The Rhos Herald

{ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] George Delamerr's Will BY SHIRLEY RAYNARD, Author of A Wife's Temptation," Under the Holly," "An Interrupted Tour," &c. George Delamere was dead. The news passed from one to another, and by night the Whole of the inhabitants of the little country town of Carnford had heard it, and the farmers, who had attended the market there, had carried it home. It would be almost safe to say that. the el,d man was mentioned in every house within i, radius of ten miles, for he had been an eccentric and a topic of con- versation for many L long year. Carnford Manor House stood some fifty yards back from the high road, on slightly rising' ground, a comfortable well built Jlouse, with no pretensions to architectural beauty, its front during the leafless season bare to the passers by. In summer time, when the large trees at the bottom of the broad lawn were in leaf, the Manor House was almost concealed from view, but to-day its windows, with their drawn blinds, could be seen by everyone. The few remaining leaves fell silently from the trees, and the rain dripped drearily from their bare branches. The farmers driving past on their. return from market glanced up at the dark- ened windows, and instinctively shuddered. Some of them muttered to themselves—"Poor Miss Joyce." Inside the house, the bustle and commo- tion of early morning had died down to a melancholy silence—an unnatural silence. Doctors, lawyers, and undertakers had all been, had had their say and departed, and at last Joyce Heaton, or Delamere, as she had been called from a child, was left alone. She sat in the deserted library, trying to realise what the death of this strange kinsman meant to her. Brought up from early child- hood by her uncle, she could not remember a time when he had not been part of her life. Whilst supplying the girl's every material need, and sheltering her from the world, he had effectually crushed all her childish ad- vances towards affection. Shut up within himself, he had lived for years working out scientific problems, and practically dead to all human interests surrounding him. Joyce had tried to do all that a daughter should do for the old man's comfort, tout she had found years ago that to try to draw affection from him was useless. Now he was dead, and strange feelings of pity, remorse, and loneli- ness were blended in her breast: pity for the poor old man who had lived his life devoid of all affection, and remorse wiat she had not ? loved him in spite of himself. She forgot that love was never vet subject to the will. Absolutely alone in the world, she felt de- solate and miserable, and incapable of mak- ing plans for the future. Circumstances, however, often do for us .what we are incap- v able of doing for ourselves, and so it was to be with Joyce. Thursday, the day fixed for the funeral, I arrived, and with it several of Mr. Dela- < mere's distant relatives, wham Joyce had never before seen. They followed all that remained of George Delamere to its last rest- i *• ing place in Carnford Churchyard, and than ? returned to the Manor House to hear how he had disposed of his substance. It was with some impatience they waited in ihe large dining-room for Mr. Wilson, the ckl solicitor, to take his seat at the table, and draw from a long envelope the last will and < testament of George Delamere, of Carnford Manor, in the county of Surrey. He spread { he document out upon the table, and read it in a clear unemotional voice. First came be- quests to servants, then several bequests to neighbouring charities, and then the testator directed that all his remaining property, in- eluding Carnford Manor, should be held in trust for one year from the date of his death, and then handed over jointly- to his only son Ralph Del amere, and hi's niece Joyces Heaton, .or Delamere, on condition that they married each other within the said year. In -ease this condition was not complied with, he directed that the property should be divided equally between the aforesaid charities. This Was all, except that Joyce was to have the use of the Manor House for a year if she chose to live in it. The distant relatives looked at each other ^xiesrtionincrly. "But he- had no son," burst hastily from One of them. "He was never married." "Pardon me, but I have all the needful certificates in my possession," returned Mr. Wilson, calmly. I happen, too, to have been present at my late client's marriage exactly thirty-six years ngo. There was one son of this marriage, whose age is now thirty-five." Joyce, to whom the knowledge of her uncle's Carriage came with as much of a surprise as to the rest of his relatives, remained quietly Seated until the general talk had gradually f become silenced. One by one the guests made their excuses and departed, until at length Joyce found herself alone with the solicitor, and then her anger broke forth. a "How could my uncle put such a provision his will," ehe said, going over to where Mr. Wilson sat. "To think it possible that J roan and woman who, until now, hate never beard of each other's existence should strike a bargain—for it could mean nothing "It is, I must confess, a somewhat strange provision," returned the lawyer drily. "At present we have no knowledge as to the Whereabouts