Rhyl Journal

WORDS OF WISDOM. In life, as in chess, forethought wins. -BUXTON. In idleness there is perpetual despair. -CAZZLV W. The only way to have a friend is to be one.- EMEESON. They never pardon who commit the wrong.- DRYDEN. Fortune does not change men; it only unmasks them. It is a great evil, as well as a misfortune, to be unable to utter a prompt and decided "no." Every spirit makes its house, and we can give a shrewd guess from the house to the inhabitant. Happiness consists in being perfectly satisfied with what we have got and with what we haven't got.— PASCAL. Nothing is so good for an ignorant man as silence; and if he was sensible of this he would not be ignorant. SAADI. Money dislionestly acquired is never worth its cost. while a good conscience never costs as much as it is worth. Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey towards it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. To do easily what is difficult, for others is the mark of talent. To do what is impossible for talent is the mark of genius. He who is false lo present, duty Vireaks a thread in the loom, and will find the Haw when he may have forgotten its came. Nothing is great but, the inexhaustible wealth of Nature. She shews us only four faces; but she is millions of fathoms deep. Indolence must be shunned, or we must be con- tent to yield up whatever we have acquired by the nobler exertions of our lives. He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness here- after, is like him that sovveth cockle and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. Old men that are gracious are best able to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the elrptincss cf things. The man or woman whose part is taken, and who does not wait for society in anything, has a power which society cannot choose but feel. Hope nothing from "luck," and the probabilities are that you will be so forewarned and forearmed that all shallow observers will call you lucky. There scarce can be named one quality that is amiable in a woman which is not becoming in a man, not excepting even modesty and gentleness of nature. Money and time are the heaviest burdens of life, and the unhappiest of all mortals are thorc who have more of either than they know how to use.— JOHNSON. We love and believe only partially till we know thoroughly. Grant that longer acquaintance reveals weakness: it also reveals strength and awakens sympathy. Now there b? many that pretend to be the King's labourers and that say tdioy are for mending the King's highway, and that bring diit and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. There are men who cannot be treated kindly by women, for instead of ascribing such courtesy to natural sweetness and amiability of disposition they set it down to admiration of their own miser- able selves. There are three wicks to the lamp of a man's life-brain, blood, and breath. Press the brain a little, its light goes out, fol!owed by both the others. Stop the heart a minute, and out go all three of the wicks. Choke the air out of the lungs, and presently the fluid ceases to supply the other centres of flame, and all is soon stagnation, cold, and darkness.

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-1 r (Copyright.) ? I S, G R-A C E. BY MRS. C. N. WILLIAMSON, Author of "The Barn Stormcr?," "The Woman in Grey," "Fortune's Sport," "The House by the Lock," "A Man From the Dark," "Lady Mary of the Dark House," Her Royal Hi ghness," &c. r SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS: Lord Wareham bad been brought home from the hunting field with his neck broken, fnd young Lady Ware- ham—married less than a Year-ii;ti met the doleful procession as it entered 'he house. The consequence was that she also laj St peril of her life, while another life. still more precious to the family fortune and future, was trembling in the balance. The verdict of the doctor was t ti;it there was little hope for either mother or child. Should the doctor's gloomy prediction be fulfilled the man whom Lady Mary Blandon—the spinster sister of the Duko of Leicester—despised above all other men. would soon come into the title and estates. She and Mr. Savernake, who acted as a sort of confidential cl rk to the Duke, concoct a scheme to frustrate this. A certain document which Savernake extracted from the pockets of J,ord Wareham, revealed that a ■woman, who claims to be his wife, has come to live in the neighbourhood to ascertain whether the reports of his second maniage are true, and acquainting him of the birth of t,%vins-t%io bov-. Whilst, this story is discredited by Savernake and Lady Mary, they conspire together to etTect out of it a way out of the difficulty which lies before them. This is nothing less than the exchange of the young Lord Wareham the moment he should die for one of the infants of this strange woman. This is accom- plished by Savernake, the woman consenting with various stipulat.iors. To the amazement of all, and e=pcci:illv of ti e doctor, whom Larfv Mary ingeniously got out of the way, I ttle Lord Wareham got better in a remarka! ly short time. We are next introduced to Randal Palgrave, at the coming of ago of the Duke, when a urand ball is given at Lurlworth Towers. Hi mind is full of bitter though's as he paces the picture gallery, and inwardly comments upon how near he had come to tl.e dukedom. Maurice, the Duke, becomes acquainted at college wi'h young blandon, and Randal has a good