The Rhos Herald

I THE. CK WARIS YOu. „ „ I. ¡I 11 Every Tells a ¡ Story." ID Dh you softer trom shooting or continuous pains in the back ? Or from a heavy, dull, tired feeling, even when getting up m the morning ? Or is your head continually aching? Ois are you nervous, dizzy, with specks floating before your eyes. or ringing ncisds >in your ears ? Is your appetite poor, or are you losing flesh ? c Have you ever suspected your kidneys ? Sick or weak kidneys produce these symptoms. With every box of Doan's Backache Kidney Pills full information about kidney disease is given. UHIC acid is a deadly poison which is free of uric ncid, and how essential therefore produced in the iinmiin body, ;md it is to keep the knl-f-ys well, strong, and which it is the constant duty of the in <vki?ig ctd r. The kidneys are kidney's to collect from the hJood and to thro •• be«u-si.a),e-i oVj»an<. comprised of somberltiw out of the system, together with ot,h,-r was:* lirr!<; tuber. whu:u tire and pour their 1)1IItters. in the urine, s r-tiuns into othtr tubts that lead down One way of discovering wl et iei- tli.-r, is an into the bladder. It does not take much to excess of iiric, acid in your- sy-,tonk, is by set th, ki ineys hack, atlit when they get I examining the condntott of your it-iiie: for beiii t in iiieir troiktlmy are not able to right often when there is a** i icei-s tlr uric m i' tht'-msflves vtfiihoiit ar-sistatice. The uric acid will appear in it, lo-ksng' very much lik« a;:d other Waste inalter* collected, from the grains of cayenne-pepper or at'in-s of r**d s.-uid. Iiluo 1 immediately be«iu to clog the kidney*, Among the inost disastrous results of au causing that dull, teavy ache in the hack, excess of uric acid in the system are the and those sharp twinges of pain When yOn Among the inost disastrous results of au causing that dull, teavy ache in the back excess of uric acid in the system are the and those sharp twinges of pain when you diseases known as atone in the kidney an.1 sloop, bend, or are lifting anything. Th uric bladder, and gravel. acid crystallises in the muscles and joints so Also it is the r>re*e«ce of too much uric acid that < very turn or twist brings tbe keenest in' the body that causes so ranch of he pain tor nr?; it attacks tbe with neuralgia and suffering. %vlijch are ■•.onmumly ]> t down arii sciatica; it is the cause of gout; and-it and suffering. %vlijch are -.otitiuiiulv ]> t down arii sciatica; it is the cause of gout; and-it under the genera,} name of rhenmatism. brings on nervousness, dizzine s, headache. The only way to strike hard and truly at tiredness, and various'urinary disorders. these diseases is t.o ctir^ the cause of them, If yon >nffer-,fr.■»« ;qynf.!h$'(' svnmtoms that is to sayvsto cure the-kidneys. Doan's 1 or disf a-«s you Backache Kid-iiey. Pills-, are apecial kidnl.r Kidney Pills itt lot-ice. There is no oilier p- medicine, compounded of drugs which act median- so promlt and effective in curing directly and strongly and only on the these tiou le's: Tn- r 1:n why Dmn's l'ills kidneys. are so prompt, and ei ic idous in their action It is well to'realise how much work the ] is simp y that they cure the kid< and thns kidneys have to:'do in order to. k-vp the body I remedy the 'Ciiuse of your trouble. URIC acid j Starts more Diseases than ahy other Poison. j Your Kid alone can save you. TMF! fVMI.Y .jJUiwaiuian v mm rrr. | GENUINE t Do* III Be earefnl to jr«t tW {Rf«u*nf Doai V IfflgH Backache Kidney Pills. They cannot br HBBIO/?3CT bought loose. Xlicy may be obtained o- EaMBt 1 fIff*- — HTwltW iJl chemists wrcl stores, or direct, jwst frw, t L/k\ CsOS^ I from tlio yostei-Wlan 8, Wejls- lbtt\ i\\MlnKa w- price ■ I -7 J J, J." ■■ —^ .J THE; LIGHTNING BINDER ,h. For all classes and stzes of Papers, Music Lecture Notes, Sermons. Statements, Letters. Mafiraaafines. PeriodioaJs. &c. Perfectly tight but immediately released, '111" flh. 'I ""h"t:tL .h.Ulff 8"" IIhll" I'" II ,1 t".tI." Ntl'" '1A1 .it. tUf!t seir-Acn/tff aemtia :sPR11IG A W illif office TIDY. t Bound in Full Cloth i Strong Steel pring ;aadcS r Ii.W 'W. "J'k'tI''4"f'I.IU:ir\f. CaH and ln»peot 3*me «t v „■ K. BCiite Son*, f •1 j. •••*• •» ,4 'ii. r •' V., ,c 4 .J ¡ i j I. :•