of your cousin lialph Delamere. -He has been a rather extensive traveller. Pniefly on Government business, I believe, is now out of England. A letter which «as been sent to his solicitor will reach him, »o^doubt, in due time." I shall leave here within a week," said Joyce firmly. "I have no wish to be in the fiouse when my cousin returns. In fact, I not wish to even see him." Let me beg of you to do nothing in haste, y dear young lady. Think quietly over the ^atter, before taking any step which yon toay regret." I cannot see that I can possibly regret eepmg out 0f Iny cousjn's Way until the year over- After that it cannot matter w.e meet or not." ^ou will bear in mind, Miss Delamere, vour refusal to comply with the provi- n. °* your uncle's will will deprive your ance1"' &S We^ aS y°urse^> his inherit- tui-nViatTIS the bitterest part of all," re- idoino- SrCS sadly- "But 'it is none of my uncle must have been mad— *iulte mad. sair/ tvt'11 ^ou S°od day, Miss Delamere," hat • Wll80n after a Pa use, taking up his I «ior^afe-j^? n°^ caI1 me Delamere any ttse n'ni J°y°e bitterly. "In future I shall w! only my own name of Heaton." escape?' 8Q'" snid he, making good; Joyce sat on alone in ihe fading ol the winter day. Her head ached, and she 1 hIt utterly weary and depressed. If her position had been lonely before, it was infi- nitely more so now, for her pride made it quite impossible for her to remain in the Manor House to await the return of her cousin Ralph. The question was, where to go to be far enough out of his way. Fortu- nately, she was not lacking in means, as she was in receipt of a small income which had come to her from her mother. She retired early, but not to sleep, for many a weary hour. First one plan passed through her mind, then another, only to be rejected..At length, as the wintry dawn began to break, she came to a final decision, and then fell into a restful sleep. When she awoke the clock on the mantel- piece was striking nine. She rose hastily, feeling refreshed, and, remembering her deci- sion, she felt altogether more hopeful and energetic. She lost no time in carrying out what she had decided to do. Her first move was to write a note to Mr. Wilson, saying- that she would have no further ne^d of the Manor House after the following evening; then, with the help of one of the maids, she spent the whole of the day in gathering to- getfaer.and packing all that belonged to her. She was determined that she would have no eo-ramuuieation with anyone at the Manor House until at least a year had elapsed. Mr. Wilson arrived as she was closing her last large box. Her interview with him was short, for he had come with the kindly intention of persuading her to stay a few weeks at the Manor House, and to at least meet her cousnn Ralph. "No harm can possibly be done by taking this- cour," he argued, "and then you will fee free to go away as soon as you wish." "ISto thank you/' said Joyce firmly. "You are very kind and thoughtful, and 1 an qmte appreciate all that you say, but from my standpoint what you wish is quite impos- sible. I have made up my mind." The following morning she left in a cab piled high with luggage, and in two hours* time was in London. Arrived there she directed her cabman to drive to the Langham Hotel. There she found storage for her need- less boxes, and stayed until the following day, having a few hours free to transact busi- ness in town. Next day at noon she was on board a. Channel steamer. The day was fine, but the water none too smooth. She chose, however, to remain on deck. With her thick travelling rug about her knees, and a covering of sailors' oilskins over it, she was fairly protected from wind and weather, and enjoyed the crossing, for she was a good sailor. There were only three or four othBr ladies on deck besides herself, but a fair number of men passengers. As she lay back in her deck-chair, she wdehed them idly as they promenaded the deck in front of her. At length her eyes became attracted by a tall fair man in a large overcoat, who passed from time to time. She was puzzled to know why his face was more interesting than the faces of the other men who went by. He was not strikingly handsome, but his style and bearing were good. The face was firm, and purposeful—the mouth and jaw showing much decision of character. Joyce found herself wondering how he would look when he spoke, and was amused shortly afterwards, when the boat, having by a sudden lurch slightly upset his balance, sending him with some force against a lady's chair, to see him pause to apologise, half smiling as lie moved away. It was almost momentary, but she had caught a glimpse of his,white, even teeth and the light in his clear grey eyes. Soon all was bustle, for the boat neared Calais, and Joyce, bag in hand, was waiting in the crowd of' passengers, eager to be on land. After a short delay at the Custom House, she made her way to the Paris train, and was soon speeding away towards the capital. The other seats of the compartment she occupied were filled by a French family returning home. Of the English people she had noticed on the steamer she saw no more. The chatter in the carriage was such that she gave up her attempt at reading, and leaning" back in her corner gave herself up to thought. She seemed to have now a