The Rhos Herald

SUMMER STORMS. MANY ACCIDENTS BY LIGHTNING. After a general spell of excessive heat, th-an. derstorms orpke over many parts of t he country on Tuesday, 'accompanied by dcsh uctive"light- ning. At, Spaldi-ijgytwo boys, Albert Bennett, aged sixteen, and axfother lad named Cooper, aged tea, were st-rtick by"lighÍ'lIing and had a*nliracuioua escape. Cooper was flung forward on his knees, and Bennett was lifted off his feet and thrown on to the gras by the side of the road. Save for the shock, bo-h lads were uninjured. At West Hartlepool a girl n'amcd Kate Gallagher, aged eighteen, was standing at the doorway of her parents' house when she was struck by lightning and rendered unconscious. Wrhen she recovered her senses she complained that she was blind. She was medically treated and her blindness, fortunately, proved to be only of a temporary character. Two miners named .Baxter, father and son, living at Newhall, Bn^tou-on-Trent, were shei- tering from a thunderstorm when they were struck by lightning. Xittk- clothing was pierced as though by bnllets, 4 heir luur .si"d oil, and both rendered an eon scion's. At IVkes^on !h.eee beasls sheltering under trees were killed. A .mil km an who was riding a bicycle had his ;eaohir,e struck, several spokea being knwked out of the wheels.

LOOKING F1 \H WOi* K." As the tnig "Prion eer wrs atenifg 1h:HIl"1\r an open boa't was *a which as an'old man without oars or anil and i-i pidly drift in jf seacards; When overtaken by tl r 1 id d where vaguely, replied that h" > b > /vtvk. r! h lig took <he On. o..j* re h eg Grimsby handed ihe ,1 ov.»- o the j.o'v- l::1 proved to be a >>or-- ■' j:1 ;.¡.]r: d from j;" rn"<)l'ju"' in 1he oid ;,nur ;1 ltr'],md ]nd drifted fully twenty avis en ill j1,\1¡ "¡I receding tide. On Monday li •, wns !-e-in;»?uT d ']!•> k^cal police-court tor the at a to nr. Ii'-i. ins i be in- quired into.

