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THE POISONED CUP.
( Copyright. ) THE POISONED CUP. By WINIFRED GRAHAM, Author of "The Beautiful Mrs. Leach," "When the Birds Begin to Sing," "A Strange Solution," Oa the Down Grade." &c. SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS: Through the gross caicJessness of a drunken nurse, Dudley Vale loses his wife, a typhoid patient. A second tragedy follows, Dudley Vale flinging the woman, still in a maudlin state, down the steps of his mansion in Portland-place. She is picked up dead, and for this crime Dudley Vale. a rich man-moving in the best society, is sentenced to twenty ye;i- penal servitude. His little daughter 0!i\-e"is .-iilopted by his brother- in-law, Edward Desmond. J,t!óii n>nrs old she dies suddenly when Mr. and Mrs. Desmond are abroad. The same day Desmond, a busy City man, learns that he has lost all his money by the breaking of a bank. lie therefore suggests to his wife that they supl)re!-s the uews;, of Olive's death, and so < i>ntinue to receive the handsome allowance arnii g. ti for by the girl's, father. I%Irs. D(-t-iiloij(-] »••n.-ents. and on the return of the pair to London it is given out that they have left the child on the Continent to be educated. Some years pass, and Mrs. Desmond meets, on the Underground Railway, and takes. a great fancy to, a fair girl named Florence Osborne, who seems to her strangely like what Olive would be at that time had she lived. Desmond now hears that it is probable Dudley Vale will soon be released from prison on account of his health. With a desperate scheme in his mind, he therefore arranges for Florence Osborne, who is poor and has no relations or friends, to' come into the house as Olive Vale, returned" from abroad. CHAPTER IX. M WILL TOUtWALK INTO MY PARLOUlt ? "No, Mrs. Perkins, I must go. I can't stay any longer to be a burden on you. For three weeks now I have paid nothing. You cannot afford to keep such a lodger." There were tears in Florence Osborne's voice M it quavered out this final decision. The pale, transparent face, lit up with determina- tion, might well have suited a pictured martyr, 80 strong, so pure, so long-suffering—the gleam of hope writ big in the blue eyes. "But, dearie, where are you going if I let you turn yourself out in the cold ? When some bit of good luck comes along, you can pay me off right enough meanwhile we won't quarrel about the bill. I can't let you wander away like, a babe in the wood so long as I've got a shelter for my own head. "You are far too kind, .Mrs. Perkins," sighed Plorenoe, "but I've quite made up my mind. If I have to sleep on a doorstep, I mean to go." "It's very well to talk," persisted Mrs. Perkins, "and the sentiments sound all serene, but London 'aint no. fit place for such as you London wasn't invented, as I know, for stray angels to gallivant about in; and, you'ne an angel—that's what you are, mies "Nonsense with a deprecating little,smile. "Who should know better than me? Didn't-If see you nursing your poor dear sister night and, day to the bitter end, spending every penny you'd got on her comfort, and treating w a^ liberal as if you'd been a princess ? I used to. say to myself: The money will never I"t out, at this rate,' for I knew from overhearing you talking together just how much you'd got in the bank. And then the funeral expenses come, that heavy, I regularly trembled for you 1 you what it is, miss, your looks is agin .your getting a situation the womenfolk think you are a deal too pretty, nasty cats If I were yo^ I'd try for a shop; good-looking girls are wanted behind the counter." "A shop," murmured Florence, a, alight shudder running over her. Oh, Mrs. Perkins, I never thought of that! "Well, no, you see you suffer from another disadvantage—you're a lady It's a real pity." Florence felt inclined to agree with her. She found herself envying the well-to-do domestic, and the light-hearted chorus girl whom she frequently observed on the steps of a-famous dancing academy, the opposite side of the raMj.- "There is the stage," she said, aloud; "I iiave not yet tried the stage." "Oh, you'd do for that first-class 1" de- clared Mrs. Perkins, beaming. "You've gotis fine figure and beautiful fair hair, which saves all the expense of dyeing. My niece, witst.t.ook, to the boards, spant eaps and caps of money keeping her hair the right shade of gold. I will say they did it wonderful well ot those West-end shops, and she ended by Marrying quite a rich gentleman, what woulda t know any of us." As Mrs. Perkins announced this praise- worthy fact, the bell pealed loudly. "Now mind," said Florence, if that happen to be anybody to see my roo. are to let from to-day. Your .lodge* Jeavws this afternoon." She spoke resolutely, and no one* hare guessed how her heart sank! Sh* *pent her last farthing, and only the plans filtered through her troubled brain. would borrow a shilling from Mrs. :Wr a cab, and drive with her small box of earthly possessions to the nearest pawnbroker's, j she would, part ;with all her belongingoo-Olla < walk back to pay, Mrs. l'erkinll, atlleast some portion of her debt for the past few«-veolfs,1 Then to 4wait the end, to walk from street tQ. iptreet-on-on-till at last misery and starva- tion must bring eternal rest. Yes,. there,-WM i a way out of every trouble—her father had,4MrOYtd tbatuvSut oioti by fijw hand would she court death—the cruel world should kill her in 4tA qwu)war- I 1 nOb miss, its a gentleman to see yoft! I've shewn him into the best parlour, and lit th? gas-stove. He is keeping a hansom cab waiting at the door, and he's got such a lovely fur .overcoat. Quite nn old gentleman, miss; nothing to say in the way of looks-but he smiled at me that, friendly-like when I dusted a chair for him to sit down on. I feel, sure that good will come of his visit." Indeed, I hope so What name ? Mrs. Perkins held out a card Edward Desmond 1 Who can Edward D. mond bo ? "Best go