breathing space after the rush of the last twenty-four hours. Once her decision had been taken, she had given way to no further doubt in the matter, but had set to work as quickly as possible to carry out the plans she had made. She was now on her way to the South of France to pay a long-promised visit to an old school friend who had settled there. Afterwards it was her intention to go further South, and probably spend the winter in Italy. She had taken care to leave her address with her banker only, giving him at the same time strict instructions that it was absolutely for his own use, and was to be given to nobody. She was glad to think that the Channel now flowed between herself and England, but$he felt almost as if she were in a dream, so rapidly had event followed event during the last week. It seemed hardly possible that the regular routine of her life had been going on as usual only seven short days ago, and that now her life was altered for ever. About her future she felt eo much uncertainty that she determined not to look ahead more than she could help, but to live fully in the present. She could not help feeling an inward excitement, which was partly pleasurable, for she was young and tasting freedom for the first time, and there is room for imagination when all life lies be- fore one. After a night's rest in Paris, the following morning saw her again upon her journey. She took her seat in a first-class carriage at the Gare de Lyons. She paid the porter who brought in her luggage, and taking up an (y English news-paper which she had bought, began to read. She was completely hidden behind the paper when heard the door, open, and looking up great was her surprise 1 when she saw the tall, fair man she had noticed when crossing the Channel. As he entered the carriage he hardly appeared to notice that a lady occupied the further seat, but later, when their eyes met, she somehow felt that he recognised her as she did him. The official on the platform blew the little horn, and the train glided out of the station. It was a cool, crisp morning, with sunshine and a bright blue sky, and Joyce was inter- ested in the country as the train sped on its way. She had turned-to Took out of the win- dow, and her companion was apparently en- grossed in his book. From time to time, un- known to her, he raised his eyes and looked at her, thinking how sweet a picture she made in the morning sunlight. She was, of course, wearing a black gown, but her furs, which included a fur traveHing hat. made her look less sombre than she would cther- wise have done. Her pretty, curling hair refused to be entirely confined beneath the hat, and rested softly upon the clear, white brow. They bad travelled thus for some length of time, the silence only broken by the entrance of the ticket collector and luncheon car man. As it drew towards noon they- were passing tjbroagh a lovely and picturesque stretch cf country, Joyce was. observing with pleasure, how hi etroug light the deep 'red showed vR the trunks of some pine trees a,t a short distance from the railway line. Suddenly she felt the train shake, then again more volently, and finally she was Fung across the compartment, coming in contact with the frame of the opposite window. After this she remembered no more for some time. When at length she came to herself, she was lying upon the seat with her head resting upon a pile of rugs, and her fellow traveller was bending over her in much anxiety. "Thank God," she heard him murmur fervently. "Where am I, and what is the matter?" she asked, looking hastily round the upset- carriage. "There lias been an accident," he replied quietly, "but you are quite safe now. The train is at a standstill. W-li^re, are you hurt?" he asked anxiously.. "I don't believe I am hurt at all," she said, trying to rise. "I think I am more frightened than hurt, but I do feel a bit "shaken," she admitted, as she rose trem- blinglv. She would have fallen, for her head swain giddily, had he not caught her and put her gently back upon the cushions. "I think you had better lie still a few minutes, whilst I go and see what is to be done," he said. "If you do not mind being left alone for a short time. I will return al- most immediately." "I hope you are not hurt yourself?" she asked, as he opened the carriage door. "No, thank you. I seem to have escaped wonderfully." He climbed down the steps at the end of the corridor, and found himself in the midst of a small crowd of people, all talking at once.. By patient questioning and observation, he at length gathered the facts he wanted. The engine had, from some un- known cause, jumped the rails, dragging after it the first three carriages. The first carriage was, fortunately, empty, or the ac- cident would have had much more serious results. Ths passengers occupying the second and third coaches were more or less shaken and bruised. There were no lives lost, nor any very terrible injuries. There was much confusion, but he learnt enough to enable him to realise that it was quite; im- possible for the train to proceed upon its journey. It was also completely blocking the line. Carrying this information, he returned to Joyce, whom he found better, but looking extremely white, and waiting anxiously for news. "I hope you are feeling a little better," he