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EIGHT The Land of Broken Promises ■■■■= ■■ - -By DANE COOLIDGE A Stirring Story of the Mexican Revolution A «tory of border Mexico, vivid, Intense, such as has never before been written, Is this one of Ameri can adventurers Into the land of manana. Texan, mining engineer, Spanish senor and senorita, peon, Indian, crowd Its chapters with clear-cut word pictures of busi ness, adventure and love, against a somber background of wretched armies marching and counter marching across a land racked by revolution and without a savior. (Continued from Yesterday.) Ttut as Tils gaze swept the length of the vino-covered corredor It halted for a moment and a slow smile came over Tits fßce. In the green depths of a passion-flower vino he hud detected a quick, blrdliko motion; and then suddenly, like a transformation acene, he beheld a merry fare, framed and vi«' ; !K 'i 1 ' :'iil! it" l 'Hr i It Was a Merry Company, Indeed. Illuminated by soft, golden lochs, peer Inn out at him from among the blos soms. Except for that brief smile he made no firm that ho saw her, and when ho looked tip again the face had disappeared. Hon cipriano thawed (hem about hlB plant, where his men kept u continual stream of liquid lire running from tho copper worm, and gave pncli a raw drink; but though He I-nnoey gated admiringly at the house and praised the orange trooe that hung over the garden wall, Spanish hospi tality could go no further, and the vlalt ended In a series of udioaes and much* as graclasea. ‘Quick work!" commented Phil, as they rode toward the mine; “the old man has got over his grouch." "Urn.” mused Hud. with a quiet, brooding smile; and the next time he rode Into town he looked for tbe masked face among the flowers and emiled again. That was the wav Gra cia Aragon affected them all. He did not point out tho place to Phil, nor betray her by any sign. All he did wae to glance at her once and then ride on his way, but somehow his heart stood still when he met her eye*, and his days became filled with a pensive, brooding melancholy. "What tho matter. Hud?” rallied Phil, after he had jollied him for a week; “you're getting mighty quiet lately. Got another hunch—like that one yon had up at Agua NegraT" "Nope," grinned Bud; "but I'll tell Von one thing—ls old Aragon don’t •prtng something pretty soon I'm go ing to get uneasy. Ho’s too dog-goned good-natured about this." "Maybe he thinks we're stuck,“ sug gested De Lancey. "Well, he's awful happy about some thing,” said Bud. ”1 can see by the way he droops thst game eye of his— and smiles that way—that he knows ■we’re working for him. If we don’t get a title to this mine, every tsp of work we do on it Is all to the good for him. that's a cinch. 80 sit down tiow and think It out—where's the Joker T" "Well," mused Phil, “the gold Is hero somewhere. He knows we’re not tooled there. And he knows we’re right after It, the way we're driving this oat In. Our permit Is good—he hasn't tried to buffalo Mender—and It's a cinch he cant denounce the claim himself.” —- “Maybe he figures on letting us do all the work and pay all the denounce ment fees and then spring something big on old One-Eye,” propounded Bud. "Scare 'lm up or buy 1m off, and have him transfer the title to him. That's the way he worked Kruger," "Well say," urged Phil, "let's go ahead with our danouncament before he starts something. Besides, the warm weather Is coming on now, and If we don't gst a move on we're likely to get run out by tho ravoltcfbsJ’ ,r ßope,” Bald Bud; "1 don’t put this Into Mendez's hands until I know he’s our man —and If I ever do go ahead I'll keep him under my six-shooter until the last paper Is signed, believe mo. I know we're In bad somewhere, but hurrying up won't help none, “Now I tell you what we'll do—you j go to the mining agent and gel, copies of all our papere and send them up to that Gadsden lawyer. I'm going to go 1 down and board with Mendez and sea I If I can read his heart’ So they separated, and while Phil stayed In town to look over the rec ords Bud ate his beans and tortillaa with the Mendez family. They were a happy little family, comfortably Installed In the stone house that Mendez had built, and rap idly getting fit on three full meals a day: From his tent farther up* the canyon Bud could look down and watch the children at play and see the comely Indian wife as she cooked by the upon Are. Certainly no one could be more In nocent and contented thnn she was, and El Tuerto was all bows and pro testations of gratitude. And yet, you never can tell. « Bud had moved out of the new house to furnish quarter* for El Tuerto and had favored bun In every way; but this name consideration might easily lie misinterpreted, for the Mexicans uiojdow to understand kindness. 