and find out, miss." Florence's heart beat faster as the neared the door. Through all hei bitter adversity she half never lost her natural grace and charm of manner, the delicate poise of her proud head, the aristocratic bearing, which spoke of gentU birth and careful training. She glided into the room quietly as a shadow, the shabby black dress in no way robbing. her of that prettj dignity, so entirely unassumed. Mr. Desmond started slightly at the vision of her fair young loveliness. Arabella certainly knew an attractive girl when she saw one For 6 11 once he commended Arabella's judgment. "I must introduce myself, "he said, holding out a-welcoming hand, which Florence accepted somewhat timidly. "I am the husband of tha lady you met in the train, the lady you so I' kindly! helped. But for you, I fancy she would hare had a most severe fall." "I did very little," replied Florence. "I hope she was none the worse for the fright." "Oh, no-a bruise or two, nothing more; but my wife's nerves are never very strong she suffers from hysteria. I am a good deal troubled about her at the present time, as she is much alone. I am bound to go to the City, and we have no daughter, so my wife has plenty of kime to.,ait and. fret over imaginary troubles. Sha wsnts-someone .young and, cheerful to keep up her spirits. She is greatly ..attached to a niece, who, unfortunately, cannot be with her -rfamily reasons prevent it; and Mrs. Desmond saw in you a striking likeness to this dear girl. Now she fancies people notice the, absence of <her. relative, Olive Vale; fancies, in her strange, unaccountable way, that it is a slur on her. I must speak plainly, Miss Osborne. My wife is eccentric; the doctors say she must be humoured. Her occasional fits of mental aberration are, nothing to be Alarvaed about it is merely the result of hysteria. She is never guarded, and goes freely into sooiety; but my great love for her makes me anxious to study her every little whiOt.Ever since that chance meeting, she has persistently urged me to bring you to her, that she may pass you off as her niece from abroad,, and call you Olive Vale. I win see no harm myself in the mild imposition, for it matters little enough to anyone; but it jprt&inly seems a weird request to lay before a granger. If you are courteous enough, Miss Osborne, to accept an entirely unknown uncle and aunt, and out of kindness to my wife, to adopt the name of her absent relation, I will offer you a handsome salary, with payment in advance. You will have a comfortable home, a fair amount of society, and an affectionate com- panion in Mrs. Desmond. I do not think you will regret playing this innocent part. I have laid the case openly before you, keeping nothing back; now you must take it or leave it, as Psee-m- best to your own judgment." "Flatvboe-vsa amazed at the generosity of the ioffer ,.which appeared too good to be true, after the awful fate she had pictured for herself. She grew very pink from her forehead to her chin, like a blush rose, while summer smiled from the blue eyes. "Indeed, I shall be only too thankful to accept your very kind proposition. I would cail myself anything or anybody, if it gave Mrs. Desmond pleasure. She spoke so kindly to me f in th. train I. have thought of her ever since. •When would you like me to come ? "Why not settle yonr bill, pack your things, and return with me at once? I have the ijnorning to. myself, for a change, and am quite prepared to wait. You might mention to your landlady that you have gone away with a friend, bat say nothing to her about the unusual circumstances. An outsider, unacquainted rifith the, true facts of tile, case, might think it a little too unconventional. You see, I am taking you on trust. I ask for no refer- ences I understand this is your first situation, that. you. have no relations living, that the past has been a sad one. I remember your father by name, and I offer you my sincere sympathy. You are young to have faced so many inis- fojiioes. I consider your face is the best letter of recommendation. I feel I can place con- fidence in you." Again she thanked him warmly, explaining, with a continuance of the pink rose blush, that -she aotually had not a penny left in the world. "I had told Mr8. Perkins I would leave to-day," .she said, "because I could not go on running into debt." "WeU send her to me with the bill while you hack your clothes," replied Edward, cheerfully, pulling a large letter-case out of his >pocket, which appeared full of bank-notes. Florence-went gladly in search of the kind -frieod -who had sheltered her so long, still feeling it must be all a vivid and wonderful i from which she would shortly w ake. Edward watched her go. and a low, short l?ugh escaped him. fl **If ^°u- only knew," he said, "poor little fly I. Nobody wants you in the world your life is quite superfluous You will be vwy useful to IDe-when you are dead rw .GHAFTER X" KtNJJNESS A MYSTERY, Perkins, was hovering about on the stair- ,Cme waiting Ih,- rt-sult of the interview. sne saw instantly by iiss borne's race, tiia, something unusual had occurred. "Oh, I do 'ope it's all a-going to come right," Mrs. Perkins exclaimed, with a deep- drawn sigh, for the young girl's decision to go out alone into the world filled the older woman's mind with sharp alarm. A very wonderful thing has happened," replied Florence, in answer to the anxious inquiry. "A friend has come to fetch mo away. I can leave with a clear conscience, for lie wants you to take him my bill now at once, that he may settle it before! leave. I can't 1:.11 you how thankful I am, dear Mrs. Perkins. You have been more than kind." "But you are not goiiiz straight off, this very minute? gasped that worthy person, a tritle suspiciously. "Yes, indeed I iin. The hnnsom is waiting; mv small box does not demand a four-wheeler. I am just going to bundle my things in as fast as possible." Miss Osborne ran up the narrow flight of stairs with feet