[ALL EIGHTS RDERV¡).] George Delamerr's Will BY SHIELEY BAYNAED, Author of A Wife's Temptation," Under the Holly," ■" Aa interrupted Tour," &c. George Delamere was dead. The news passed from one to another, and by night the whole of the ill i bit ants of the little country town of C -t nford had heard it, and the farmers, v, "ad attended the market there, had carried ii, a vine* It would be almost safe to say that dead'man was mentioned in every house w; 'ain a radlM of ten miles, for he had been an eccentric and a topic of con- versationfor IBUU-V a long year. Carnford Manor HouiM stwcd some fifty yards back from the high road, on. slightly rising ground, a comfortable well built house, with no pretension* to architectural beauty, its front during the leafless season bare to the passers fey. 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 drava blinds, could be seen by everyone. The iew reuHiin.jig leaves fell silently from the trees, and the iMiii dripped drearily from their bare branches. The farmers driving paat on their return from market glaneed ujp at the dark- ened windows, and instinctively. sfeiddereu. Some of them muttered to theawebes—Poor Miss .Joyce." Inside' the house,' rite Jostle and commo- tion of early moriimg had died down to a »elanc)ioly silence—an vitaat-iiral mlence. Doctors, lawyer*, and undertakers had all been, had had their my and departed, and at last Joyce Heaton, or Delamere, as she had been called from a child, was left alone. htio flat 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 cow Id not remember H 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- --uuicea towards affection. Shut up witlun himself, lidMhacl liwed for yews working out scientific and practically dead to all human interests- surrounding him. c¿0YC.e had tried to do all'thai a daughter should do for the old mail's comfort, but she had found I years ago that to try $0 draw affection from him was useless, t Now ha was dead, ^and strange feelings .erf pity, remorse, axfdj loneli- ness were bleiiUed in her breast; pity for Sie poor old man who had lived his life devoid of all affection, and remorse: wat she bad net leved him in spite OJ himself. She £ o«*-g»t that- lova was never ye-i subject to rile will. Absolutely alone in the world, she felt 'de- solate and miserable, and incapable of mak- ing plans for the future. Circumstances, fey W ever. often do fw as what we are incap- able of doing for ourse-Jves, and 30 it was to be with Joyce. I Thursday, the day fixed! for the funeral, arrived, and with it .-several of lir, Dela- e(A ware's distant relative:?, whom Joyce hud never before seen. They followed all that remained of George Delamere to its last rest- irig place in Carnford Churchyard, and then returned to th 1 Manor House to hear how he had disposed of his substantia.. It was with some impatience -they waited in the large dining-room for Mr. Wilton, the old solicitor, itc, take his scat at the table, and draw from a lony em elope the lat will and testament of <, ors<«» i Carnford Manor, in -Hi*' wnn.tj of Surrey. He spread the docum nt nit upon iiie tabic, aud read it in a clear uuernntioit.il Noire. i'u*«t came be- cjuests to ser vim Is. then several bequests to neighbouring charities, and then the testator directed that all his remaining property,- in- cluding Carnford Manor,, should be Ireld in trust for one year from the date of his death, and then handed «* < r jointly to bis only son Ralph Delamere, and ids niece Joyce Heaton. or oil condition that they married each other within the said year. In case this condition w,u. 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 Honse for a year if she chose to live in it. j The distant relative* looked at each other •qnestioningly. "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 mv posp**ion," returned Mr. Wilson, calmly. "j .happen, £ 00, to have been present at my late -oik-mi's -marriage exactly thirty six years ago. There was one son of this1 marriage, whose ng& is now thirty-five." Joyce, to whom f he knowledge of her uncle's marriage came with as niueu of a surprise as to the rest of liis relatives, remained quietly seated until the general talk liad gradually become silenced. One by one the guests made their excuses and departed, until at length Joyce found herielf alone with the solicitor, and then her anger broke forth. "How could my itnelo, put sucli a provision in his will," "hü said, going oYer) where Mr. Wilson sat." "To think it possible that man and wpman who. until now, baie never heard of each other's existence should strike such a bargain for it could mean nothing less "It is, I must confess, a somewhat &trange provision," returned flu: lawyer drily. "At present we have no knowledge a* to the whereabouts of your cousin Salph Delamere. He has been a rather extensive traveller. chielv on Government ,business, I believe. and is now out of England. A letter which has been sent to his solicitor will reach him, no doubt, in due time." "I shall leave here within a week," said Joyce firmly. "1 have no wish to he in the bouse when my cousin returns. In fact, I do not wish to even see him." "Let me beg of you to dp nothing in haste, jny dear young fady. Think quietly over the matter, before takim; any step which you may regret. "J cannot see that I can possibly regret keeping out of my cousin's way until the year is safely over. After that it cannot matter whether we meft or not." "You will bear ifj mind. Miss Delamere, that vour refusal i with the provi- sion of your nncfc's wiH will deprive your cousin, as well a* xoursclf, of his inherit- ance." "That is the biuer »-t part of all," re- turned.Joyce sadly. "But it if none of my doing. My uncle must have been mad-, 4juiic mad." "I will bid you good day, Miss Delamere," said Mr. Wilson after a pause, taking up his hat. "Please do not call me Delamere any more," said Joyce bitterly. In future I shall use only my own name of I l ea ton. "Just so, just so," -said he, making good Jbis Icape Joyce sat on alone in the fading tight of iiie, winter day. Her head ached, and she leM utterly weary and depressed. If her uositieh had been lonely before, it was infi- I nitely more so now, for her pride made it a i t,(- impossible for her to remain in the > Manor House to await the return of her cousin Ralph. The quest-ion was, where to go to foe far enough out of his way. Fortu- nately, she was not lacking in means, as she I was in receipt of a small ineome which bad come to her from her mother. She retired early,, but not to sleep, 'for manf* a weary hour. First one pla.n 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 I thai she would have no further De-d of the I' Manor House after the following evening; then, with the help of one of the maidi, Ae spent the whole of the day in gathering to- fether and packing all that belonged to her. he was determined that she would have no eomimunication with anyone at the Manor House until at least a yea-r had elapsed. Air. Wilson arrived as she was closing her last iantge box. Her interview with him was short, for he had come with the kindly intention oj persuading her to stay a few weeks at the ar. xr House, and to at least meet her sousi-H Ralph. harm can possibly be done by taking this etwirse," he arg-Aed. "and then you wifl he free to go away as soon as you wish." wJvo thank you." said Joyce firmly. You are very kind and thoughtful, and 1 can quite 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. j The day was fine, but the water none too siJiooth, She clwse, however, to remain on deck. With her thick travelling rug about her knees, jWid a cove-ring of sailors' oilskins over it, shti was fairly proUcted from wind and wjeather, and enjoyed* The crossing,'for she was a g#od sailor. There were only-three she was a geoti sailor. Thare were only-three or four other lathes on deck besides herself, but a*fair number of men passengers. As oho by back in her deck-chair, she watched them idlv as they promenaded tite deck In front of her. At length her eyes became attracted by 1 a tall fair man r k» 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 