80. while on the one hand he had treated them generously, he had al ways kept, nis distance, lest they be tempted to presume. But now, with Phil In town for a few days, he took his meals with Maria, who was too awed to say a word, and made friends | with the dogs and the children. The way to the dog's heart, was onay, almout. direct, and he finally won the attention of little i’anoho and Josefa with a well-worn Sunday supplement | Thla gaudy Institution, with its Hplcy I stories and startling illustrations, had penetrated even to the wilds of Sonora, 1 and every Sunday as regularly as the iwper cane Bud sat down and had hli i laugh ova the funny page. I But to Pancho, who was six years j old and curioiiß, this sumo highly col i ored sheet was a mystery of mysteries, and when he saw the big Aiuerioan i laughing he crept up and looked at It wistfully. I "Mira,' said Bud. laying his finger ! upon the smirking visage of one of the comic characters, "look, and 1 will tell you the story-" And so, with laborious care, be translated the colored tun, while the I little Mcndezes squirmed with excite ment and leaped with joy. Even the simple coals of El Tuerto and Marla ! wer moved by the comicas, and Men dez became so Interested that he learned the words by heart, tho better to explain them to others. l)ut as for Mexican treachery. Bud could find none of It. In fact, finding them so simple-hearted and good-na tured. he became half ashamed of his early suspicions and wa!.ad for the return of Phil to ex pi' Jon Clprl ano'e con placency. But the next Sunday, as Bud lay reading In his tent, the m stery solved Itself. Crus Mendex came up from the house, hat In hand and an apologetlo sir lie on his face, and after the cus ‘.omary roundabout remarks be asked lie boss as a favor if be would lend h'm the ps;e of comic pictures. "seguro!" assented B id, rolltng over and fumbling for Ibe funny sheet; then, failing to And it Instantly, he In quired; "What do you want It forf” "Ah, to show to my hoy!” explained K 1 Tuerto, his one eye lighting up v >th pride. "Who— rancho T” "Ah, no. senor,” answered Mendes s mply, "my boy In La Fortuna, the cue yon have not seen." Bud stopped fumbling for the paper mid sat up suddenly. Hero was a new light on their faithful servitor, and one that might easily tske sway from his value os a dummy locator. "Oh!" he said, and then: "How many children have you. Crust" Cruz smiled deprecatlngly, as par ents will, and turned away. "By which woman?” he Inquired, and Bud became suddenly very calm, fear lug the worst. For If Crus was not legally married to Maria, he could not transfer the mining claim. “By all of them," he said quietly. “Five In all," returned Crux—“three by Marla, aa you know—two by my lint woman—and one other. Ido not count him.” "Well, you one-eyed old reprobated muttered Bud In hie throat, but he pasted It off and returned smiling to the charge. "Where doae your boy live now?" he asked with flattering solicitude, the better to make him talk, "and Is ha old enough to undentand the plo turoe?” "Ah, yea!" baamed Mendez, "he la twelve yeare old. He lives with his mother now—end my little daughter, too. Tbelr mamma la tbe woman of the mayordomo of the Benor Aragtfn— a bad man. very ugly—she Is not mar ried to him." "But with you—" suggested Bud, re dbjtkrs him with a mcfir stare. _ Author of “THE FIGHTING FOOL,” “HIDDEN WATERS," “THE TEXICAN," Etc. Illustrations by DON J. LAVIN (Copyright, 1911. bv Frank A. Munsey.) "Only by the Judge!” exclaimed Mendez virtuously. “It was a love match. and the priest did not come — bo we were married by the judge. Then this bad mayordomo stole her away from me—the pig—and I mar ried Maria Instead. Marla is a good woman and I married her before the priest—but I love my other children, too, even though they are not lawful.” "So you married your first wife be fore the Judge,” observed Bud cynical ly, "and this one before the priest. But how could you do that, unless you bad been divorced?” "Ah, senor,” protested Mendez, hold ing out his hands, “you do not under stand. It Is only the church that can really marry—the judge does It only for the money. Marla Is my true wife —and we have three nice ohildren— but ns I am going through La Fortuna 1 should like to show the picture paper to my boy.” Bud regarded him In meditative si lence, then he rose up and began a de termined search for the funny sheet. "All right,” he said, handing it over, "and here is a panoche of sugar for your little girl—the one in La Fortuna. It is nothing,” he added, as Mendez began his thanks. "But oh, you marrying Mexican,” he continued, relapsing into his mother tongue as El Tuerto disappeared; "you