that seemed treading on air. Naturally of an adaptable disposition, she felt like a prisoner released. No longer in debt, no longer tied to the sordid lodging, no longer an object of commiseration in I he eyes of her good- natured landlady. The idea of changing her 11 cl name appealed to Florence Osborne, for her own identity had been 11. stumbling-block ever since the financial downfall and suicide of her un- fortunate father. Mrs. J'erkins stood hesitatingly on the mat at the foot of the stairs, watcliing the fleeting figure till it. vanished from sight'. °"A friend," she said, shaking her head. "A friend come to take that pretty dear away without a moment's warning. A friend, and she didn't even know his I 'Edward Desmond Who can Edward Desmond be ? that's what. she said when 1 shewed her his card not much more 11unvten minutes ago. And now she is going oft with him as lively as a cricket. Well, it s a pity I m that hard of hearing and .the gentleman, hit talked solmv I couldn't catch a syllable through the kev-hole. I always mistrusts them folks as is ashamed to raise their voices. It all looks a bit iishy. But there! I've no right in the dear young soul, except the right of love. it's a lucky job I shall get my money." get Dly So consoling herself with this reflection, Mrs. Perkins resorted to the front parlour and curtseyed low before Mr. Desmond. "I was told, sir, to bring you Miss Osborne's bill, sir. I think you'll find she's been comfort- able here. Her sister what died wonderful easy in the best bedroom upstairs had nothing but good to say of me and my cooking. She never made a single complaint. I just mention it in case you should know of anyone wanting 'igh- class apartments, with home comforts such as you'd find in the best houses. I make bold to offer you one of my cards." "Thanks," murmured Edward Desmond, who had not heard a word of her disquisition; but perceiving the card guessed the purport of the conversation. "1 shall miss her bright face sorely," con- tinued Mrs. Perkins "though Heaven knows she's been sadly tried. I never came across a young lady with so much pluck. I hope you won't think my charges too dear, sir. I've kept the bills down as low as ever I could,- and at times I really thought she would starve herself." ,As Mr. Desmond settled the account. he asked a few short questions in regard to MiasOsborne. Was she physically strong ? Did she run down easily ? What was Mrs. Perkins's opinion as to her constitution and general health ? "My idea is, announced Mrs. Perkins, "that them as looks frail and delicate is the strongest in the long run. Sometimes I'd say to myself when her poor sister was ill: 'Alisr. Florence will go first.' She just seemed as if a breath would blow her away. Yet she never once broke down. Maybe, it was will-power and answers to prayer. Some folks is specially guarded, and it's my belief Providence is takinor extra care of that angel." Edward looked annoyed, and moved abovu, uncomfortably. Cold as it was the atmosphere of. the room stifled him. He begged Mrs. Perkins would turn out the gas-stove. She' gladly obeyed his wish, and backed to the door after his firm but courteous "Do not let me detain you." "That old woman is meddling and inquisi- tive," he told himself. "Those people are dangerous, and should not be enc- ..raged. The girl appears absolutely easy to manage. .Lucky she consented to come a't once, or Mrs. Perkins would have got the whole story out of her." Edward walked up and down the room. never pausing in that restless tramp till ,-j?loran<;e. re-appeared. Again her beauty struck him with .strange, irresistible force. He pictured her lying with lilies in those small white hands, a still and lifeless form nippedini the glorious bud of womanhood, with Dudley kneel- ing at her side. "I give you back your daughter aftar. sixteen years. < Yot may kiss her cold lips but she will not return your. embrace. Olive is dead In recognition of sixteen years' devotion to his motherless child, surely Dudley Vale would treat them generously ? Surely it would be easy to get money out of him in the future ? "I am afraid I have kept you waiting a. long time," said the musical voice which dispelled Edward's reverie. "Oh, no I have been quite happy—think- ing. That is the consolation of a business mind, it always has plenty to thiixk wbotit. Indeed, I was under the impression you were very quick. My wife is most unpunctual, so I'm used to hanging about." "Glad he's married," muttered Mrs. Perkins to herself, as she eyed his unattractive figure. "Good-bye, Mrs. Perkins," said Florence. "I shall never forget your great kiddness. "Pray don't mention it, miss. I'm sure I was always proud and 'appy to do you service. By the way, miss, won't you leave your address in case any letters come ? Or you may have forgotten to pack something in your hurry. 1 1J forward anything I find." Remembering Mr. Desmond's warning, Florence looked to him for guidance. "No, never mind about the address now, ha said, hurrying her down the steps. Miss Osborne can send it to you later." By his tone Mrs. Perkins knew this wat merely an excuse. Intuition told her she at being .parted for ever from the blue eyes whici- looked into hers so kindly. She acoopopanied, the couple across the pavement, apparently 111 order to, hold Miss Osborne's dress fromit'at wheel, but really hoping to hear their- destina- tion. "Take me back to where I came from," Mr. Desmond called up to the man on the bQ?,pd Mrs. Perkins realised her last effort had, jailed.. "I won't be .done," she cried, inwardiy, frantic curiosity burning in her breast as he* tear-dimmed eye alighted on a ragged urchin playing round the area rails. "Look ere, Tommy, "she exclaimed. "If you can hang on behmd that there 'anaotii and come back to tell me where it takes the lady, I'll give you sixpence Yes, I will, for certain. i iommy flew off like an arrow from a bow, Mrs. Perkins watching him excitedly