[ALL BIGHTS RESERVED. J His Last Proposal BY J. FITZGERALD MOLLOY, Author of "Court Life Below Stairs," i he ,c:een's Comrade," The Romance of Royalty," &c. "These three days have passed like a akot," said he, edging his way to ,Ü he wanted to tell her. f "I'm glad you have enjoyed the county," i flhe answered, staring straight in front 01 her and quite dot mined not to return the glance which she tub was fixed upcn her. "The country," h- repeated, as if its con- nection with his enj. yment struck him for the first time. "I wasn't thinking of that. When I came down on Saturday l seemed as r if I had no end of a time before j.aa, and low that it's Monday afternoon—that it's Monday afternoon, and I'm leaving you "Yes, I know, you are rather glad to be getting back to town," she said, with a ner- vous attempt to laugh. "You know that's not what I mean, and if you walk so quickly you'll put int. out of breath. Why are you in such a terrible burry?" "Because I want to get home in time for tea," she told him. Look here, Mabel," he said, his voice growing husky from the force of his feelings; "you know how much I care for yoi J "For goodness' sake don't go over the same thing again," she interrupted. '[ "It's nearly a year since I spoke about it before." "And now you want to spoil the pleasure of the last few days." "Then they were pleasant to you, too "And prevent your coming down to us again." "That's just it," he said, with a ringofsad- t ness that touched her. "Just what?" she asked quickly, turning her head for a second to see his dear plain face shining with an affection that made her j- heart bound. "Just this. You know that I love you.? f- that you are everything in the world to me t but if I have no chance of ever winning you, if you cannot care for me, it's a mistake for me to come here and bore you with my pro- posals, and it's a thing I canJt stand, for it takes the heart out of me. So if you don't love me, I must only try to forget you. It will be hard work, but it would only mak" it harder if I were to go on coming down here whenever I was asked." "And so you wish to turn your back on old friends," she said, knowing how unreason- able and unjust her words were. You and I must be something more than friends, or—nothing," he told her. When he spoke of his love, his words fell on her ears like music. Come what would, she knew she would never forget them they would ring in her ears through the silence of lonely days, through the sleepless hours of night, when, perhaps, she would give the whole world to hear them once more; Then shle mentally scoffed at herself for being romantic and sen-, timental, and strove to harden her troubled heart. There were duties she owed to herself and to her family which must be performed. In the time to come she would no doubt ridi- cule herself for having ever thought of marry- ing him; she might even come to agree with others in thinking him plain. A stolen look assured, her that would be impossible; at least, so long as his grey eyes were so full of love for. her as, now..> Thaef-^laiixe almost be- traTed her into tenderness towards him. al- most made her forget. her duty, her impera- tive duty. "So tell me, Mabeil." said the voice, which though it still pleaded, had now an under- tone of determination, "if there's any chance for me. I ani willing to wait if you like but I must know my fate to-day." "How, foolish you are," were the words that slipped from her words that were not in the least what she had intended to say, or suehas duty suggested, to her. „ "Foolish to love you?" "To want to marry me. You know the three younger girls have to be educated, and my father has never been able to save. And now that Sir William has succeeded to the property, and is full of new-fangled notions about it, the dear old dad, doesn't find the agency as easy a post as it was in the old baronet's time." "I know Sir William is a fool," came the quick and bitter reply. "He and my father have had more than One disagreement already, and that makes ray mother and myself, very troubled as to *What may happen 'any day, considering my father's hasty temper." "I don't want a wife with money," he fclurted out." "No, but. as you are poor-" "You cannot niarry me?" "I was going to say it would be wiser for: Jon to marry a girl with a fortune; there are inany rich girls who are not too ugly; or you *niglit marry the daughter of a solicitor, who 'Would send you the needed briefs and make your fortune." "I didn't ask you th.,ularrya pauper," he Said, reproachfully. tfc I two hundred a year, besides whatever I may earn." "But think, what could we do on two hun- dred a vear," she asked, bracing herself to be tiard, while hating herself for the words aha felt compelled to speak, in the hope of cur- 16g ,him of his infatuation. "We should have o live in a London suburb, in a rabbit hutch of a flat, with pianos dinning in our ears from above and below, .while the quarrels of our Neighbours were thrust on uS from either side trough the match-board walls." "If you loved me half as well as I love you, roll would not think of such things," he said, Rlf angrily, half