certainly have dished us right.” CHAPTER IX. Not the least of the causes which have brought Mexico to the brink of the abyss is the endless quarrel be tween church and state, which has al most destroyed the sanctity of mar riage and left, besides, a pitiful her itage of deserted women and father less children as Its toll. Many an honest laborer has peoned himself to pay the priest for bis mar riage. only to be told that it Is not legal In o eyes of the law; snd many another, married by the judge, has been gravely informed by the padre that the woman Is ouly his mistress, and the children born out of wedlock. So that now, to be sure that she is wedded, a woman must be married twice, and many a couple, on account of the prohibitive fees, are never mar ried at all. Cruz Mendez was no different from the men of his class, and he believed honestly that he was married to tbe comely Maria; but Hooker could have enlightened him on that point If he had cared to do It. Bud was playing a game, with the Eagle Tall mine for a stake; and, be ing experienced at poker, he stood pat nud studied his hand. Without doubt Mendex had lost his usefulness as a locator of the mine, since Maria was not his legal wife and could not sign tlie transfer papers as such. Accord ing to tho law of the land, the woman now living with Aragon's mayordomo was the "legitimate” wife of the con tract, and she alone could release title to the nitne once Mendez denounced the claim. But Mendez had not yet denounced the claim—though for a period of some thirty days yet he had the ex 'elusive privilege of doing so -and Bud did not Intend that he snould. Meanwhile they must walk softly, leaving Aragon to atill hug the delu sion that he would soon, through his mayordomo, have them in his power— and when the full sixty days of Cruz Mendez's mining permit had expired they could locate the mine again. But how—and through whom? That was the question that Bud was study ing upon when Phil rode up the trail, and In his abstraction bo barely re turned Ills gay greeting. “Well, cheer up, old top!” cried De- Lancey, throwing his bridle-reins to ' the ground and striding up to the tent. “What ho, let down the portcullis, me I lord seneschal! And cease your vain I repining. Algernon—our papers are all j O. K. and the lawyer says to go ahead. I But that Isn't half the news! Say, we had a dance up at the hotel last night and 1 met —" "Yes—sure you did," broke In Bud; ! "but listen to this!” And he told him of El Tuerto* matrimonial entangle ments. “Why, the crooked devil!" exclaimed I>e Lancey, leaping up at the finish, j "Oyes! Mendez!” "Don't say a word." warned Bud, springing to the tent door to intercept hint, »or you’ll put ua out of busltiesst j It Is nothing," he continued In Spanish as Mendez came out of his house, "but put Don Felipe's horse In tbe corral ! when he Is cool." “ V BI, senor—with great pleasure!” smirked Mendea, running to get the I horse, and after he had departed Bud ! turned back and shook his head. “We can't afford to quarrel with Mr. Mendez." he aaid; "because If Aragon ever gets hold of him we'r* ditched. Jest let everything run on like we'd overlooked something until the sixty days arc up—then, If we get away with It, well locate the min* our* selves." "Yes; but how?" "Well, they * two ways," returned Bud; "either hunt up another Mexican cltlsen or turn Mexican ourselves." "Turn Mexican U’ shrUbd I'M!, and THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA. GA. then he broke down and laughed. "Well, you're a great one, Bud,” he chortled; "you sure are!” "I come down here to get this mine,” said Bud laconically. ’“Yes, but you're a Texan—or waß one!” "That makes no difference,” an swered Bud stoutly. "The hot weather Is coming on—revolution is likely to begin any time—and there ain't a sin gle Mexican we can trust. Jest one more break now and we lose out —now how about It?” "Who’s going to turn Mexican?” questioned De Lancey, “you or me?” “Well —I will, then!” "No, you won't, either!” cried Phil, forgetting his dhnny shrewdness. ‘Til do it myself! I’m half Mexican al ready, I’ve been eating chili so long!” "Now here," began Bud, "listen to me. I’ve been thinking this over all day and you jest heard about it. The man that turns Mexican is likely to get mixed up with the authorities and have to skip the country, but the other feller Is in the other way—he’s got to stay with the works till hell freezes over. "Now you’re an engineer and you know how to open up a mine—l don’t. So, If you say so. I’ll take out the pa pers and you hold the mine—or if you want to you can turn Mex.” “Well,” said De Lancey, his voice suddenly becoming soft and pensive, “I might as well tell you, Bud, that Pm thinking