her eyes starting out of her head. He caught the retreat- ing vehicle just as it turned the corneri while Mrs. Perkins smiled cunningly and rubbed her hands. "I hope," said Edward, suavely, "you did not think I behaved too A<quely. But, of course, you must see it w.id never do for letters addressed to Miss Osborne to arrive at my house for Miss Vale. If Arabella is to be humoured the thing must be done thoroughly, and without either tke servants' or our friends' knowledge. I am most anxious that my wife's eccentricity should not be made public. I am entirely in your hands, and I feel convinced you will respect my confidence. You certainly must, not write to Mrs. Perkins while you are under my roof." "No, I quite understand." I thought you would." For the rest of the ride Edward talked chiefly of Arabella, and managed to accustom Florence to her new name and position. "You won't mind calling me Uncje Edward,' and Mrs. Desmond 'Aunt Bella ? As I.juat remarked, the thing must be properly done." He said this in such businesslike tones that it crushedvonv shvnees out of Florence. Her heart gave a bound of pleasure as flie followed him into the cosily-furnished hall, so different to the terrible furniture and decorations which sorely troubled her artistic spirit at the Blooms- bury lodging. "I'll go upstairs and fetch .Arabella," he said. "Will you wait in the drawing-room? lIe ushered her into a luxurious apartment, I smelling sweetly of freshly-purchased flowers. The sun, streaming through the yellow curtains, filled every crevice with golden light. But the sun had as yet no warmth in its rays, though it brought glad tidings of the coming spring. The room was heated by a deep open hearth, in which big logs, supported on quaint metal dogs, burnt cheerily. The stranger moved instinctively nearer the flames as if their merry singing made a companion for these waiting moments. How odd, how mysterious it all seemed, this entry into a new home, this adopting of Olive Vale's name and personality. What were "the family reasons which separated the real Olive from her aunt ? Florence wondered, yet did not really wish to know. She had come to play a part; she was a paid servant, and must obey orders-just like any secretary or governess. Yet it seemed there were no arduous duties attached to the post. Truly, a strange puzzle She felt in fairyland. Only to-day she had decided to wander abroad in the cold, cruel y world—only to-day had felt the possibility of approaching death—from exposure, hunger, weariness! Now death, the dark demon, drifted far away. His ugly visage ceased to haunt her fancy; she saw instead sruiliiig faces. Above—in Arabella's room—a quick inter- change of whispers was taking place. "It is all right"—from Edward. "I worked the oracle splendidly; told her you were eccentric, and wanted (the outcome of a strange whim) to pass her off as your niece from abroad. She tumbled to it at once, for it appears she was at her last gasp, couldn't pay the lodging- house woman "Oh, I'm so glad you were able to help her!" said Arabella, enthusiastically. "But I can't imagine how your plan will benefit us. She may be ready to humour an eccentric woman; she will never deceive a supposed fat her." "Leave that tome; you shall know later. Meanwhile, make everything pleasant for her.. Don't give her a loophole to leave us, or we are lost. So far, you must own I have managed well. It was an awkward proposition to make to an utter stranger, and needed, I assure you, a good deal of tact." "Edward, you are wonderful said Arabella, proudly. She forgave his evil temper, his mean, dis- honest nature, now that she felt lie was saving her, putting out his hand to snatch her from the precipice upon which their feet had wavered for years. She went quickly down to the drawing-room, and pushed the door open softly. The graceful figure of Florence Osborne stood in an attitude of expectation on the wide white hearthrug. The blue eyes studied, with the glance of a con- noisseur, the bronze candelabra upon the mantel, and a fine French Empire timepiece from Dudley's collection. Arabella thought of the countless treasures being housed for the dead child, whose ..representative now stood before her. "My dear Olive," she r exclaimed, half- jestingly, and shewing by her manner she knew the name to be a farce, "welcome to, your aunt's house." The girl felt her face drawn down :gently, to receive an affectionate kiss. "You are a good, sweet creature to come," whispered Arabella. "I am going to try and be quite happy now. I wanted my niece so much, I pined for her; and you are just like' my-little Olive." Florence—henceforth Olive—seated herself by Arabella on the sofa, and soon the two were deep in conversation..Each looked excited and plpated it would lutye- iseen hard to realise they were new acquaintances. Edward glanced in, and smiled at seeing them in such ctoee "confab." "I am off to the City," .ha said. All right, replied Arabella*.olieertuliy. .Hov. relieved t That girl is serv- ing a good turn. Quite a mercy Arabella takes to her. But she must be reminded: the position is. temporary—it would never do if Arabella got really fond of the short-lived Olive Vale." So saying, Edward lit a cigar, and left the house. "I am longing to get you some pretty clothes t declared Arabella. "I have ordered the carriage at three, and we are going out for a Ion,, afternoon's shopping. You see, I want to take you into society-it is so long since I have interested .myself in anyone, and you can't imagine how selfish it has made me. As Olive, you. must ba well dressed." "But supposing," suggested the girl, "people ask me about my ..parents. What am I to say ? "They won't ask. The very fact of.your being my. niece, Olive' Vale, will prevent their ques- tioning you. It is a long story, and very painful to me. Please do not speak of it, my dear." Airs. Desmond became visibly affected, and Olive hastened to change her thoughts