reason for encouraging the friendship. blandon belonged to a rapid, card-; laying, hard-drinking set of young men, most of them much older than he, and through his and his fatlier's influence the Duke had been drawn into it as well. With such a feeble constitu- tion as Leicester's, no way of Lfe could have been more injurious, and upon this fact Randal Falgrave bad calculated. CHAPTER III. During the past two years the Duke's constitu- tion had been steadily undermined. A little more dissipation, a sudden severe fold, a lingering ill- ness or two, and piiff the life that stood between liiiii and tile title woiild go otit. 13,it--if tlieyoiing man married before this eon. ullmation devoutly to be wished could be brought about, all the efforts of the last ten years would have been in vain. History would repeat itself. There would be an heir, and whether the Duke lived or died, Randal Palgrave s fate would be the same. Certain events had occurred during the five or six days passed by him and his son Blandon at Lnrlworth Towers, which I a I brought this danger very vividly before his mind and as he marched alonsr, with a Napoleonic downward poise of the head (under the crowding ranks of pictured ancestors) his mind was concentrated upon his fears. "What's the matter, governor?" suddenly inquired a voice at his side, and he glanced up to see his son Blnndon-a youthful replica of himself, "You look as doleful -Is just spent your last farthing—upon somebody else," went on the young man, chuckling at his own pleasantry. "Why aren't you dancing?" interrogated Palgrave, ignoring the question that had been asked hini. "Can't find my partner. She's given me the slip, had luck to her, though she promised me the dance early in the evening." "Who was it? Palgrave queried, with an interest graver than so trilling a matter as a for. gotten valse seemed to warrant. "011. the 1 Princess,' of course. Am I not always yours obediently, governor? pretty well. I suppose"—gloomily— II she's with Maurice?" 11 "I suppose so. Yes. by Jo^e!—there they go now." The eyes of fat her and son followed a couple who passed the door separating the picture gallery from the white drawing-room. They saw a tall young man, who would have had a remarkably good figure, had he not stooped, with a certain air of la ssitude, which cave him the effect of being hollow-chested. His face, too, would have been more than usually good to look upon, had it not been for its fretful expression and the unhealthful pallor of the complexion. The dark young bead was intellectually shaped, and finely set on a white pillar of throat. The features were of the Greek cast, and were almost perfection in shape and modelling. The hazel eyes were well opened and intelligent, but there was an indescribable look of indecision and weakness of character in their way of meeting any other gaze they might be called upon to encounter. He wr.s so tall that the girl on his arm, herself of no mean height for a woman, could scarcely lift her face above his shoulder. She was smiling up into his eyes, as the two passed the door of the picture gallery, walking slowly, evidently absorbed in one another. There was something in her face, her manner of carrying her small head, and her way of walking, which silently explained the nickname of The which had been hers since childhood. Sha was young—not more than eighteen or nineteen—and slender and lithe as a willow-wand yet there was a peculiar atmosphere of nnapproachableness, of dignity—almost majestic about her. To-night she- was all in white, as befitted a girl in her first. season, and the wax candles in the chandeliers- showered down light upon her ash-blonde hair, turning it to a (Town of living gold. Her profile- was particularly striking and delicate, her mouth. exquisite, despite the haughty curve of the upper lip; her eyes. Irish blue (or grey on a day when; there was no sunlight ), and the dusky curve of her long lashes had a strange bewitchment for th hearts of men—even those who did not dare to, love her. "Go after her, you fool." ejaculated Palgrave,. as lie took in the magic liftiirg of those lashes, and' the Duke of Leicester's downward glance. "Tell her it's your valse, and claim her for it. Take her- away from him. can't you ? Don't you see from' the very set of his shoulders that he's made up his: mind—what there is of it-t(w I)rol)"se to her ? "Well, if he has," retorted Blandon, sulkily;. "I don't see that I can do anything to stop it." "You can do two things," Palgrave harshly- replied. "You can keep him from coming near her tintil-tintil things arrange themselves more satis- factorily, and you can propose to her yourself." Blandon laughed, but not mirthfully, icii good that would do lip ejaculated. "You underrate yourself," ,;aid his- father. "You are as good looking as Maurice, and' vou am twice as clever. A girl of sense it;,Ast infinitely prefer you to your cousin, and Larly. Anntv O'Neill is pre-eminently a girl of sense." "She has sense enough to. prefer a Duke t(-),m commoner—a rich man to J*. pour one," sneer-edl Blandon. He was thoroughly aroused now, tlia, more so that his attentions to the young ladjs im question had not been.en.tire!ypron]otedby::€al<ff obey his father. "[ think you'do her an in jus'ice tlieiv," Palgrave. hastily. I believe Anne O'.Veill. t<° more disinterested than most girls of ^er- position; and lack of money. I have though, sometimes,, that you still had a chance with h;" Don't be all: idiot, and let it slip from you fi»«ver." Without another word, Bland<.