of settling In this coun try, anyway. Of course, I don’t look at Aragon the way you do —I think you are prejudiced and misjudge him —but ever since I’ve known Gracia rve—” “Gracia 1” repeated Bud; and then, stirred by some great and unreasoning anger, he rose up and threw down his hat pettishly. “I’d think, Phil,” he muttered, "you’d be satisfied with all the other girls In the world without—” "Now here!” shouted Phil, rising as nnreasoningly to his feet, "don’t you say auother word against that girl, or I’ll—" "Shut your mouth, you little shrimp!" bellowed Bud, wheeling upon him menacingly. “You seem to think you’re the only man In the world that—” “Oh. slush. Bud!” cried Phil In dis gust, “you don’t mean to tell me you're In love with Gracia too!” “Who —me?” demanded Hooker, his face suddenly becoming fixed and masklike; and then he laughed hoarse ly In derision and Bank down on the bed. Certainly, of the two of them, he was the more surprised at his sudden outbreak of passion; and yet when the words were spoken he was quick to know that they were true. Undoubtedly, In his own way, he was in love—but he would never ad mit It, that he knew, too. So he sank down on the blankets and swore harsh ly, while De Lancey stared at him in unfeigned surprise. "Well, then,” he went on, taking Bud’s answer for granted, “what’re you making such a row about? Can’t I go to a dance, with a girl without you jumping down my throat?" “W’y, sure you can!” rumbled Bud, now hot with a new Indignation; "but after getting me to go Into this deal against my will and swearing me to some damn-fool pledge, the first thing you do Is to make friends with Aragon and then make love to his daughter. Is that your idea of helping things along? D’ye think that’s the way a pardner ought to act? No, I tell you, It Is not!” “Aw, Bud,” predated De Lancey plaintively, "what’s the matter with you ? Be reasonable, old man; I never meant to hurt your feelings!” "Hurt ray feelings!" echoed Hooker scornfully. "Huh, what are we down here for, anyway—a Sunday school picnic? My feelings are nothing, and they can wait; but we’re sitting on a mine that’s worth a million dollars mebbe—and It ain’t ours, either —and when you throw in with old Aragon and go to making love to his daugh ter you know you're not doing right! That's all there Is to It —you're doing me and Kruger dirt!” "Well, Bud,' said De Lancey with mock gravity, *lf that's the way you feel about It I won't do It any more!” 'A wish you wouldn’t,” breathed Bud, raising his head his bands; "It sure wears me out, Phil, worrying about It.” "Well, then. 1 won’t do it," protested Phil sincerely. “So that’s settled —now who's going to turn Mexican citizen?” "Suit yourself," said Bud listlessly. *TU match you for It!” proposed De Lancey, diving into his pocket for money. "Don’t need tq," responded Bud; "you can do what you please." “No; I'll match you!” persisted Phil. “That was the agreement—whenever it was an even break we'd let the money talk. Here's your quarter—and If I match yon I'll become the Mexi can citizen. AH set? Let 'er go!” He flipped the coin Into the air and caught It In his hand. (To Be Cjatinued Tomorrow.) USE HERALD WANT ADS The Love of His Youth “What is Your Name?” He Asked Huskily. And Scarcely Above a Whisper Came the Answer, “Ursula Grant.” He Drew Her to Him With a Startled Cry, and His Arm Went Around Her. “Ursula,” He Cried* “You’ve Listened to My Story; Tell Me Do You Forgive Me?” "Puffing Billy” lay by the side of the twisted rails a mass of wreckage, and what had one short hour ago been a trobbing giant of the iron .track was now fit for no fate higher than that of the scrap-heap. Over-turned carriag es with smashed windows and buck led bodies kept "Puffing Billy” com pany in the scene of desolation, and station officials, railway servants of every degree, and a small crowd of anxious townspeopde rushed here and there to render aid to the wounded. Iron nerves were needed for the sad dening task, and many a strong man turned aside sick with horror as ghastly sights were revealed beneath the debris. Someone would be called to book for the horrible loss of life—-someone had blundered when the 5:15 express had thundered down tile way with "line clear," only to tear into tne market train which should have passed the points a good fifteen minutes earlier. Dr. Watson, the sure-handed, clev er-headed surgeon of Wonford, started when a light touch fell on his arm. He was kneeling at the moment over an other of the many victims, and his heart had tightened at his own help lessness. He looked up to find a woman's tear-filled eye looking down on the mangled body which he had just pro nounced beyond his aid. "Ah! It's Nurse Ursula!” He got up then