into fresh channels. "You are extraordinarily magnetic; you make me feel almost young again I "Arabella f acknowledged, soothed bv the bright influence M'biqh had come into her life > like a dod of spring sunshine. "You are so pretty, you will make quite,a sensation. When you have some really becoming clothes I want you, to get photo- vgraphed. I wonder if you take well." I.,think I do. I can shew you, some photo- graphs of myself before I put my hair up. People used to think, them good. They were taken abroad." A thought struck Arabella. Photographs of ,.Olive-at different stages in her growth I Might these not be useful to-Edward in this mysterious scheme of his ? Undoubtedly he was going to. play some game of spoof on Dudley. I should like to see them very,,much I have hardly any personal belongings left. I—I pawned everything when fmy sister was so ill. But photographs are no, good to anyone, and it was quite by chance ;I did not throw them away as waste paper. I hate all the relics of my childhood now. It was a false Paradise I The quest for clothes proved; highly suc- cessful. Arabella entered heart and, soul intc the undertaking. Both .women-had good taste, only the best shops were patronised, and Olivt grew hourly more bewildered by the magnitude of her good fortune. There seemed no end to the. Desmonds' kind- ness. ISdward, eager to do hig share, purchased a set of .silver,!brushes, combs* and.etceteras— all marked i "Olive "—for her Aressing-table also a writing-case, with the tw^.jiames "Olive Vale inscribed across the corner in ornamental lettering. It was so delightful to feel, happy and at peace after the long struggle of the past, that Olive, yotinig, fresh and innocent, suspected nc evil. She took ;their kindness woqderingly, and: with such pretty gratitude, deep felt, thougi) unostentatiokis,. that Arabella's love for hei increased daily. Edward had no idea of the real affectiot developing in his wife's heart for their tin- suspicions dupe. He believed Ambella to be acting a part, and never looked beneath thi surface. When alone, they spoke little of Olive Vale, for Edward silenced his wife's questions with short, irritable answers that afforded her no information. It surprised her not a little that his affable manner towards Olive had not once wavered. Nothing Olive did was wrong for her benefit he wroathed his faoe with, suave smij.es, adopted a courteous attitude. Knowmg. the man's temper, so frequently affected by atmospheric changes, this long-continued pleasantness .made Arabella almost uneasy. "He looks on that girl as .the one plank between himself and riiin. Will she be strong enough to save us in .the end ? Arabella asked herself this question a hundred times a day. As the date for her "At Home" approached, she grew quite excited at the thought of introducing Olive to. nowr friends. "I always receive.the. first Saturday in the month," she told the gi- "Jfc wil! be delightful having you to help me. I ;.ijiotild like you to Dour out tea. and look after exactly as if ;8 you were tiie daughter .f ii,v, is so long since a pretty girl has graced my drawing- room. Olive shewed great interest, and asked to be allowed to do the flowers that morning. "My dear, there is something else you might do for me of more importance," said Arabella, looking up from a letter she had just received. "I have had a most, tiresome request from that bothering woman, Mrs. Ckinwiiliani-Euste. She organises the soup kitchen which I occasionally attend, and is simply full of philanthropic works—plenty of maney to do them with, and an immense acquaintance. All her friends are oragged in by the heels, whether they wish it or not. the gives charming parties. She made me promise to help her with all sorts of charities at her last ball. She is one of those clever individuals who combine Christian work with the world and the (lesli she is always trying to knit. them together. Well, to-day she has written to beg that I will call on a poor woman loiJe by, in a horrid little street over the way, cabled Fern-lane. The woman's name is Mrs. Homing. Her child has been badly scalded. and is supposed to be dying. I am requested y 11 to call and administer consolation. 1, who would run a mile to avoid the siglit of a, suffer- ing child I can't bear it. I .nice watched by a deathbed, and saw a child p.8S away into the great mystery beyond. It all but broke my heart, for that was a personal loss. The memory is still green. I will not go to Mrs. Heming." Fretful tears welled under Arabella's lashes, and threatened to fall. She pursed up her lips rebelliously. "I will go," replied Olive, .readily; "don't you worry about it, Aunt Bella. You can write and tell Mrs. Clanwilliam-Easte that I went. I daresay she won't mind." "Oh! that would do splendidly, if you have no objection. You can give Mrs. Heming anything she wants. I suppose she'll ask for money. But I don't like sending you on sad errands." Olive dressed quickly. She thought as she donned her stylish coal, with the fur collar how different she looked to the poorly-clad Florence Osborne. "Quite a Lady Bountiful! she told herself, drawing on a pair of delicate suede gloves. "Perhaps. Mrs. Heming would have liked me better in the old things, but Aunt Bella has taken them away; she refuses to let iiie. wear them. again while I am under her wing." "Don't stay too long," said Mrs. Desmond. "All right," replied Olive as she started off to Fern-lane. Arabella watched the daintily-gowned, figure crossing the mud(iy.ro,-id. "If she lOnly, w«jce; £ >Uve inJeali ty, "d thought the guilty ..conscience. What a delightful gift for,Tludle^ after his long term of;sorrow —a daughter beautiful, accomplished, every inch a lady,, with no rough edges like-some motherless children. To be able to hand her over and say: Here is the talent, you gave me, tenfold enhanced.' To watch the joy of reunion and see them go forth into the world together, the strong and the weak—Olive, full of health, like a-staff for her frail, broken-down father to lean upon." This would have been.a fitting ending to the trust. Insteadj. there was, only a tiny grave on foreign soil, and an ugly; record of financial dishonesty with which.to face Dudley. It became a perfect agony to Arabella the contemplation of. the future, her husband's silence and the atmosphere of mystery enshroud- ing their home. Yet, it never entered her head. to fear fpr Olive. No inkling of the true facts entered her mind A crowd of. raggod children, g"ered rouna Olive as she came into Fern-lane. The name struck. her as singularly inappropriate. No ferns or flowers; nothing green, in the narrow street, with its overcrowded houses. "Where does Mrs. Heming. live?" she asked. Three or four dirty hands pointed to an open door. One small figure preceded her and shouted "Mrs. 