sadly. "I am practical and you are romantic, just as all men are," she told him, with an effort gaiety which she was far from feeling. Poverty and marriage don't go well to- gether. "If I were only as/wealthy as that fool "You mean dear old Major Hiskins. Why near eighty." .You know well enough I mean Sir Wil^ ti Elul. You are only trifling with Ine;" At that she frowned. He. was. certariily los- his temper, and he had dared to insinuate *tiat she was mercenary. It was hopeless to Expect that any man would ever understand any woman; but that he should so wilfully Sjjd grossly misjudge her, was intolerable. rhey walked on through the park, beautiful ? its undulating green, and glorious in its an- oaks and elms, both of them silent and ^rable. When at last they came within sight of ,the house, her home,- a red brick many S&pled dwelling, smothered in clematis, and ,ahding serenely in its yew hedged 'garden1, ^^ade his last appeal. Uj Wabel, do you love, me.?;. Will you marry J he cried out.' J tk; i?' cannot marry you," she answered, how detestably cold and- harsh tine Of wisdom sounded'. Iq will wait for you for years; I will work for jon like a slave," he said. "It would be foolish for us to make pro- mises, to bind ourselves perhaps for years and years, until we grown old and all the freshness of our youth had gone from us," she j replied, in the same slow, frozen tone. j "For God's sake don't give me an ariswer, Bike that," he said passionately. I "It's the best one I can give for both our sakes," she said. I "You won't marry me < "I cannot marry you." | "Is that your final decision? Think, dear, j think all it means to me. Think, for I'm ask- I ing you now for the last time." | Before speaking she drew a deep breath; the sunny scene lying before her suddenly lost its glory, and the singing of a lark over- head seemed to mock her as she said. It is my final answer." When they had silently passed through the garden and come to the front of the house J they found the friend with whom he had I come waiting for him and ready to start 3 back to town. Tea had been served under the great cedar tree on the lawn where he i was talking to her parents, while three sisters were all at once chattering to .Mr Wil- liam, a stout young man, with a, round, sliin- ing face, fair, smooth hair, a confident manner, and a loud voice. Quickly his alert blue eyes fixed themselves on the two figures as they approached, and he immediately understood what had happened. "By Jove, she's chucked the fellow," he said to himself delightedly, as he took a cigar from his case. The youngest of the girls hurried forward on seeing them, her thin legs twinkling under her short, white skirts, her hair flying behind her. "Oh, Frank, where have you been? We waited tea for you ever so long," she called out in her shrill treble as she linked her arm in his and walked beside him. "I'm afraid the tea is cold," the child's mother said. "Have a whiskey and soda instead," sug- gested her father. I "No, thanks, I really don't want anything," I he said, rousing himself, and then turning to his friend added, "I'm quite ready." "So am I; your bag is in the car." He shook hands with all of them save Sir j William, whom he did not seem to see, much to the satisfaction of that individual, who chuckled to himself at the oversight. But as Frank took Mabel's hand its firm pressure seemed to say farewell for ever. At the mere thought her heart sank and almost betrayed her into bidding him then and there to stay. But the words remained unspoken, and her eyes had no opportunity of telegraphing a message to him. In a confused way she heard the hubbub made by her sisters, heard the puffing and clicking of a motor-car, heard her father's voice bidding his guests come soon again, and then saw 'the car take away from her the man she had lost for ever, and who, she realised in that moment, was the sole master of her heart. When the car and its occupants had passed down the little avenue and had disappeared at the turn of the dusty road, her aching eyes came back to her surroundings to find Sir William watching her intently and with an air of satisfaction that was, intolerable to her. "They'll have a pleasant run up to town," he said, taking the cigar from his mouth and smiling at it as he held it between his fingers. "Yes, I suppose so, she answered mechanically. o l came. over, with a message from my mother, he said, coming, nearer to Mabel. "She's been wondering vtliy she„. hasn t seen you for the last few days, and she hopes you will come up to the hall and spend the day with her to-morrow." "That is very kind of Lady Western, bint to-morrow is the day she and I are to