and passed his hand over his forehead. He’s beyond me, poor fellow,” he murmureJ. "Oh, why does God allow such horrors?” Nurse Ursula . touched his arm again. “Come,” she said. “I think you can save one. We have just rescued him. He was pinned beneath a first class compartment. He’s had a hor rible blow, but he's alive, and there ap pears to be no bones broken.” At once, the doctor, dazed by the horrors he had seen, became the alert surgeon. Following the neat little fig ure in nurses’s bonnet and cloak, he met the stretcher borne by two por ters. on which the battered body lay. “To the waiting-room, Brown,” he ordered, and his professional eye took in details as they proceeded slowly to carry out his instruction. Nurse Ursula walked with them, and as they went, the doctor told her his conclusions. “He had a mash on the head, poor fellow. "This is going to be a critical case, nurse. God! How I wish we’d a hospital. That waiting-room may be his death chamber; and who can say how long he’ll have to stay there. Doesn't look to me as if he’ll De moved -even if I save him—for many long weeks.” Ursula came round the stretcher. “Doctor,” he said quickly. "Wouldn’t my cottage be better? Han't they take him there? We’ll never save him if he must lie in a waiting-room that vi brates with every sound.” "Do you mean it?” Ursula nodded. Bo new orders were given, and soon the patient—now babbling incoherent ly—was lying in the front parlor of an old-fashioned house, five minutes’ walk from the scene of the disaster Dr. Watson's steady hands overhauled him, and in a few curt sentences he had stated his hurt. “A nasty hit, nurse; a ticky job! One fraction more and the splinter would have pierced the brain. Are you ready? Nerves like steel, eh?” Ursula's eyes were bright. She had watched Dr. Watson pull many a man back from the borderland before today, and she had unbounded faith in his skill. She scarcely breathed as the deft fingers Used the instruments she handed to him. There were «iny beads of moisture round the doctor's nose, but the hands were steady, and Nurse Ursula knew from the (mini set of the man’s lips that he meant to save one at least, of the victims of carelessness. When, later, the shining knives had gone back into their cases, and the pa tient lay stretched out on the Impro vised bed, there w'as time for conjec ture. FirHt-rlass. did you say he was?” asked Dr. Watson. “Wonder who he is. Somebody waiting for him some where. no doubt. Perhaps his clothes wil give us a clue.” A few seconds later the doctor whistled softly, “llu.lley Drummond, by Jove!” And in his astonishment he never noticed that little Nurse Ursula had gone strangely white. The look he caught in her eyes he took for sur VERY SUCCESSFUL “SMALL DANCE” ws—— nH & jUI I * * I It ._y , I w rwni - * ft Mrs. Francis H, Leggett. London.— Mrs. Francis H. Leggett of New York, has just given a very successful party for her prettv voting daughter, Frances. It was intended to be a small affair, but the hostess has so many friends her she found It It proved to be tne smartest "jmnll dance” of the season. Although the house Is not large, It is charming. The china is notable and the tables full of valuable old gold, and silver orna ments form the decorations o? the drawing room. lighted on this ucm ion w Ith real wax ... , prise at his announcement. For th'e name of Dudley Drummond was known even in Wonford. It was a name with which men juggled when big things were on the tapis. Dudley Drummond has caused mighty fluc tuations In the money market during the last ten of his forty years; he had crushed, many a struggling company like an egg-shell in his hand; through him men had risen to dizzy heights of fortune, or sunk to a suicide's grave; his name had made hearts quake and eyes gleam. And Dudley Drummond lay helpless now in Nurse Ursula's lit’ tie parlor, and the country surgeon looked upon his bandaged head wifb pardonable pride. "There's no telling how long you may have to keep him, nurse,” he murmured. But I guess if he comes round all right he'll thank us—-eh? I’ll send Paterson down to help with the nursing—you know she’s all right. We needn’t trouble about London nurses if you and Paterson will under take the job. ‘‘l’ll sit up tonight,” said Nurse Ursula softly, "and tomorrow we’ll see.” “I'll be round first thing,” said the doctor. “And now I’ll be going back to tile station. There may be some thing to do; but Savage was pretty despondent. I’ve never seen such a hopeless, horrible slaughter in my life. But thank God, we’ve saved one.” Left alone, the woman crossed quickly to the bandaged figure, and stood looking down at her patient. “So you’ve come back to me at last, Dudley,” she whispered very low, then bent