said gently. he said gently. "I shall be quite well directly," she said, with a rather sickly smile., He found a flask in his bag and made her take some sips of brandy then he helped her out of the carriage. "Yon must take my arm," he said, as" they walked along the side of the disabled train. "You are trembling from head to foot. "Thank you, I can manage quite nicely," she said; but he, seeing that she could hardly walk alone, drew' her arm within his own without more ado, and walked quietly with her to a resting-place. The accident having happened some miles from a station, there was much delay before another train was brought down the line, and even when it did arrive the transference of all luggage, etc., from the disabled one to it took so much time that it was between two and three feowrs before they left the scene of the acci- dent. Joyce and her travelling companion spent this time together. To pass through a common peril is perhaps one of the best ways of becoming friends. Certain it was in this case that these two, who had begum the unknown to each uiner, now no longer, Salt that they were strangers. Ac last they were er2, feeling that even a railway accident may have compensations otknr than of a monetary kind. What a plea- sant time they had spent, in spite of the un- f. t.-aate beginning! Both were sorry when • » than three hours late, the train drew up at a small station, some ten miles from the coast, which proved to be Joyce's destina- tion. "May I come'back and see you again?" he said, as he helped her out of the train, but she evaded his question, and answered: "I shall never forget all your kindness to- day." Then she was claimed by her anxi- ously waiting friends, and he stepped back into the train, and was carried out into the night. He smiled to himself as lie drew a note-book from his pocicet, and carefully wrote out the address which he had learnt from the label on her bag. Joyce tried to feel interested m what was being said to her, but she found her mind wandering considerably from the present, and returning to the events of the day. It suddenly struck her as amusing, ,Piat she had never learnt the name of her travelling com- panion. Ten days had elapsed, and Joyce, who had now become, for the time being, one of Madame Dufont's family circle, was sitting alone, late one afternoon, in the little salon. Her friends were out visiting in the town and she had spent the time of their absence in reading. The light at last becoming dim, she threw aside her book and went over and drew the logs of the fre together. She loved to see the flickering firelight play upon the walls of I the pretty artistic room. The short winter day was closing in quickly. The sun had set, and only the after-glow remained in the sky. She drew a chair closer to the burning logs, and leaned back idly dreaming. Sud- denly the door opened, and the maid an- nounced "A gentleman to see you, Mademoiselle." Joyce's heart beat qnicklyrnore quickly than she liked to own, for she knew whom to expect. In a moment he was in the room, and the door was shut upon him. He came over to where she was sitting, and at ner I bidding took the chair opposite her own ) They talked for a few minutes of generali- j ties, and then, after a pause, he leaned to- wards her. "Did you expect me to return?" he said rather anxiously. "I thought you might like to know whether I had suffered from the accident," she said demurely, looking into the fire. "In that case you must have thought my inquiries somewhat tardy," he returned. "I suppose it is ten days since we met," she said, "but times flies so quickly with me." "Ten days," he said, becoming suddenly earnest. "It has seemed an age to me. I had fully meant returning to call upon you the day after I left you, but when I reached my destination I found important letters await- ing me wdiich necessitated my returning to England at once. I believe I mentioned to you on our well-remembered journey that I had just returned from America. I did not think it necessary at the time to call in town, being anxious for certain reasons to get down to Nice as early as possible. I therefore sent instructions that all letters should be for- warded to my hotel at Nice. One of them proved to be of so serious a nature as to re- quire my immediate presence in England—• hence my delay. But all this can wait," he nrat on eagerly. "I have come here of set I I purpose, Miss Heafon, to fcell you, m spne or ] our short knowledge of each other, that I j love you dearly. Is it possible that in time | you can return my affection?" Joyce smiled up into his face, f^r during f the ten days he had been away she had | looked deeply into her c-u heart, and she knew that she loved him t to. I believe I might p<*s > suuec-od, if I tried very hard for a long she said 1 archly. "Oh my darling, what joy!" he ;1:id, com- ing towards her, and taking both lit1 nands in his own. "But say that you will be my wife." I am afraid I love you too much to reiuse you even that," she said, shyly. "And now, said lie, taking her into his arms, "do you know you have never asked my name." "Well, I suppose you must possess one," she said mischievously. "Most p-n pie do." "Mine is rather an Ttnconinw'H he said slowly. "It is Ralph And he held her more tightly in his arms.