«n Palgravo left liiap father and walked into the white drawing-room).. Hurrying to the opposite AJr; he looked in upon, the dancers, but the D-,ilt- and Lady Anne O'Neilll were not f h'!re. The rooms >v.«jre, arranged, in suites, at old- fashioned LticlNvortli Towers, opening one info* another, in an apparently endless vista, but on the- other side of the great hall, with its famous morbid staircase, lay the "Duchess's boudoir" as it had! once been called (for many years now, Datly: Mary's), and beyond it, a palm-house and'; m conservatory. A distant flutter of a white dress, %gaiiist., th& dark oak of a half-open door, gave Brandon a hint? that the couple had taken the latter direction, and. he strode in pursuit. lie had little hope of being ablb to, make good his claim to Anne as his partner for the dance, which was already nearly over, and he well knew' that to Leicester at all events, his presence would! be far from welcome. Still, partially iinpelled by his father's urgent words, partly by his owtti inclinations, he continued to follow. He came close enough at last, to make sure that' !?e had not been mistaken in the identity of the' pair, but before he could catch up with them, they had disapppeared into the palm house. As they did so, the last note of the valse for which Lady Anne O'Neill had been engaged to him, sobbef with dying sweetness upon the air, and he had 11( longer the shadow of an excuse for overtaking lieit save to overwhelm her with reproaches. ° He hesitated for an instant on the threshold of the conservatory, and then with a stealthy cautious- ness which would have done credit to his only living parent, entered the dim and softly scented: room. He had given up the idea of 'dairnin Anne as his recreant partner, but it occurred to Join that he might as well assure himself whether the purpose which had brought the couple to this. retired spot, was as particular as he and his father bad fancied it to be. The Duke and his companion were no longer visible but then, the conservatory at Lurlwortk Towers could boast of more resources as a place of concealment than most conservatories. Though wintry weather reigned outside, it was here like a dream of the tropics. There was first the palm house, and beyond, the conservatory proper, with orange trees, and trellised roses, and what appeared to the amateurish eye like a wilderness of flowers. Only the head gardener knew, perhaps, how unlike a wilderness it really was. Noiselessly Blandon Palgrave walked through the palm-house. Beyond, lie could hear a low murmur of voices, sounding above the patter of the fountain. In one corner, waved a huge pyramid of South African ferns, and behind that, lie knew, was a seat, just large enough to hold two persons. He had seen it on the first day of his arrival for this visit, during a tour of inspection, which he made, and had thought, at the time, what an ideal retreat it would form for lovers. He had, indeed, even contemplated enticing "The Princess thither himself. Now he had been forestalled in this intention, and by the soft light which filtered through globes of rosy glass, he could see the billowing foam of a white gown, which gleamed behind a bank of ferns and flowers. If he could reach the spot, without being heard, it would be possible for him to ensconce himself in such a position that, even should the hidden pair move away, or others enter the conservatory, he might safely remain concealed unlest actual and methodical search unearthed him. He had a rather exciting moment while crossing the floor, but presently, listening wi h an accelerated beating of the heart, he knew that lie had accomplished his object in safety. Neither the Duke nor Lady Anne was aware of an eavesdropper, though lie stood so near (between the banks of ferns and the glass wall of the con- servatory) that he could hear even the lightest whisper. Anne O'Neill had a wondrously sweet voice. There were tones in it like the vibrating notes of the violin, and again during conversations with her, Blandon had been reminded of the melodious rippling softness of the flute. "Yes," she was saying, "I have expected this. It wouldn't be true or womanly, though it Lmight be womanish, to tell you I haven't, Duke." "Bah, so they've got as far as that already grimly soliloquised Blandon. "Of course you couldn't help seeing that I wag head over ears in love with YOII." responded her companion. "I haven't wanted you to help it. I have only been waiting till I should be of age to tell you, for, somehow, I felt as though you might think more of me if I were a man, in every sense of the word-even the technical one. Aunt, Mary and dear old Savvy have known for a long time, too, and I believe they're almost as anxious as I am that you should promise to be my wife." "I wonder why ? said the "Princess's girlish voice. "If only you could see yourself and know your- self as others see and know you, you wouldn't wonder," the Duke made adoring answer. "You're different from anyone else in the world, Lady Anne ■—simply the most beautiful and divine of all women. You needn't smile, and do such distract- ing things with your eye-lashes. It's all true— every word. I shant want to live if you won't be my wife, and naturally Aunt Mary and Savvy see that you, and only you, can make something of me. Make something of you echoed the girl, with a thrill of sadness in her eloquent