her head as the man’s Ups moved. “Goldstein's after them! I’ll smash him! Run them up spread the report, Jackson no! the Kim berley lot a clear two thousand. Hold on to Wallygally shares ” The voice died away, and the woman knelt down, watching the face of the man who, in his delirium, was direct ing the marts of mammon. Presently he began again, and this time his ravings were of other things. "It's empty—empty—there’s nothing in it lonely, what’s this? Oh, go away! You beautiful devil—you—” There was a gurgle in his throat, and his face contracted; then with a shriek he screamed: “Ursula! Ursula!” The watching woman held the two hands that feebly beat the bedclothes. Her touch calmed him, and soon his face ceased working, and the weary brain was at peace. But as the night went on the quiet of the cottage was often broken by the man’s babblings, and when the morning dawned Nurse Ursula’s eyes held knowledge in their depths, and the knowledge made a glow to steal rot 1 her kindly heart. "Been talking'.' 1 asked Dr. Watson. “He’s rambled a lot.” she answered; "sometimes it was business and some times about people.” Paterson came later, and Ursula took a much-needed sleep. So the days passed, and the night watch saw the grey-eyed soft-voiced woman ten derly holding the hands of the rest less patient, and calming him by her touch. The day on which consciousness dawned brought worry to the doctor. The sun was shining when Dudley Drummond spoke for the first time with his natural voice. "Who’s there?” was his first query. The doctor and Ursula were talking quietly by the doorway, and both turned towards the bed. The man was raising himself and staring straight before him. Dr. Wat son went up to him, and in quiet tones told him to lie still and not disturb the bandages. "You’ve been ill —very ill—my dear Mr. Drummond. But you're through the wood now. We're going to pull you round.” The man grunted. "Switch on the light, then. I hate this beastly blackness." Both doctor and nurse started. Each Instinctively sought the other’s eyes, and Ursula's formed a mute query. There was silence for a full min ute, broken at last by the patient’s querulous; "why can't you give me some light!” Dr. Watson pulled himself together. A moment he hesitated. The task be fore him was no pleasant one. “Men do not light lamps in the daylight,” was what he remarked. Dudley Drummond looked puzzled ‘‘What do you mean? Who are you? Turn on the switch. I say, or I'll get out and find it myself!” > Then the doctor sat down and calm ly held the patient’s hand. Slowly he began the story of the accident, and gradually brought the tale to the day and the time. “It is now ten o’clock in the morning," he finished, and left the truth to sink in. The man hold on to his hand with a grip of steel. “Tell me the truth, ha gasped. “Am I—am I blind? Oh, this horrible darkness!” In a few minutes he had roused him self. Fiercely he demanded that spe cialists should be sent for—that money should not be spared—that everything must be done to endeavor to bring back that which was lost. And Dr. Watson, to whom the ugly truth was as great a shock as to the patient him self, did his best. Many dollars were earned in the hours that followed, but to no purpose. Sir .Edward Strange spoke learnedly, and his confreres agreed, but little hope was held out for Dudley Drummond. It remained for Nurse Ursula to break the news. She, it was, who soothed him, but the voice which she used to her patient was not the voice that the villagers knew and loved so well. So the days passed. Under the gen tle ministrations of Wonford's "angel lady,” Dudley Drummond slowly re gained health and strength and reach ed resignation. On a day that saw him sitting near Ursula's window In ths spring sunshine, she sewing busily by his side, he thanked her for the first time for her care. It had been hard for Dudley Drummond to think of any thing but his own trouble until now. "Do you know, nurse,” h« said, "sometimes your voice reminds m* strangely of someone I used to know. I'd like to tell you about her. She was my first love and—if she could but know It —my only one. I loved her as a young man does love in the early days of his manhood. We were very happy, and Ursula had promised to marry me when the daffodils bloomed. They were her favorite flower, and she wanted our wedding to be hii Easter wedding. You know how women plan things. The church was to be decorated with daffo dils. Ursula was an artistic soul, and she'd get her own way in anything, too Bab! it makes me sick even now to think that I was such a fool as to lose her. tloil only knows what she might have made of me If the uthet WEDNESDAY. JUNE 17. woman hadn’t come on the scene. There generally is