SUMMER STORMS. MANY ACCIDENTS BY LIGHTNING. After a general spell of excessive heat, thun. derstorms broke over many parts of the country on Tuesday, accompanied by destructive light- ning. At Spalding two boys, Albert Bennett, aged 0 sixteen, and another lad named Cooper, aged ten, were struck by lightning and had a miraculous escape. Cooper was flung forward on his knees, and Bennett was lifted off his feet and thrown on to the grass by the side of the road. Save for the shock, both lads were uninjured. At West Hartlepool a girl named Kate Gallagher, aged eighteen, was standing at the doorway of her parents' house when she was struck by lightning and rendered unconscious. When she recovered her senses she complained that she was blind. %She was medically treated and her blindness, fortunately, proved to be enly of a temporary character. Two miners named Baxter, father and son, living at Newhall, Burtoti-on-Trent, were shel- tering from a thunderstorm when they were struck by lightning, i 1 ch/lbin^- was pierced as though by bullets 11 m hair singed off, and both rendered uncoiiis"1 At Ilkeston threg: > • sheltering under trees were killed. A m ri l. who was riding a bicycle had his machine struck, several spokes being knocked out of the wheels.

"LOOKING FOR WORK. As the tug Pioneer was entering the Humb^r an open boat was sighted, in which was an old J man without oars or -sail and rapidly drifting; seawards. When overtake 11 bv the fLo,, i d Lsized where he was going, ¡ he i t i Jhe boat vaguely replied that lic, o tor work. tug, took th •> n r< aching Grimsby handed the r.ms o » me po:ice. j He proved to 1 e c s r. nairrd j Martin Munsen. lie Lad iafccu tin- boat from ■ •its reeori; in Ih-o old harbour .at Hull and had j drifted fully twenty miles in it on the receding tide. On Monday he vas at the local police-court for the state of his snind to be in- quired into. |

=_= j TRAGEDY OF A SLAG HILL. i The Gartsherrb slag lull, nrar Coatbridge, has recently, owing to the hot weaiher, b< on utilised by an army of vagrants as a sleeping, place. Two men, named Robert Wo<herswood and Patrick Burns, went there on Saturday night,, and early on Sunday .morning a train, coast- ing of wagons fiVcd with hot slag, was taken there to be tipped. Burns was awakened by a rumbling sound, and just managed to escape before a huge j v i boulder, weighing over two*tons, rolled over the place where he had been sleeping. The other man was buried amongst 'the semi-molten debris. a | An alarm was raised, but when the workmen reached the spot Wot herswood was dead, having been crushed and burned in a terrible manner.

MOTORIST'S NOlEL DEFENCE. At Feltham on Monday, George Dumet, of I Holland Park, London, was charged with ex- ceeding the twenty-miles speed limit when driv- iiig a motor-car. Counsel raised a novel point when he sub- mitted that the force of the wind, if blowing the same way as the car was going, might possibly accelerate the speed as much as ten miles an hour. The chairman, in fining the defendant < £ 5, said it was impossible for the Bench to draw a distinction between speed caused by the wind and speed caused by the engine. The fact re- mained that in this case the speed was twenty- seven miles an hour.

KILLED BY A FOWL. An inquest was held at Bournemouth on Mon- day on John Thomas Janeat,- aged fifty, a coachman employed at Orchid House, Marnhull, Dorset,who died at Bournemouth Hospital. Ella Mary Janes stated that her father told her he had "pain in the thigh, the result of his having been attacked by a cock fowl, which had spurred him whilst he was walking through an orchard at Marnhull. The medical evidence went to show that lockjaw set in owing to the deceased having left a spur in his leg. A verdict in accordance with the medical evidence was re- turned.