'Eming" at the top of a shrill voice. A pale-faced woman bade Olive enter, a woman looking strangely stern, as if the hard fight of living had crushed all the softness out of her. "Ire come to inquire. I heard your little child was ill," said Olive, gently, and her ,sympathetic voice had a tremble in its notes. "He's mighty bad, and he suffers sometliink dreadful. He's my only one. I can't believe there is no hope. The neighbours kwp telling nie he's bound to die. I don't answer 'em I can't. If I did, it would only be to bid them hold their lying tongues. The doctor says Billy may pull round. The doctor wouldn't tell me that for nothing. He stayed here most of the, night. Just think of that, miss, stayed here sitting on that little three-legged stool, lookin' after Billy while I slept. 1 had not closed my eyes since the accident, so Dr. Brotherton says: 'Just you go and lie down for a bit; I won't go away till you've had a nap. Sleep as long as you can, Billy will be all right with me. How good of him. And you got a long rest. I expect you needed it badly. "Aye, I did. If it had not. been for that sleep I should be clean off my head. You see, miss, my husband is away on a job, and I don't like to tell him for fear be should come back. He would do no good, and the money is what we want. Dr. Brotherton told me not to worry. He' s wonderfully good to the poor round this neighbourhood never charges folks as is really pinched. Yet be works ever so hard, and has a big-practice amongst the swells. They think a lot of him, I'm told, yet he'd take as much trouble over my little Billy as he would over the King of England. There are not many gentlemen like Dr. Brotherton." i Mrs. Heming's stoRY face, bad entirely altered as. she npQke of the, di)ctorIs kindness. Her hard mouth relaxed, her tired eyes glowed, a flush of .enthusiasm stained her wan cheek, pink. Her admiration and. gratitude seemed to infect Olive, who felt her own pulses quicken. "There are some good people in the world," said th<j gir^, .speaking her thoughts aloud. "I've found that out myself lately." She was alluding to the strange, unexpected kindness shewn her by Arabella and Edward Desmond. Instinctively she longed to tell Mrs. Heming that she, ton, knew the sharp pinch pf poverty,, but prudence kept her silent. tt My I- see Billy ? alie asked. "Oh, for sure. He likpe ladies." "My name is Miss Vale," explained Olive, remembering she had not yet introduced herself, "-and I-have come from Mrs. Desmond, whom yot, have seen at Mrs. danwilliam-Easte's soup kitchen, I believe." ( "I take it very kind that you should come," said Mrs. Heming as she led the way to a small room on their right, where a miserable specimen, of. humanity lay moaning. "He keeps on with that noise night, and day," whispered his mother. "It goes right through me and all but breaks my heart." Olive knelt down and touched one of the small hands on the dirty coverlet. The child turned his bead and a faint smile stole over his face. "That's the first, time I've seen him smile since it 'appened," whispered Mrs. Heming, breathlessly. "Didn't I say 'e liked ladies." A tap on the outer door arrested her attention. "Excuse me a minute, miss, I believe that's the doctor come back. He promised to look in again duripg the morning." Olive waited with the child, who. caught her firmly by her furs, refusing t,o let her go. Sk^ could hear Mrs. Heming talking in the next room and a man's voice giving directions. A singularly attractive voice, she thought, low. earnest, impressive. She pictured the man hard worked, energetic, skilful, sitting hour after hour in this poor bare room while the worn-out mother slept. How many physicians who had "a big practice amongst the swells", (as Heming expressed it), would have given up a night's rest that she might, sleep ? Evidently Mrs. Heming was not popular with her neigh- bours. Dr. Brotherton mutt have divined this, and stepped accordingly into the breach. Possibly last night had been the crisis. A whole medley of ideas flooded Ollvc s mind. She caught" the words "nice young lady" through the open door. Dr. Brotherton wai being prepared tor her presence- "MiBsVale, that's the name. Come from Mrs. Desmond With these words Mrs. Heming reappeared, accompanied by the handsome young doctor, whose faultless attire and military bearing strangely contrasted with what Olive had expected. She unfastened the little clinging fingers of the child and rose somewhat embarrassed. Per- haps she caught the admiring glance which leaped involuntarily to his eyes. Plea.se don't let me drive you away," he said. "I only just looked in for a moment, and Mrs. Heming has been able to give me such a satisfactory account I think I may prophesy Bill, is on the road to recovery." "I ought to go, too," replied Olive. "I pro- mised my aunt I would come back quickly. She sent me to ask what she could do, she was so very sorry to hear about poor Billy." Mrs. Ileuiing made it ea.y for Mrs. Desmond to render assistance by pouring out a string of wants. Olive rose to the occasion, and went thoroughly