he moved away. It was almost momentary, but she had caught a glimpse of his white, even teeth and the light in his ck«u* 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 j capital. The other seats of the compartment j she occupied were filled by a French family < returning home. Of the English people she had noticed on the steamer she saw 110 more, j The chatter in the carriage was such that she gave up her attempt at reading, and j leaning bllck in her corner gave herself up I to thought. She seemed to have now a breathing space after the rush of the last. J 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 j quickly aa 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 hanker only, giving him j at the same time strict instructions that it j 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 she felt almost as if she were in a dream, so rapidly had event followed eVtHlt. during the last week. It seemed hardly possible that the regular routine of her life had been going on as usual ouly seven short dayis ago, and that now her life was altered for ever. About her future she felt so much j 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 ons. After a night's reftt in Paris, the following morning saw her again upou her journey. She took her seat in a first-class carriage at the Gare de Lyons. Site paid the porter, who brought in her luggage, and taking up an English newspaper which she had, bought, began to read. She was completely hidden behind the paper when she heard the door open, and looking up great was her surprise 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 ladv occupied the further seat, but later, whan 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, bad turned to look out of the win- dow, and her companion was apparently en- grossed ift ).)is 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 eotiree, wearing a black gown, but her furs, which included a fur travelling hat, made her look less sombre than she \YOU Jd other- wise have done. Her pretty, curling hair refused to be entirely confined beneath the hat, and rested softly upon the clear, wltite-, brow. They had 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 Jhey were passing through a lovely and picturesque stretch of country. Joyce was observing with pleasure low iu the itrong light the deep red showed twit the trunks of some pine trees at a short distance from the railway line. Suddenly she felt the train shake, then again more volently, and finally she was flung across tha compartment, coming in cantact" with the frame of the opposite window. After this she i remembered no more for some time. When at length she came, t4 she was Ivinsj upon the seat with. her head resting upon a pile of rugs, and her fellow traveller was bending over her in much anxiety. "Thauk God," she heard hi-m murmur fervently. uWhere am T, and what is the matter?" she asked, looking hastily round the upset carriage. "There has been an accident," he replied quietly, "but' you are quite safe now. The train is at a standstill. Where ax*e you hurt?" he asked anxiously. "I don't beiieve I am < hurt at all," she safid, trying to rise. "I think I am more frightened than hurt, but I do feel a bit shaken," she admitted, as she rose trem- blingly. She would have fallen, for her head swam 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 af: most immediately. "T hope you are not hurt, yourself?" she asked, as lie opened the carriage door. "No, thank you. 1 seem to have escaped j woaderfully." Me elkrtbed d^v/n the. steps at the end of 1114 oorridor, and found hkiiself in the midst of a small "growd of people, all talking at oace. By patient questioning and observation, lie at length gathered the facts he wanted. e-ugine had, from some un- known caiss. jumped the rails, dragging after it tt; first three carriages. The first carriage was, fortunately, empty, or the ae- cident woifd have had much more serious results. The passengers occupying the second and third coaches were more or less shaken and bruised. There were no 1-ives lost, nor any very terrible injuries. There was much contusion, 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 Ho Joyce, whom he found better, but looking extremely white, and waiting anxiously for news. "I hope *you are feeling a little better," he said gcuitly. "I shall be quite well directly," she said, with a Tatkar sickly smile. He found tl flask in his bag and made her 1 take some sips of brandy Mieji lie helped hflt out of the carriage. "You 'nmst*take,my arm," à »»k1. as they walked along the side disabled train. You are trembling from head to fo f ""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 mneh time that it was between two and three hours 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 begun the day unknown to i-ach other, now no longer feH th'W 'Ik'\ v, >!••> >Irangers. At last vvere off, feeling that even a 'railway acridem may have compensation* other than of a monetary kind. What a plea- sant time Uiev had spent, in spite of the un- fortunate beginning! Both were sorry when more 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. 1 i 11 1 see you again?" he. said, IKV <>I 11 oi. the train, but she t "I 1 i 11 your kindness to- day." Theii she s ■» 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 be draw a note-book from his pocket,, and carefully wrote out the address which he had learnt from the label on her bag. Joyce tried to feel interested iu what was being said to her, but she found her mind wandering considerably from the present, anti returning to the. events of the day. It suddenly struck her as amusing, that she had never learnt the name of her travelling com- panion. r Ten davs had elapsed, and Joyce, who had now become, for the tim-e being, one of Madame Dufont's family circle,, wait sitting alone, late one 'afternoon, in the little salon. Her friends were out visiting in the town and she had speut 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 fire together. She loved to se« the flickering firelight play upon the walls of the pretty artistic room. The short winter day was elosiug in quickly. The sun had get, 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 quickly—more quickly than she liked to own, for she knew whom to expect. In a moment he was ill the room, and the door was shut upon him. He came over to where she was sitting, and at ner bidding took the chair opposite her own. They talked for a few minutes of generali- 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 [ 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 if is ten days since we met," the 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 yon, but when I reached my destination I found important letters await- ing me which m-eessii-Hted my returning to England at ojn-f. I believe j. mentioned to you on our well-remem-bered journey that 1 had just returned from America. I did not think it necessary at the time to call" in tow n, being anxious for certain reasons to get down to Nice as early as possible. I therefore sent instructionm that all letters should be for- warded to my hotel at Nice. One of them proved ,to lie of so serious a nature as to re- quire my immediate presence inEnll,ld,- i hence my delay. But all this can wait," ha went on eagerly- "I have come here of set purpose, Miss Heaton, to toll you. iu or our short. knowledge ot « o !c: u •» love you dearly. Is voi.1 can return my aft Joyce smiled up in Us face, for during I the ten days he hod been away she bad I looked deeply into Li< 1 own beart, she knew that sue loved In in only too wv-il. t "1 >,ii ve I might s-i 1 succeed, ir t tried ird f#-r a she archly. Oll illy ing towards hu\ 0 I taking both he 1 his own. "But say that you win be my I wife." "T am afraid I love you too much to rehise ,I you even that," she said, shyly. "And now, said he, taking her in, arms, "do you know you have never I my name." M 1 W e l. I suppose you mtlst possess one, she said mischievously. "Most people 00. "Mine is rather an uncommon one," ha said slowly. "It is Ralph Delamere." And ha held her more tightly in his arms.