The Committee of the Womon'-s Anti-Snffra- gist League in their first annual report con- gratulate the League .in having so far achieved its object by giving a distinct check to the Women's Suffrage movement. "There is every indication," "says the report, that the public is becoming uninterested in the Suffragists."

M Cioey THE NATIONAL LOIN S 0 C I E T Y Is enpragsly establishes ::mÓ cred puifnwn to Act of jPadispot t h hat** adhlQ&5 without Loan Office t if to an (Mala or t < l ire *s X5 TO £ 1,000. ON 8IJKM.1! WBnTEB f BOMIgE TO BIPPA-1 for any immediate to Start in furnish your Bougie, t'o pay Kent or liattrb. or its private a»e. The advance can be mid bspk by eafcy iu;m.eut,. or e@n remain out notn otie to fiv. year#'by the interest only. Bavifcg fc iNrgt eapital ready for investment, 'ft.. CftJi lead qnicitly amd cnejsply. Diptlice. so objcpt. InuMM and Repayments fowset in KcglaEd or fain, Tht money fe advanced at appficant/H rmi) bonse if re qnired, thus sasrjng khM the tannics 4 upieit of a joarcey, tritt privacy and str- el Pon" 4,iikht otworc dealings pittantrOA It will cost you JJ, it wiH save 7cm by applying either ptrumaity or by letter for our Tree Prospectus to the Rational Loan Society, 19 QUEEN ST., WREXHAM. Head OlfAr!e Corporation St., Manoh-estttr Cannot be Beaten THE g 'NEPTUNE' P-f Fountain Pens Ezj and j 'BRITISH' o Stylo 3'ens. Absolutely Reliable* Best British Make, £ Zj prices FROM 1/6 up to 10/6 jZ3 14 Carat Gold Nibs. ..r. Q;) We stock them. Call see one. E-t R. Mills & S ow HERALD OFFICE, RHOS. Good ManiXlfe 2,6d per tooo, R. Mills & Sone, Herald Office <( LOCAL PICTURE POST CARDS, A splendid Selection oi Rho's & District Picture Post Cards can be seen at the Herald Office, Rhos. T-'M; SALE.—st k of SLEESHTnS. ard 1? "S, I tor ir.-roed; <,• araaee.— Apply, Muvj.ie .tod IwmFTOuiiHa. OLD METALS of erery degeriptio* ^archMed fnroub — H. B. Baiwam> tt So KM, 144, laaatWalk, London. mOBACCOSl CIQiiB.81 CIGfASETTES1 M Ktwy kaowa Brand at own L at PrtCM. BndleM variety at Tobac«oiiiot.»' I*uey OOCHI* aa<i SbM Pitting*. The trade only »npplit > Opening orders ■ Sociality, ftand tar Price List to »n* *f «ur Branch" or in to*mtott & Oolr, Ltd., CflayoaSt Birmingham. J:TC:a:EN" PESTS BLACKBB7-TI.es aeieiitafieally 1 Extar.nnated by the uretos COCKROACH PA3TL PASTE. Cleared SV;Si«ld 'Workhouse. ■J' All oth«r preparations failed. POST FlnE, 1/3, 2/3, 4/8. JP HFWIfT l>iTision Street. r. ncwilli, T SMEFFlELDi Full P&riicvlars how the Beetle Plague w wits exUrm nnted at GIVEN AIM aiuI powders had tt-ie, .J. Aw ¥—MW;TT, i St. WA.STB1), Vnii'.nn. ee& N^il'-work.* h .imvr • Mpf bro<*»deg.Norn^n M.u't. jim ih,<. *Hi

Mrs. Bird, t)t who was senoiisij injured in London in a naotor-dmnibus accident, was awarded £ 860 damages in the Law Courts against the Great Ertsteirii M-otor-Omnibus Com- pany Mr. Asquith stateci in the Commons that it was considered inadvisable at present to pro- pose legislation requiring that all passenge? steamers should be fitted TJrith wireless appa* ratus.