de- corate the church for Confirmation. I sup- pose she must have forgotten that she fixed on it," Ma.bel answeted, as she went towards the house. "Don't go in and leave me alone, he said, •reproachfully. "Alone she. said and turning round she noticed for the first time that the others had silently disappeared. A blush came into her cheeks as she realised that this had been done for the purpose of'leaving her alone with Sir William. "I beg your pardon; I thought my mother and the girls——" she paused in con- fusion as she saw him smile. He also knew whv they had gone. "So you can't come to the Hall to-mor- row?" he closer to her. "Not if we are to decorate the church." "Well. when, next you do, I want you to enter it as its future mistress," he said, nod- ding at her and- congratulating himself on having proposed so neatly. She stared at him without speaking, a»d without the slightest sign of ,pleasure in her face, which he thought had grown suddenly pale. • "I mean that I want yotf to become my wife," he explained,, surprised that she showed no signs of delight. As she continued to look at him his round face shining, his thick ears protrud- ing, his manner. almost aggressive in its authoritv—he appeared hateful to her, and she wondered how she could ever have thought it possible for her to share her, life with him, even for the sake of securing her father's position, and of being able to èdu- cate and settle the girls. I "Won't you say yes, he said, slipping his j a,rm round her waist. I She stepped back quickly, her face flushed with indignation. I "Come, 15 come, we are lovers, aren't we?" he said, seeing he had made a mistake. It needed all her self-restraint to subdue her anger as she replied, "I cannot accept your offer. Sir William." "What, won't you be my wife?" he asked in amazement. I. "No, I cannot be your wife," she answered determinedly. "Pooh, 'you re put out to-day; I can sea that I spoke at the wrong moment. Think over it, and you'll come round. I'll not take your answer now." "It will always be the same," she said, calmly. At that he smiled incredulously. "Not a bit of it," he said. "We w&n't talk of it for a month, and then I'll ask you again. You'll have time to come round W then; and now I'll take myself off." He raised his hat and went whistling down the little pathway leading into the park. When he had gone she rushed into the house and up to her bedroom, where, locking the door, she flung herself on her bed and sobbed bitterly. The sunshine pouring through the uncur- tained window, as well as the voices of the: children playing in the garden, seemed to mock the misery of one who had not gauged her;heart until too late, until she had wil- fully put from her the love which she now realised was the greatest gift life held for her. And suffering as she did, she had for the first time some idea of the pain she had inflicted on another. The sigM of his face roae before her, dearer than ever in its plain- ness, his eyes full of disappointment and sor- row. Ah, if only she could see him once again, if only she could let him know that her wordliness, her dream of reigning as mis- tress of the Hall, even her solicitude for her sisters' future, had all given way before her love for him. The noise of a motor-car sounding above her sobs seemed to her at first the creation of her imagination, but as it grew louder and drew nearer, she quickly raised her head and listened breathlessly. Then, rushing to the win- dow, she looked out and saw the car driv- ing up the little avenue, with Frank sitting limply in front, his head bandaged, his face ghastly. At that the room swung round her. When she recovered consciousness she was sitting on a chair, feeling weak and giddy. A glass of water somewhat revived her, she bathed her face, braced herself for an effort, and made her way downstairs, clutching at the bannisters for help. The sounds of scared voices and hurried steps reached her, and then one of her sisters came bounding up the stairs three steps at a time, on her way to the linen press. He's not killedi" she called out, thrilled by a not unpleasant excitement, "but he has had a narrow scrape. It's all the fault of those murder cars." Mabel found him in the library, lying on a sofa, and apologising for all the trouble he was giving. When he saw her in the door- way, the expression of her terror, love, and pity, stopped his words, and he muttered something which her mother, who was bend- ing over him, mistook for a monn. How yoa must suffer," said that gentle, kindly lady, compassionately. "Oh, how I wish the doctor was here. What can be keeping him?" "I don't know that I need him now," he said, looking over her