TRAGEDY OF A SLAII HILL. The t'Jartsherri'e slag hill, net-tr Coatbridge, has receu'ly, owing to (Jre lwt v.rather, !•< en utilised by an army of vagrants as a sleeping p.! uce. Two men, named Robert Wotherswood and Patrick Burns, went there on Saturday night, and early on Sunday'morning a tram, eons-s ing of wagons filled with hot slag, was taken there to; be tipped. Burns v as awakened by a rumbling sound, and just managed to escape before a huge boulder, weighing- over two tons, rolled over the place where he had been sleeping. "he other inn- was buried amongst the semi-moiien debris. An *hirm was raised, but when the workmen reached the spot. "Wot hers wood was dead. having been crushed and bin ned in a terrible manner.

MOTOUifeT'y NOVEL DEFENCE. At Feltliam on Monday, George Dumet, of Holland Park, London, was charged with ex- ceeding the twenty-miles speed limit when driv- a motor-car. Counsel raised a novel point when he sub- mit fed that the force of the wind, if blowing the tame way a« the car was going, might possibly accelerate the speed as much as ten miles an hour. The chairman, in fining the defendant 15, said it was impossible for the Bench to draw » distinction between speed -canned by the wind and speed caused by engine. The fact re- mained that in tliia case. the speed was twenty- ■e v en miles an hour.

KILLED BY A FOWL. An inquest was held at Bournemouth on Mon- day on John Thomas Janes, 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 ha-ring left a spur in his leg. A verdict in accordance with the medical evidence was re- turned.

-o_ The Committee üJ the Women's Anti-Suffra- gist League in their first annual report con- gratulate the League in having »o far achieved its object by giving a distinct check to the Women's Suffrage 'movemont. "There is every indication," says ifoe report. "fhåt the public is beco»i-ttg in the Suftragisto."

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