voice. "Is that a happy fate for a woman, I wonder, to marry a man of whom she must try and make some- thing ? "I'd do my best—I really would, urged Leicester, rather dubiously. "It would be all right after you had .nade something of me, you know." "Perhaps. I could be sure it would, if-if I loved you." "But—you don't love me? That goes without saying." (Blandon's heart leaped, and he smiled behind his ambush of South African ferns.) "No—there's the pity of it. I like you, oh so much, and feel so very, very kindly towards you. But it's the sort of kindness I might have for a brother." "Wouldn't the other come, then, in time ? "Honestly, I'm afraid—I'm almost sure it wouldn't. You wanted me to talk frankly, didn't you, Duke? Well, then—there's something about you—I hardly know what-oh, I wish it were not so You are handsome, and I am foolish enough to care for that. I love beauty of any kind. In looks, in many of your ways, you are almost my ideal of what a man should be and then, just as I have persuaded myself that I could really learn to feel as I would like to feel, you do or say some little thing which makes the whole fabric I have built up tumble down again. It always has been so, since you first came to my dear Irish home, on that walking tour of yours, with a letter of intro- duction to guardy, and it always will be so, I know—there's no use in disguising it. Still "Still—what ? asked the poor fellow, miserably. "It isn't your fault. It's the fault of having an ideal, I suppose, that you come so near—it makes it seem worse when you fall short. And—it might be that in spite of all that I've just said to you, I could make up my mind to answer 'Yes to the question you have asked. "My darling!" lie exclaimed, with a sudden, rapturous change of tone-and Blandon Palgrav6 ground his teeth together in a futile rage. "Oh, don't-vet he heard Anne answer, with an agitation that hinted she was warding off some ardent approach of her lover's. Please wait, and hear me out. If I said I would be your wife, Duke, it would only be for one reason. Not because I loved you, not because I looked forward to the sort of happiness girls do hope for, when they marry. It would be only because you are very, very rich, and if you would promise to devote .some of your money to helping my poor people." She paused for an instant, as though expectantly, but he was silent, and the girl went on. "Only think how I am placed Though I'm not of age yet, and have a guardian, and all that, I am practically my own mistress, and have been since my dear father died. I believe the thought of all the poor creatures who looked to us, and for whom we .onld do nothing, because of our poverty. did more to kill him than any real illness of the body. Sometimes I feel as though it would kill me, too, though I am young and strong. The largest estate in Ireland, and tJe poorest, and most m ¡sem ble !-that'I what they say of Kildaragh! And it's true. Oh, the wretchedness I see before me every day when I am there—the suffering I am powerless to help I would give my life—yes, more than my life for those poor people among whom I hare grown up to be a woman-who love me with all their warm Irish hearts, though I 11 ,do nothing for them. Now, you understand, Duke, I a-u mercenary, but not I hope, quite as some other girls are mercenary. Are you willing to tt'. e me on those terms? Are you willing, when I am your wife, to go hand in hand with me in what I wish to make my life's work ? "I'm willing to take you on any terms," said the young man, though the rapture had died out of his voice. "You would help. with money, and time, and all that I could ask ? "With everything. All that I have, and am— to have you for my wife." "Then," answered Anne O'Neill, slowly and .;sadly I give myself to you." l Upon her words there followed a silence. 'Blandon could guess how it was being filled up, and the blood beat heavily in his pulses. A moment later, Leicester spoke. ".May I tell them all ? It would make me so happy—so proud -and be such a glorious ending to my birthday .■week. "Yes—tell if you like," said Lady Anne. And Blandon, crouching low among the ferns, felt, a rush of malicious satisfaction at the sound of her weary little sigh. Lady Mary Blandon was delighted at the news which the young man who was known to the world I «s the Duke of Leicester and her nephew had to igive her the next morning. He did not need to marry riches, and Anne •O'Neill possessed every other possible advantage. Besides the money which went with the title, and -came from the estates, there was the private fortune which the old Duke, a man of thrift in his •day, had managed to amass, and also the enormous sum which passed to Maurice from the woman whom all save three people on earth believed to have been his mother. The baby from the haunted cottage had been ..given the family name of Maurice, which from generation to generation of Blandons had been bestowed upon the eldest son. Lady Mary had brought him up with care as tender as though he had been her own child (so much depended upon the sometimes uncertain tenure of his life !). Savernake, still a fixture at Lurlworth Towers, had superintended the boy's education until the time when he was sent to Eton. And, if the two con- conspirators had ever felt any pangs of conscience for tne fraud they had perpetrated, they had ceased to be so troubled long, long before the death of the E>or, senile old man, which had given the title of