into the matter as if the part of a district visitor were in no way new to her. She wondered why Dr. Brotherton waited. Surely the dispensing of her aunt's charity could be of no interest to him. "Excuse lIIe," he said, in an undertone, "are you going home alone ? "Yes." "I thought so. Will vou let me accompany you to the end of Fern-lane? There is rather a horrid man lurking about." Mrs. Heming heard the remark. "Yes," she said, "you go with the gentleman, miss. That fellow is so drunk 'e don't know what 'e's doing. Listen, you can hear him singing and r, shouting at the top of his voice." The sound reached Olive and blanched her cheeks. "Thank you," she replied, raising her large blue eyes to Dr. Brotherton with a frightened expression. "Shall we wait a minute ? He may go away. Evelyn Brotherton, conscious of many appoint- ments, nevertheless seemed glad to tarry. It gave him intense pleasure to hear Olive speak, to watch the play of her features and the grace of her movements. She exercised a queer spell over him. He felt enthralled. How marvellously fair she was, like some delicate flower. "I know your aunt," he said. Olive looked pleased. "Oh, I'm so glad." She spoke her thoughts aloud with all innocence. The gentle.sentiment expressed with such un- conscious flattery thrilled him. Why was she glad ? Did not the simple remark augur well for the future ? Already he pictured himself her friend, her lover even. Oh, bold thought 1 He trembled at the magnitude of his ideas. Mrs. Heming, who stood on the doorstep watching the noisy carouser, turned suddenly to Olive: "Oh, I am glad you waited, miss,1 she exclaimed, "for here is my friend, Mrs. Perkins, and I'd like you to see her. She promised to call one morning this week, though it's a long way to come. She's very well-to-do, and lets lodgings to gentlefolks, though last time I seerd her she'd got hold of a wrong 'un what had not paid a farthing for three blessed weeks. But Mrs. Perkins is too good-natured, and she never forgets old friends. She would be swindled out of her last penny and not grumble." ,,01iyq started, turning .suddenly confused. Her eyes followed the direction, indicated by Mrs. i Heming, and there, poundin'g up Fern- lane, came the familiar figure of Florence Osborne's late landlady. "You will let me introdooce you, Miss Vale,* persisted Mrs. Reming, her Toice quivering with pride. Only Evelyn Brotherton saw Olive's pallor, and aauglit the half-smothered What shall I dot" (To bs
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---------------A WITTY ARCHITECT.
A WITTY ARCHITECT. Ail architect wits being examined by counsel, who with. using every effort in bis power to depreciate Urn witness's opinion. "You are a builder, 1 believe?" said the counsel. "No, sir; 1 gm not It builder; I am an architect." All, "ell,huilder or architect, architect or builder: they are pretty much the same, I suppose?" "J beg your pardon, they are totally different." Oh, indeed Pecbape you wd«tl<i«tate wherein, this great difference con- eist.8." Aivarcliitect, airiauiic4vei tliedesigii, ifmisares, the plans, draws out. the apecifica* tioii84 iite'liort, supplies the tniitd. Tl»e bnildex is merely the -machine, the architect, the flower that,,puis ihQ ciachine,.together and sets it going?' Oli,. very wt1, Ur.Ar.I,tect: that will do! A veiy.iii^iieiis cl.ihlipcUou without a difference. Do you happen to was the architect of the Tower .of .Babel ?" ".ifliece W&B up urchitjjct, sir; hence the C0ii{iJtU0n.n AN EXCITING SITUATION IN A RAILROAD l'nAIN. She was « fair young .creature ,of some 18 allitlinerb-move or Jess. She wore n slightly alarmed, lpok end & .brow jjveket at IS and ll-jj, 1)fiC1t., She occupied, owejQoiner of ftjootpptfrttoei^t tail. BuMhq waatiqt aleae. No! A. beetle torowpd rufllw -tat in the farther corner and glowered darkly, u&>ou J#ip4eea girt. lie wore a long black cloak. A "'o,,h bat. And a general air of ipyatery which would have befitted a sausage factory. By the feeble light of the lamp above, his eye* seemed tashimt with a (fculish walicwtj as be acM*« at hi& companion. Or viet im ? Ah! The keiq fVttd on ioto. tfte i WtMt. tt. would stop !M> more ttaitil-antil it reached Loiighboro Junction. What tragedy is this. iv list t..16 of horror are we about to ttuioid ? Header, have patience. The black brownd ruffian looked craftily across at the luckless girl from toneatit liis coal block ln«hes. ]!r eyes lell beneath his piercing gace. Iti'pidly, silently his long, leatnright hand disappeared in the. breast of his cloak. The girl raised her eyes and saw tlie notitoa. Her hair stiff?ueri, her twy heart's Mood seeuaed \.0: freeze wit/hm lw. awi she sat in innte horror gazing at the T-Miam wttfc terror stricken looks. lie was feeling for a colicealed, weapon. There could be up. doubt of it. In. another ikioiiielii, it-ii wawM be over and sli,e a bleed ing corpse upoa tke floor, with this murderer, this madman, gloating over bis hantjiwork. Oh, for the power to think, to pull the-com- munication eordrj.oscream for Che help which nitiet, come too late. The assassin removed liis liand. The light igljnted upon the burnished metal of his pistol. 1J.t! raised it deliberately and— Bit it k, The girl sprang quickly into the air with a single ci-y$L aili(i then sank hack upon the seat. Dead ? No. The man lift '(I only taken out. his brandy flask, and the train had gone over a fog signal. ¡/j
TACTS AND FA-ATCLES.
