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THE ttPFEK BES MOINES. ALGONA. IOWA. WEDNESDAY, JUNE ]4,1893 A BIG CLEVER TRICK. It was my first circuit hi the employment '.of Hiude & Cooper, wholesale jewelers ana SBlversmttns, of Birmingham. My round was an extensive one— from Stirling, on the edge of the Scottish highlands, to Inverness In the north, i manic the round twice a year, in April and October, traveling with samples and collecting accounts. My turnout consisted of a horse and trap— "machine" they call it hi the North- and 1 made the journey in short stages, and altogeter found the work very pleasant and enjoyable. I was on iny way from Perlih to Edinburgh on my southward journey. My calls were over, with the exception of one or two hi Stirling and. one in Lin lithgow before reaching Edinburgh, my (headquarters. "Can I see Mr. Macgregor?" I asked a shopman as I dreAV up at the door ol on obviously flourishing establishment in the High street of Stirling. "Mr. Macgregor's not in himself Who is It that's asking for him?" "Turner, from Hiiule &. Cooper, Bir ininghain." , I entered the shop. A man, half gen tiernan fanner, half jockey, was stand ing at the counter making some pur chase. An elderly man came forward to address me. "What's come of Nadsinith?" he ask ed. Nadsmith was my predecessor on tii round, but advancing years had rendered his rernowal to a less laborious one expedient. I explained as much to my interrogator. "Mr. Macgregor was anxious to see you himself, 1 know, but he has had to go to Edinburgh. He sold I was to go for young Macgregor if you called before his return." "Oh, very well." Young Mr. Macgregor I made out was a solicitor, whose offices were almost next door. He had, as is not unusual ha Scotland, added to Ms legal duties that of banker manager—local manager for one of the Edinburgh banks. On the entry of young Macgregor, as every one called liiin, we adjourned, to a little room behind Ms shop, separated from it by a glass partition, the View through which was only partially obscured by a number of silver and plated goods arranged on shelves. Our business was soon transacted. Mr. Macgregor handed me a roE of notes of the British Linen Company's bank, some £800 in all, wMoh I counted said, becoming my old friend re- his "No, he has not" 1 Imost as agitated as himself. "Oh, don't say they are British Lin m!" By this time I had my pocket-book jut and handed Mm one of the roll of notes Ms precious son had given me. Macgregor examined it carefully. "It seems all right, I am thankful to _.iy," he remarked. Then holding it between him and the light on the table: Ifs a forger^. The Avaterrnark's wrong!" One by one he examined the roll. The watermark in all was identical, and consequently all were as bad as the first. Again the okl man broke down, and tell you. At last, to my intense lief, pulling Ms pocketbook from pocket, he said: 'Mr. Turner, only you and I know of tho crime my wretched" son has committed. His fate and mine, too, I may say, are hi your hands. Will you give me those for genuine ones? I have them here in my hand. I will send my son out of the country. He richly de^ serves prosecution, but let me beg of you to have pity upon (him, but upon me." I was really thankful to be able to oblige old Macgregor, especially as by doing so I saved myself further trouble in the matter of the forged notes._ A prosecution would mean a loss of time and money, and what would my employers have thought of niy lack of caution? The old gentleman took his leave with every protestation of gratitude, fervently assuring me that he would remember me that night and many a night to come at the throne of grace. I drove into Edinburgh next morning. I left the horse and trap at the livery stable .Naismith had ben in the habit of using and betook myself to a hotel in Princes street. Thence I wrote to my priclpals, inclosing the notes that now seemed doubly precious. I retained one of £10, as I had still a day or two to spend in town before "my re turn to Birmingham. I happened, however, to get through all my business that afternoon, and on tho following morning prepared to leave. I had not left myself much time to catch the tioin, and was chafing in the dining-room at the waiter's delay with the receipted bill and tho change for my £10 note. I was trying to solace myself with the view of the Waverly monument, BT Author of CON-WAT, Called finch" Eta. EM. and found correct. The foreman, who had been attending to the horsy individual I have already referred to, handed me a fresh order an Ms master's handwriting. I was pleased to see it was a large one, and highly satisfied with the business of the day proceeded to my hotel. I had a good dinner and saw just on the point of retiring to niy room when there was a knock at the outer door, and a few moments after the waiter looked in, saying: "A gentleman to see you, sir." "Show the gentleman hi." But he did not • require showing in, for he had followed close at the waiter's heels. He came hastily forward and shook me warmly by the hand. He was an elderly gentleman, wit long, wMte beard and white locks gave him a very venerable appearance. An eldei of the Kirk of Scotland, at least, I said to myself. He was travel-stained and obviously very agitated. "Mr. Turner, I am glad to have been able to meet you," he said. for just hi front of the hotel, When I heard some one enter the room. I knew by the step it was not the waiter, so I did not turn my head. The party .whoever it was, however, come up to me, and toucMug me on the shoulder said; ''Will you be good enough to come tin's way?" "No, I can't; I shall be too late for niy train as it is." "Your train will (have to wait some time." "What do you mean, and who are you?" "Dinna craw so cruse." He meant, "Don't crow so loudly." "It ,mea(ns that I'm a detective, and you must go with me to the police office." It was niseless to resist "Anything you say may be used in evidence against you,"he warned. On our way to the station he told me that my £10* note was a forgery; that others of a similar land had been in circulation, and that suspicion pointed to me as one of the gang uttering them. My southern accent was hi his eyes "YesV" I replied interrogatively, I had no idea who he was. My name is Macgregor—Macgregor, of Stirling. Your principals know me well." ,'•!;• "I assure you I am glad to see you," I replied, now shaking