tike of Leicester to the unconscious young impostor. Their interests and his had grown to seem fidentical, although in some ways he had proved a 'disappointment to the pair who liibd successfully jplotted to give him his high place. Habit had irendered them fond of the boy, but they did not -disguise from themselves or each other that lie was mot, either mentally, morally, or physically, satis- factory as man or peer. From the first moment, therefore, that Leicester had tome home from a certain walking tour in Ireland (undertaken a few months before his majority) with Velowioa accounts of Ladv Anne O'Neill, the lovelv young "chatelaine of Kildaragh, Lady Mary, aided by Savernake, had done what she could to encourage and promote the match, Anne's guardian, Sir James Clancarden, was known to them both, as the girl's dead father had been. Already she was noted for her beauty (though she had only been presented in the spring), her family was of the best and oldest in Ireland (therefore in the world), and young as she was, those who knew her spoke of her remarkable firmness of character. Had she lived in old and troublous days, her admirers said laughingly, yet with truth, she would have been a heroine, or perhaps a martyr, whose name would have lived in history among the "greatest and noblest women of her time. Fortunately for her, she had been born in the peaceful decline of the nineteenth century. Fortunately for the Duke of Leicester, also, since the was now of the right age to be made his wife. Her strength would sustain his weakness, Savernake and Lady Mary Blandon told each other, her beauty and youthful tact would render her an ideal Duchess, though her husband could never, even by her aid, be rendered the ideal Duke. Anne, with Sir James and Lady Clancarder, had been purposely asked to Lurlworth Towers, for a longer period than any of the other guests invited, to help celebrate the Duke's coming of age and now tne two match-makers were delighted with the result of their planning. They did not know what Randvl Palgrave thought he knew—that there was co 1 to be had on the Kildaragh estate, if only the money could be found for making use of the knowledge but they were overjoyed to accept Anne without a penny, and would gladly have hastened the wedding. It. had always been their desire that the Duke should marry young, if he could be brought to choose according to their wishes, and could they have had their way, a wedding would quickly have followed the announcement of the engagement. Leicester himself was also naturally impatient, for he was very much in love, and it seemed to his jealous imagination that all other men in the world would now be banded together to win his peerless fiancie from him, if lie did rot at once secure her irrevocably as his own. But Sir James Clancarden. pleaded as he was at the satisfactory match his ward was making, would not hear of a speedy marriage. Anne had blossomed earlier i-nto womanhood than most girls, possibly because of her keen intellect, which was far beyond her years. Still, she was only just eighteen, having passed her birthday but a fortnight before the Duke attained his majority, and it seemed to her guardian and his wife that it would be soon enough if the wedd'ig were celebrated in tho following autumn. Lord Wicklow, Anre's father, had once signified his wish that his daughter should not marry until she was nineteen, a4, earliest, and-despite the girl's willingness ti sacrifice herself for those whom she called "hrr people," the obligation of that wish gave her "n excuse for which, in secret, she was profoundly thankful. Anne's nineteenth birthday—October 29th-was finally appointed a the wedding-day, subject, of course-as she smilingly said—to changes mean- while. The Duke told Blandon Palgrave (who, though it was nearly a year in advance, was promptly invited to be best man on the auspicious occasion), and Blandon lost no time in repeating the intelligence to his father. Randal Palgrave became thoughtful. "October," he repeated. "parly pleven months first Ni-ell —there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip, that's all I've got to say." "Just as there was for you, one-and-twenty years ago, when Lord Wareham broke his neck, and Maurice's first breath came so near being his last," Ineered Blandon, who had never quite been able to forgive his parent for the misfortune of not being Duke of Leicester. "The slip may be in another direction next time," smiled Palgrave the elder, without giving sign of having been touched on the spot which, with him, was ever tenderest. His wife, who ought to have given him a vast fortune and hadn't, had thanked God for removing her from the world a dozen years ago. His five boys, all older than Blandon, had died in child- hood. Clever as he was, many of the various speculations in which he had engaged, had gone wrong, and now, at sixty-one years of age, he and his only son lived in a rather shabby Bloomsbury flat. The plarv which he still owned in Blank- shire (inland from Lurlworth Towers) was let for what it would fetch, and his one nther remaining bit of property was a house as dilapidated as it was ancient (which is saying a groat deal) close to the bank of the Thames ne:u' Marlow, half-jeeringly called the "Moated Grange." 