TACTS AND FA-ATCLES. TOO MANY DRAWERS, Furniture Dealer: Yes, madam, there ii iii nicer present for a man than a handsomi wriillg desk. Look at; thi* one, for example,- Customer: Irs yery prei'.v; but what artf all tl iose square t hings ? i Drawers, madam. That, dfsk has one hutf< dred and sixty separate drawers." "tih And every time he mislays anything IleJl expect nie to iiud it. Show me desli with one drawer." SIr I TOLD THE TRUTH. 5. "How lire JOll getfingoniu, your newp!&CS?* asked a lady of a jtevv girl whom she had recommended for a sit nation, Very well, thank you," replied the gir!, '< 1 am very ghul to hear it," said tlie Ia:M our employer is a very nice lady, and yea cannot do too much for her." I don't mean to, ma'am, was the iliUOCtttf reply. I OX DANGEROUS GROUND, lie grew enthusiastic as he felt the toucli 011 the joy ful season. J il 8igits of stiiiiiiier on every hand," he saidy "All Nature rejoices. There are the birds, au^ the flowers, and the grass, and the trees- "And the shop windows,' she interruptediO her suggestive way. j But lie was 11,111 way devru the steps fcetOfj she could say more. SILENCED. A gentleman, not unknown to fame, had left his corner seat in the already crowded carriage to go in search of buns and milk, or cake and Sherry, leaving a rug to secure liis seat. Oil returning lie found that, in spile of the rug and the protests of his fellow-passengers, the seat was occupied by a person 111 JLejnale attire: To his protestations her lofty reply was "Do you kllow, sir, that. 1 aiu one of tlif director's wives 1 Madam," replied the gentleman," vere you tlie directors only wife, 1 should still protest! That ended it, for the woman kej)t, her se&ij lId likewise her tongue, for the rest of Le< journey, < THE POLES WERE BURIED. John llayseed.was visiting the Metrc-pcUS rof the first time. What do you think of IAoiidon asked lJíi Crty nephew. Well," replied the old man, "ifEo n nsighty hig place, but. it don't seem much lik" a city, 1 hain't seen a telegraph pole in thr. wlolj town." The wires are underground," Undergrotiti(I "Yes—in conduits." Conduits ? What's thei>l "Subterranean passages." Old John was thoughtful. Well," he said, they must be miglity (TCIA to take in them tall poles." HE SILENCED THE SERGEANT. A squad of about sixteen recruits were being drilled at Dublin by a very impatient drilP sergeant. After about an liotir of hard drilling the sergeant gave the order" Stand at ease." j No sooner had the recruits obeyed than tha sergeant begau complaining of the«r attitudes ana wound up by saying: J Why, you fellows are like a lof on dummies; 1 can get smarter soldiers at Shilling a box." Then one of the recruits remarked 1 "I suppose there would be some sergeauifl amongst them." This settled the sergeant for that day, t THE BURDENS OF WEALTH. J A man engaged as a journeyman builder fffl Boltou was recently told by a friend that, oil account of the slackness of work fit his trad during the winter, ha ought to put by a sumj when in full work, in case lie should be throwtl out of work. The man replied "Aw know a chap all oiiee saved about twelve pawnds ogen the frosl cogm, slid tie frost never did coom that winter, au' h& bad all that brass thrown on his hands a EXPLAINED. J A short time ago a manufacturer visited I, timber yard to make arrangements for soma woodwork for his mill. On-entering tl,* gates] be saw some labourers loading a iorry witW timber, and what struck him as being sortoH what peculiar was that cue* man carried large planks whilst another only carried one", j On seeing the timber merchant, lie drew hiflj attention to the circumstances, and as they returned, the merchant called the man tc himcl and said quietly: I How is it, Bob, that Harry is talcing ZWCF planks and you only one ? I lleaw is it ? said Bcb, jerking his tlulsafe over his shoulder towards Harry. 11 Ye inayi know, you moil aHus wur a lazy sori,, atf, don't care much for work. He's uo'cbutjj tekking two to save liissel' trouble c' Lci, o come back for t'other.' WHY SHE.WAS OFVJ;NDED. I I don't think very much of him, said (.1i girl in the dazzling silk dress. < 61 Wliy, 1 thought J. saw him throwing kifileft; to you all the beach," expostulated the girl' in green. I You did. That is why I say I,don't thinlrj much of him. He isn't, a^ strong mentally M 13 should like a man to be.' I don't, quite follow yo\ "Why,flunk of the absurdity and the of energy in throwing from a distance! What ought to have been delivet-ed in person. YH DIDNA KEN JOHN. .A short time ago, in a certain part, of scot4 land, a clergyman who bad not been long iit the place,having occasion to -officiate at tha funeral of cue of his flo k, made in his sermon some touching allusions to the widow ol the |]606&S6d, i On coming out of church, the Ipdy who Iia<T been the object of his compassionate remarks, turning to her pastor, said 41 Tliat, was a grand sermon, Mr. X.; "but what did ye mean when ye said 1 This woman1 stricken wi' grief'? Why, you, of course, Mrs. D." u 011, well, well, of course, ye mean kindly, enough, na doot; but then, iron, ye eee, ye didna ken John." A FAIR PROPOSAL. ■ Advance Agent: "Cm we make a ConlffiCc With you for some date during coming season ? We have the same at traction as last Winter, but some entirely new features aie to be in trod need." Provincial Theatre Manager: "If you'll .agree to put new features on those ballet gn lal of yourt, I'm ready to taik business with ycu. IMPLICITLY. "Jane," said the mistress when that dJorai bell rings I want you to drop everything and ftttevd to it." Fifteen minutes later (liere was an awlu.1 Oraeh of china. Jane had obeyed orders. Fieb Mecohant: "You vant a situations# .? Have yon any experience ? ,&ppiimnt: Yes, sir; for two years I was con- ductor on a tram-car." When a man seems to ]¡rIte a grudge agaiusG niwwters, you oan he sure Imj's married. t Tlie Tragedian: I understand M n¡;r. lias set: to wonk to improve tlie coiict-tionet tiie stage.* The Cbw^diwu 0,1 hadu t heard before tliafc Ire litnl gimi up acting." Mrs. Tewspot: Isn't it odd that the ancoret are always much more enjoyable than file regular numbers on the programmt--V Teøøpot: U Yes, it is. I wonder why they doM't sing the encores Watte: "1 don't, believe women hare IItlf sense of humour lit 1)11," l'> rts: y wife hap. There can't, anything I'll III M the couiuioif but #lie saye why, that's funny."
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