another woman, nurse. The eternal triangle, you know —either two men and a woman, or two women and one man. All the matrimonial muddles, lovers’ quarrels, and the miseries allotted to us poor mortals, seem based upon that trian gular beginning. Three's always a dangerous number, nurse, and it’s time we recognized it.” He waited for a moment, then went on: “That last Christmas —’ninety- seven, I believe it was —was when the triangle affected me. The other wo man came into our lives then. She was a witch—a beautiful devil in the guise of woman —and she set herself to ruin my life. I can see her green eyes even now, and the (laming lights in her hair. Aye, nurse, but the devil’s too much for a man when Jie comes in the form of a woman. Isabella Moor roused the worst in me. She traded on the brute nature that lies in every man, and—under her spell—l forgot for a while, the girl who had promised to be my wife. We went away. When the madness turned to loathing—as it was bound to do in time —I thought again of Ursula. But disgust for my self held me back, and I threw my self into the business of money-mak ing No other woman has entered my life —I kept myself clean after that — but the money-madness came upon me, and I’ve been a slave to the golden wheel for the last fourteen years.” Nurse Ursula was breathing heavily, and her sewing lay unheeded in her lap. "What do you think of my tale, nurse?” the man went on. “A lot of good will my millions do me, eh? You good women take little truck of money, I know. But I wish —I wash I could somehow let Ursula have some of mine. I guess she’s married now. She was a pretty girl. She’ll be thir ty-five and a bonny woman, no doubt, with smaller Ursulas.” His face twitched, and the woman was tempted to soothe him in her gen tle way. But she could not trust her self. "Ursula as a mother!” the man was saying, softly. “Some man has gath ered the jewel I threw away in my madness.” A silence followed, broken at last by the man. “Talk to me, nurse, send these maddening thoughts away. It’ll be awful now." There’s nothing to do to drown remorse—nothing but this horrible emptiness and blackness.” So Ursula began to soothe him. "Nurse!” broke in the man. “It puz zles me. Your voice—your voice is like Ursula’s. Who are you?” He was sitting forward, and his groping hand touched hers and grap ped it. “What is your name?” he asked huskily. , And scarcely above a whisper cams the answer. "Ursula Grant.” He drew her to him. with a strangled cry, and his arm went round her. "Ursula! Ursula!” he cried. “You’ve listened to my story, and your voice is kind. Tell me, quickly, is it that you forgive me?” Ursula was but thirty five, and at thirty-five a woman may be sentimen tal. She put her disengaged arm round his neck, and her voice was very tremulous as she whispered: “For giveness thrives in Love’s Garden, dear, and my love has been waiting a long time.” Even a blind man may find a'■wo man’s lips, so Dudley Drummond found Ursula's. “That accident was not „ the catas trophe it seemed as far as I was con cerned,” said Dudley later. “I've heard that love is blind, little woman, but l never thought I'd find love though blindness.” AND THEY WERE BROTHERS. (Chicago Inter-Ocean.) Clifford Barnes, of the Sunday Even ing Club, was leaving his affice in the Otis building when he encountered in the hallway two little pickaninnies, evidently one of the sub-janitor's chil dren. “What’s your name?” he demanded of the oldest of them. “My name,” replied the little fellow, “is Hubert Gladstone St. Ignatius Brown.” "And your brother’s name?” asked Barnes. "His narfie am jes Pieface.” A tourist once hapened to meet the usual “oldest inhabitant" of a village. In the course of conversation he asked the ancient how old he was: “I be Jus a hundred,” was the reply. ‘ ‘Well. I doubt if you'll see another hundred years,” said the tourist, trying to make conversation. “I don’t know so much about that, master,” was the hopeful response. "I be stronger now that when I started on my first hundred.”—Exchange. "Well,” mused 6-year-old Harry, as he was being buttoned into a clean white suit, "this has been an exciting week, hasn’t it, mother? Monday we went to the Zoo, Wednesday I lost a tooth, Thursday was Lily’s birthday party, Friday I was sick, yesterday I had my hair cut; and now here I'm rushing off to Sunday school!”—Lip pincott’s. GET UNIQUE GIFT DUCHESS OF PORTLAND. London. —The Duke and Duchess ot Portland for their silver weddlns; (tot a unique Klft of a silver model of tits enttine which the fuorth Duke N.iigiu » from Stevenson In 111" and placed on the railway line which he constructed between Kilmarnock and Troon Her- , her It was tlm first h ornotlve « . r j seen in S utlund. /