a year, is now sixty pounds. I should have had thirty pounds a year to help you with, because I could live easily on thirty pounds a year.” He sighed as if he had lost a beautiful chance. “I must not grumble. Y'our happiness is worth more than thirty pounds a year. It is true also that I have nearly completed a project which would give, I am sure, another Gode froi to Hamburg, if I could be helped by your sympathy.” “Y’ou will always have that, Ditt mer.” “No; you can no longer listen to my plans. What are ambitions without a sympathetic friend?” “Why not, Dittmer? Did we not agree that I was always to be your sister? What has happened to destroy that agreement?” “You are rich; you have many friends; you will have also ” He stopped because the other Miss Wil loughby shook her finger. “Ya—l gom brehend. I say nichts. I search for my island in the Pacific Ocean, like Herr Godefroi.” “Herr Bock”—it was the other Kate —“yon can have no more time. Now go—all of you—because there is still one other friend ” “My dear,” she said, when they were alone, “does joy kill? Are yon strong enough to bear the greatest surprise of all? Everything has been restored to you. Your name, which your father concealed; your fortune, which a dis honest lawyer wished to rob; and—and —oh, Kate—we are happy together. Heaven gave you to me on the day when my love came back to life—l give you back to Tom-not killed, but es caped—and at home again and well— waiting for you—waiting for you, my dear ” One shall be taken and another left. Where Is the woman who was left? Alas! they have not yet found her, though Dittmer seeks her continually. Perhaps in the future, far or near, the aappy woman who was taken may he permitted to bring the solace of love that endureth beyond shame unto the hapless woman who was left. So mote it be! They were married from Harley House, so that the girls who have to «eek continually for work and have never any joy in their lives, or rest, or love, and never get enough of any thing, have now something sweet and pleasant to remember and to toll. THE END. -jj Money From Frog*. Several young men of Clyde have been engaged during the past week in catching and shipping frogs to the city market. The frogs are raked up from the bottom of the canal, where they lay In the mud in a torpid state. The business pays those engaged in it from $5 to $9 per day. From sixty to 180 pounds of frogs’ legs can be secured daily, which can be readily sold for fifteen cents a pound. One man in Clyde has boon out driv ing about the country the past two weeks catching frogs in the ponds and ditches, and has realized from $5 to $0 a day for his services nfter<fcay ing expenses.—Clyde Correspondence of Rochester Herald. A Fifteen Ton l’iece of Coral. ’ r he dmlgei Go ernor. in the old Pa cific Mail dock, did herself proud yes terday mcrnlng by landing a fifteen-ton piece of coral on dry land. The big scoop had been delivering ordinary loads, when the boom dropped and tho engine started to haul in a fresh load. Then the gear groaned and things com menced to make a big fuss, and more ; steam was given and everybody stood | by. Balanced ns neatly as an egg in a spoon came up a coral rock far too big to get in the scoop and Just able to cramp in under the gin block.—Hono lulu Commercial Advertiser. HEAVY VERDICT AGAINST RAMSEY. One-Time President of Wabash Railroad i 3 “Soaked” for $589,000. A verdict of $589,000 against Joseph Ramsey, Jr., former president of the Wabash railroad, in a suit brought by John S. Jones, a financier and coai land operator, was handed down Fri day in the New York state supreme court. Mr. Jones sued George J. Gould, Wm. E. Guy and Mr. Ramsey as individuals, to recover $460,000 and interest since 1902, which he alleged to be due him for securing for them 50,000 acres of coal lands in southern Ohio. Justice Goff held that neither Mr. Gould nor Mr. Guy were liable, and tho verdict was rendered only against Mr. Ramsey. ROMANISM IS SIMPLY PAGANISM Is Declaration of Methodist Bishop at Gath ering of His Colleagues. The biennial meeting of the board of bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church opened its work in Spokane with bishops present from all parts of the civilized world. The bishops were entertained at a banquet in the new First Church, at which liishop William Burt declared that “Romanism in Ro man Catholic countries is simply pa ganism and is not to be judged by conditions here. On the continent the work of our church meets with great difficulty because there it comes face to face with these beliefs.’’ R. O. JACKSON, Attorney-at-Law, McDonough, ga. Office over Star Store. E. M. SHITH, Attorney at Law, Me Doxough, Ga. Office ov'-r Star Store, south side square. All work carefully and promptly attended to. Am premared to negotiate loans on real estate. Terms easy. A“Bilious Attack.” Symptoms. Sour stomach, nasty taste in mouth, sick headache, sallow complex ion, the world your enemy. Cause. Constipation, inact ive liver, overflow of bile into the system. Relief. Treatment for two night 3 before retiring with RADIUS AND TONIC PELLETS One a night, don’t worry, sleep well and Nature’ll do the rest. Entire Treatment 2 5 Cts.