0 ,e., It was unlet, simply because no foolish tenant could be found'to lay out money 8lÄiu,. for abso- lutely necessary lvpairs, or to pay even so small a sum as twenty pounds a year for the privilege of dwelling unler the roof, in its present ruinous state. The Moated Grange had been purchased, a quarter ;f a century previously, by the late Marquis Wareham, who had then been engaged in the agrSbable if reckless pursuit of "sowingliis wild oat*?." The place had even at that time°bccn scarcely of marketable value, owing to the long neglect of the impoverished family who had owned it, and Itfrd Wareham had bought it for a mere song. had never lived in the house for any prolong? period, but it had amused him to have three or four rooms made barely habitable, and to take parlies of kindred spirits up the river, to stop at fhe Grange over night. Of co-n-se the old house had the reputation of being baunted. Various more or less horrible ghost sWies were current regarding it, and it was even s»;d to have been the hiding-place for a band of robbers. There were rumours of a secret room, whio after Lord Wareham became owner, gossip affirmed that lie had discovered. But, when ques- tioned as to this, as he often was, he only laughed anct Thrngged his shoulders. ° ghastly legends which clustered round the Me<r,*ed Grange, had. in (he days of Lord Ware- ham's wild tenancy, but rendered it the moro attractive to his friends. Many a card-party had bewi held in the great bow-winllow room which juiced out over tl c moat, beginning after dinner oo one day, and not dissolving till men were ready te fall with fatigue from their chairs after a t^nty-four hours' sitting. Randal Palgrave had often enough been a member of such parties, for he e*fd his cousin had been on friendly terms, 'despite 1*9 treatment of Lady Mary. When Wareham O'ed, much to PalgraW's surprise, if appeared that tJie Jrloated Grange was left to him. with the hope fnat it might afford him half the amusement it had .a: ;4-00 ç. given us imiiier possessor. Palgrave had hardly known how* to accept the gift at the t,) believe it had been bestowed upon him in a spirit of mockery (,r genuine good feeling. IJe that as it might, how- ever, the house had remained empty and shut up for the space of one-and-twenty vears. Palgrave Bfldom or never thought of it at last, having"dis- covered, after many desperate efforts, that it was useless to attempt to sell or let it. Now, strangely enough, as lie dined alone in his Bloomsburv flat, reflecting upon the news of Leicester's forthcoming I marriage, suddenly the recollection of the Moated Orange flashed, picture-like, into his Illind. I >y Jove! he exclaimed aloud, rising from the table. He had not yet had the sweets, of which be was usually inordinately fond, but somehow, the taought of the old house, and an idea which that ihought suggested to him, had banished all desire •Ton for his favourite delicacies. The gloomy page-boy—who did, or was sup- posed to do, tile (ItitN- of a butler and at least two footmen combined*—was informed that, his master had a sudden indisposition, and Would go out into tiir- air. It was December, and a light flurry of snow was falling. lal'^iaAc delighted in 'he cool touch of the large, feathery flakes as I hey ll-w against his forehead, for hi.^ brad u a; hot. ;¡::d '.Iir} pulses begun to throb i;i his temples. "If it might be done he said to himself over ind over again, as he wandered among the many squares that gave air and light to the othenvise dingy neighbourhood in which he unwillingly made his home. "If it might be done 11 He thought over his affairs, and accurately calcu- lated his financial resources for the future. The dark image of the Moated Grange loomed with a strange attractiveness before him, and he wondered anxiously how much it would cost to have it made habitable. Though he had not visited the place for many yetti7,, he could, by taking into account the ravages of time since he had last seen it, estimate pretty closely what would need to be done. Slowly he rord himself to recall each room as he had known it, and the appearance of the two or three acres of land which comprised all that remained of an old and once extensive estate. A great deal of money would have to be spent, he decided, with a sigh of regret, on the grounds alone. If the plan which he was busily tiii-niii,, over in his brain were to be made workable, it would not do to let the place look in any way shabby or neglected. Inside, ceilings would have to be renovated, floors renewed, no doubt, and a hundred other pressing matters attended to, beside furniture to be bought. This last might be simple, as befitted the riverride residence of a poor man—a whim, he wot Id wish it to appear—but it must be pretty and attractive, and even bamboos and chintzes mount up to a good deal in the end. He could not do all that would be necessary, even for a few months, on less than fift en hundred pounds, lie at last ruefully concluded, and where the fifteen hundred pounds were to < ome from it was hard to see. His own income had dwindled to a miserable six hundred, a mere pittance for t iiian i ho lit(i brought up as he had been and besid* s, nis son had the will, if not the wherewithal, to be an extrava- gant youth. Between the two, not only did they live uu to every penny of their income, but were invariably head over ears in debt to anyone who I Would lend them money. The man's hear grew hot within him as he saw the chance of utilising his inspiration slipping away from hi n, for want of a few insignificant hundreds. It w is as though for a moment he had "actually h d liis hand upon the ducal