shoulder to the figure in the doorway, and smiling in a way that made the good woman think he was getting light headed. "I mean, that is, I am much better now," and then a sudden pang shoot- ing through his head made him wince and gasp. At that Mabel crossed the room swiftly and put her hand gently on his ban- daged head. He looked straight into her I eyes and read what was in her heart. I She might not have been able to keep back the tears if at that moment the doctor, breathless with haste and bustling with im- portance, had not come into the room, fol- lowed by the patient's friend, by her father, and by her sisters, whose feelings were equany divided between sorrow for Frank, whom they loved, and gratification at being associated with such a sensational acci- dent. A blow was given to their self-import- ance when they were asked to leave the lib- rary; but they lingered outside the door planning all that they would do for his bene- fit and comfort when in the days to come he would sit in a basket chair on the lawn. Though his accident was not so serious as had been feared, yet the doctor was by no means willing that it should be made light of. Rest and quiet were above all things necessary, and he must remain whore he was for the present, an order Mabel heard with secret delight, and her sisters with frankly expressed pleasure. In the days that fol- lowed they forcibly took him" into their charge. Their doyotion, which no hint of his could lessen, prevented his being left alone for any time with Mabel, but on such rare occasions he made no reference to the afternoon he had t parted from her, to the proposal which he }.ad said would be his last. And, though h. I was undoubtedly happy in having her with I him, in hearing her voice, in watching her, yet he made no reference to his love for her. His happiness was not lessened at hearing that Sir William had, on the same afternoon as the accident had occurred, gone up to towii for a week, so that lie was spared the irritation which that young man's presence aiways caused him. Mabel was also relieved by his absence, but she 1readed his return, dreaded to hear him ask her to marry him. This increased her anxiety to make, as soon as possible, the corfession which she told herself was due to Frank. But as she could never count on be- ing left alone with him for five minutes, she began to fear that she would not have cli.mee of speaking before he left. At last a flower show in the neighbourhood offered a temptation to the three, girls to forsake their duty, and though, like true heroines, they would have liked to put temptation behind theia and suffer in silence and solitude while their heartless neighbours were gay, yet it required but little persuasion from Frank to inducc them to leave him for an afternoon. When they had set off with many promises to return early, and instructions as to how he was to ac,t meantime, he strayed into the park and presently found himself in the spot whcit- he had been when he had last proposed to Mabel. The place seemed so closely associ- ated with her that he remained there think- of her as he walked slowly backwards and forwards, until at last he heard sounds of a light- footstep behind him, and turning quickly ••'be came face to face with lier. The first thing he noticed was that her eye", avoided his, and that her manner seemed embarrassed. Aren't you sorry you didn't go with the children to the flower show?" he said. "No," she answered, "I remained behind that I might talk to you—that I might tell yoa something——" What is it?" he asked quickl», wonder- ing, hoping. When I spoke to you that afternoon be- fore you left—I didn't know myself. I strove to harden my heart, to be worldly, to be am- bitious, but when you had left me, I saw that I had been deceiving myself, that I had been merely playing a part-and I knew tbti, I had always loved you." Mabel," he called out, standing still, scarce knowing if he could believe what he heard. Then with an effort he calmed him- sell and said, Don't let pity for my acci- dent make you say what you may regret later on." Oh, Frank, don't be cruel," she said. But as yet he could not be certain that she had given him what he had so often pleaded for in vain; and restraining his desire to take her in his arms, lie said, "Have you thought cf Sir William?" "I have refused to be his wife." Abd you will be mine?" he asked, breath- lessly. "I will never be the wife of any other man," she said. At that he flung his arms around her and kissed her. Presently, as they returned to tell the news to her parents, he said, "I am wonder- fully lucky to have escaped death and won the wolffian of my heart, all in one week."