coronet, and in the act of lifting it to his head, had seen it snatched from him. The opportunity of a lifetime might have been his. To lose it was, in his present state of mind, an anguish almost equivalent to being flayed alive. As lie walked he'uttcred a curse, which frightened a youthful and belated match-seller who heard it, and caused him to scamper ha-- '< nwa)\ Palgrave mentally turned < Ie list of such acquaintances as might yet be willing to lend him something. They were not many now, for he had used them rather recklessly in the past, and such as they were, none would be willing to risk more than a few sovereigns. None at least, save—ore. The name of that one sprang to Palgrave's lips, as a continuance of the inspiration which lie con- sidered that he had already had. "The boy himself," he muttered, chuckling. "He's of age now. Previously, if one wanted any- thing of him he had to screw it from his allowance. Now everything is his own, and though that old fox Savernake, and the she-bear, Mary Blandon, would keep him from accommodating me with a farthing if they could, I flatter myself that ten years' hard, untiring efforts have given me as much influence over him as they have. If I can't make up a pitiful story and get fifteen hundred or two thousand out of Leicester, my name isn't Randal Palgrave The thought delighted him, There was a spice of the dramatic in it; flavour, when one reflected exactly lioiv, the, money was to be expanded. ( To be continued.)

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actjolastic iloticto t ARGVILLE COLLEGE FOR GIRLS. EAST PARADE RHYL* (Rccognised by the Board of Education). Principal-MISS MEftCMER Well qualified English and Foreign Resident Staff And Visiting Professors. French—Paris. German-Aix-le-Chapelle. Pupils have been successfully prepared for the following Examinations Oxford and Cambridge Locals London Matricula- tion Associated Hoard of R.A.M. and R.C.M. School and Local Centre. Autumn Term began Sept 21st. ST. OSWALD'S, RUSSELL ROAD Ril YL. (Recognised by the Board of Education). Principals THE MISSES REES (Miss E. REES "Registered") Assisted by well-qualified English and Foreign Resident Governesses and Visiting Professors. f Preparation for all Exams. U Special care to delicate children. References and Prospectus on Application. M——m ■■ II IHIIM II'MII II H I III III BIH v- IIIIW Uiiiifc THE MUSIC STUDIO. MR & MRS BEN JACKSON, A.C.V. & A.I.U.M., Piano, Violin, Harp, Violincello, Mandolin and Banjo. Pupils visited and prepared for examinations. For terms, address, 160 Wellington Rd., lhyl. GG 1IS1 "8íL MR. BRYAN E. WARHURST I.S.M. PROFESSOR OF MUSIC. Prepares candidates for the Royal Academ y o Alusic, Incorporated Society of Musicians, and Tr inity College, London. Organ, Pianoforte, Singing, Harmony, Theory &c. LATEST SUCCESSES, April, 190,1-Advanced senior ItA 1\1. Pianoforte, >. n n <1 i, Theory, July, 1904—Advanced senior I.S.M. Organ. Pianoforte. Second Grade Singing. From Diplomas gained A.L.C M. ORGAN RECITALS. CONCERTS, &c. For Terms, Address, IIAYDN HOUSE, BRIGHTON ROAD, RHYL. 468 MISS L. KA TLIN, PROFESSOR OF MUSIC, GIVES LESSONS, Elementary aud advanced, on the Mandolin, Banjo, Guitar, Violin, Pianoforte, and Organ. Speciality Mandolin, double and triple stoping. Pupils trained for concert work. Schools visited. Private or Public Mandolin or Banjo Hands Arranged and Conducted. A Rood assortment of Sheet Music in stock also Strings and Fittings for the various instruments. All kinds of Musical Instrument* in stock or to order. Open for Engagements for At Homes, Evening Parties, &c For terms apply 128 Wellington Rd, Rhyl. 467 RUTHIN GRAMMAR SCHOOL. Fine new buildings on a magnificent site, near the Clwydian range, very bracing and healthy. Accommodation for from 30 to 40 Boarders. Excel- lent Playing Fields. Thi? old Endowed School attracts Boarders from all parts. Pupils are prepared for almost all the Public Examinations. Careful attention to individual req!,irenie., ts. Parent8 ppending their holidays at Rhyl, are respcc"fully iuvittd to visit the S hoOI. Head matter REV. W. P. WHITTINGTON, M.A. (formerly Scholar of Jenu College, Oxford), Assisted bv a strong Staff of Masters. 324 ELWY HALL Home School for Daughters of Gentlemen (Recognised by the Board of Education. Principals MISS J, M. BEST, B.A. (London), Peuistcr(,d" Student of Royal Holloway Ci-llege). MISS K. E. LEY, Senior Optime, Mathematical Tripos, Cambridge, c. Rogistercd" (Scholar of Ntwnham College). Prospectus & References upon application. 702 ST. ASAPH COUNTY SCHOOL. Chairman of the Governors: THE RIGHT REV. THE LORD BISHOP OF ST ASAPH. Vice-Chairman PETER ROBERTS, ESQ., J.P. Headmaster: EDWIN MAINER, ESQ., M.A. (Cambridge), B.Se. (Ist T)ivision, London). Classical Master E. L. HOUSECROFT, ESQ., of Selwyn College, Cambridge. Science Master: II. B. WOODALL, ESQ. (University College, London). The School re-opened on September 12. The School stands on elevated ground in a position which commands a view of the picturesque Vale of Clwyd and within five minutes' walk of the Cathedral and Railway station. For particulars apply to the Headmaster, or to CHAS. GRIM8LE\, St. Asaph. Clerk to the Governors. 378 TUITION FOR BOYS. REV. E. E. INGHAM, 8 WEST PARADE, RHYL Prepares Pupils for Business and all Examinations. Reference to former pupils. Term commenced September 19th CHURTON VILLA Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies Principal MRS JOHN LUCAS, A.C.P. (Honors) Special Drawing Prize Holder; Member of the College of Preceptors. Pupils successfully prepared for any public exami nations in English, &c., or M usic. Drawing, Painting, and other Arts taught. Juvenile and Adult Dancing Classes. Reference ia permitted to Venerable Archdeacon Perowne, D. D., and others. Half-term, Nov. 7th. FAIRHOLME, FAIRFIELD AVENUE RHYL. Principals THE MissEs ROBERTS. Assisted by qualified Resident Governesses and Visiting Masters. Pupils prepared for all Examinations. Piospectuses and References on Application ORIEL HOUSE SCHOOL. PREPARATORY DAY AND BOARDING SCHOOL FOR BOYS FROM SIX TO TWELVE YEARS OF AGE. KINDERGARTEN CLASS. For Prospectus apply to Lady Principal. Winter term September 20th. MIDDLE-CLASS EDUCATION. F. WELSH, B.A Course of Instruction: ENGLISH SUBJECTS, CLASSICS, MATHEMATICS, FRENCH, BOOK. KEEPING, AND SHORTHAND. BOARDERS RECEIVED PRIVATE TUITION Full particulars on application. Address-SEAFIELD. BUTTERTON RD., RHYL I School re-opened September 21st. ^tucttoitecrs, &c. Frank Jewell, AUCTIONEER, House and Estate Agent, Valuer, Life, Fire, Accident, and Plate Glass Insurance Agent. Offices Grey Mount, Prestatyn. Greenhalgh & Geary, FRANCIS GEARY, A.A.I., Auctioneers, House and Estate Agents, Valuers, Accountants nd Insurance Agents. Mortgages negotiated and Advances arranged upon Approved Securities. Balancing, Auditing, and Posting of Tradesmen's Books Authorilcd to levy Distraints for Rent. PROMPT CASH SETTLEMENTS (OFFICES & SALE ROOMS- QUEENS ARCADE & AUCTION MARl MARKET STREET, ItIl YL. Sales by Auction, and Private Contract if Preferred, Furniture, Stock in Trade, &c Registryfoi Letting Farms, Business Premises, House (Furnished and Unfurnished), and Apartment* and Collection of Rents. sposal of Businesses and Stocks without publicity Valuations for Probate and Administration. Insurance of Life Prooorty. and Plate Glass. Chas. P. Sheffield, LIVE STOCK SALESMAN, AUCTIONEER AND VALUER, For 10 years Salesman and Valuer]*to Messrs FRANK LLOYD & SONS, WREXHAM), Pegs to announce that he has Purchased the Fre' hold of the MOLD CATTLE MARKE r, togethe with the Goodwill of the Business so successfully carried on by Mr J E Davies for the last 25 years; aud haying engaged a fully qualified and expert Stiff of Assistants, he hopes, with strict attention to business combined with moderate charges, to be entrusted with the conduct of sales and valua- tions of every description in Rhyl and neighbours hood. Correspondence invited to 11? THE CA T'TLE MARKET, MOLD. > BawBBBBoaima— Fred Wallis, Auctioneer and Valuer, Accountant, House, Estate, and Insurance Agent Furnished and Unfurnished Honses to Let on application. Rents collected. Ben. Williams, Knmel Chambers, Kinmel Street RHYL Is prepared to arrange for The Sale of Furniture and other Effects either by PRIVATE TREATY or by PUBLIC AUCTION. Moderate Charges and Prompt Settlement In all transactions -,rr G. Perkins, Auctioneer and Valuer House, Estate & Insurance Agent, MO ¥ ¥ V Pi i\ 0IV I i o U S K, A B h K G E L K Auction and Private Sales of Property aud Furuituro, Cash advances if required. Immediate Settlements. V -dilation for Probate or Mortgage skiliully prepared. Hotel and Stock-in-Trade Valuer. General Arbitrator. Estates carefully managed. Rents collected House and Apartment Agency. Agent to the chief Fire, Lifo and Accide Insurance Companies. (2 Mr Jos. Williams, AUCTIONEER & VALUER Accountant, Property and Insurance Agent GENERAL CERTIFICATE HOLDER Appointed by His Honour Judge Horatio Lloyd, K SALES BY PUBLIC AUCTION personally con ducted on reasonable Terms, with immediate Cash Settlements. VALUATIONS AND INVENTORIES prepared for Mortgage, Probate, Partnership, Transfer of Tenancy and other purposes. Representative of the leading Life, Fire, Acci- dent, Fidelity, Plate-glass, Employers' Liability, Burglary, Licences, and Live Stock Companies. Estate Agent in all its branches. Mortgages procured. Registrar of Marriage Private Address Peterboro' House, The Grove Offices Couuty Chambers, 51 Kinmel Street Rhyl. Wallis and Scott, (Late-SARSON & SCOTT Auctioneers and Valuers. Mortgages Procured. Insurances Effected Rents Collected. Valuations Executed. Sales by Public Auction of Land and House Properties, Farming Stocks, Household Furniture, &c., conducted, with Immediate Cash Settlements. Trustees under the Deeds of Arrangements Ac 888. General Certificate Holders, appointed b ir Horatio Lloyd, Kt. Offices :— Iligh Street, Prestatyn The Oldest Established Auction and Estate Agency Business in Rhyl. Hubert R. Holbeche, Suooessor to Messrs Wm. Hall, and the Late T. C. Amos. AUCTIONEER, House, Land, and Estate Agent Surveyor, Valuer, & Architect. Sales by Auction and Valuations of Property, Furniture, Farming Stock, &c. C, Valuations for Probate, Mortgage, Transfer, &c., Properties and Businesses Sold by Private Treaty, Letting and Collection of Rents of Residences, Houses, Shops, Farms, &c., Furnished and Unfurnished. Mortgages negotiated. Inventories taken and checked. Properties and Estates carefully managed. Building Estates laid out. Surveys, Maps, &c., for any purpose. Insurances effected through al principal offices. The Auction, Estate, and Survey Officos TOWN HALL, RUYL. And 81 ASAPH. MR. Collins Roberts, AUCTIONEER & VALUER, Surveyor, House, Land and Estate Agent Mortgage Broker, Probate Mortgage and Agricultural Valuer Fire and Life Agent, OFFICES- WELLINGTON OH AMBERS, IlEYLt