Ms hand hi turn; "your name ds a familiar one hi our house, but," observing his emotion, "1 hope there's nothing wrong?" "I hope not, niy young friend," he replied; "at least nothing but what can be amended, I hope. May I ask if you have sent off the notes you got from my sou today?" "No; I shall wait till I reach Edinburgh," 1 replied. "Thank heaven," he fervently ejaculated and then burst into a loud fit of sobbing, the tears running down his cheeks and over his venerable beard. "Mr. Turner," he said hi a broken voice, and at intervals between his sobs, "you see before you an old man who lias lived for over seventy years a blameless life, respected by everybody, and yet my gray hairs are to be brought down in sorrow to the grave. My son, my sou! Thank God, his poor mother's dead!" I had some difficulty hi prevailing upon the old geutieuiau to try to restrain Ms agitation, and at last managed to get from Mm Ms sad story. It seemed that for some mouths post a largo number of forged notes purporting to be genuine drafts ori the Britsh Linen Company's bank had been in circulation, ami people were somewhat diary about receiving any without the most careful examination. When I heard this, my hand moved instinctively on my breast pocket. "Wait a moment, Mr. Turner," said the old gentleman. "My son, who was as steady and promising a young man as you'd' find hi all LotMans and Stir- lingshire, too, has lately given away to drink and horse racing and gambling. I have been suspectng for some time that Ms money matters wore not hi the best of order, and I don't like the looks of Ms associates, especially at Tryst times." Hero I recalled the individual I had myself gaen in the shop, but had not noticed any communication between Jiiui and young Macgregor. "To make a long story short," re suined the worthy old man, "my foreman apprised me as soon as I got home that my son had duly paid you, but not •with the notes he know I had left for enough to justify any suspicions of me as the notes were importations from, the other side of the border. I told my story to the chief police official, the procurator fiscal, but I could see I was not believed, inquiries would, however, be made at Birmingham and Stirling. The magistrate before whom 1 was brought in the course of the morning remanded me for a week. I did not apply for bail, as 1 kuew no one in Edingurgh except one or two customers of our house, and they Lad only niy word for my identity. On tho fifth day of my incarceration I was told that aonieoue had called to see me. In a waiting-room I found Mr. Hliude, young Mr. Macgregor and an old gentleman whom I did not know. Ho turned out to be the young man's real father, not the venerable swindler of Liulithgow. Mr. Hiude informed me that I had sent him nearly £800 worth of forged notes, and that he had narrowly escaped arrest himself hi seeking to get change for one at Warwick, but fortunately the inquiries from Edinburgh had helped to explain matters. He further told me that two men had been' apprehended in Falldrk, one of whom had sought to pass one of the genuine, notes of wliich I had been swindled, and payment of wMoh had been stopped by young Macgregor. A solicitor was engaged to, appear for me, and I was allowed out on ball, the two Macgregors, who were well known, be coming responsible for my appearance. Two days after I again appeared in tihe dock, and to my great satisfaction there stood in it also the old gentleman whose acquaintance I had made at Linlitiigow and the horsy man I had soon in Maogregor's shop. My venerable friend had dispensed with his beard and wig. They had served their turn. I was discharged from custody and called upon to give evidence. The whole of tho notes had been recovered', a fact which caused me no little gratification. I had been the victim of a gang who 'had come to tho Tryst to get their notes placed, and the conversation overheard in Macgregor's shop by the old man's companion and no doubt t\ho sjg-ht of what took place in the back room- had suggested their scheme, wliich my departure from Llnlithgow had admirably furthered. Along with the other two they were sentenced to H years' servitude each. I left him Bank of Eug- Since then I do not allow sentiment to tihe way o* business. True that purpose-. land optos. If he has paid you hi that money, no harm Li done, but"— (x>me in Flag. CHAPTER XIX. "IT HAS COME 1" At Blacktown, Maurice Hervey did not favor an hotel witli his custom. Perhaps he mistrusted the capabilities possessed by the Blacktown hotels for furnishing him with luxuries such as after so protracted and enforced an abstention he felt to be rightly his due. Perhaps he sighed for the quietude and repose with which one usually associates a private house. After a short search he found a bedroom and a sitting-room, well furnished and commanding extensive views. They were in one of a row of substantial houses which by some freak of fortune had fallen from the high estate of fashionable residenc<- , to the lower level of respectable lodging-nouses. The landlady's quotation, which, after the manner of such quotations, had attached to it a string of extras like the tail to a kite, having been accepted, Mr. Hervey requested that some dinner might be prepared for him. Tliis of course meant chops —an extemporized lodging-house dinner invariably means chops. Having particularly requested that his chops should be broiled, not fried, Mr. Hervey, whilst the cooking was going on, went out, found a wine-merchant's and ordered half-a-dozen of whisky to be at once sent in. The sight of the bottles, the number of which augured well for a long stay, gladdened the landlady's heart. By the aid of the whisky, a kettle of hot water, sugar, and cigars, the new lodger spent a comfortable, if not an intellectual or improving evening. In the morning ho sallied forth. Like every visitor to tho old city who ha: time to spare ho seemed bent upon seeing thenatural beauties of the suburbs of Blacktown. His landlady, who thought him a nice, pleasant, free-spoken gentleman, gave him an oral list of the stock sights in the vicinity; but as soon as lie was out of doors Mr. Hervey hi- quired the way to Oakbury, and learnt that an easy walk of about two miles would take him to that highly favored spot The weather although fine was cold, so he decided to walk to his destination. He soon left the rows of houses and shops behind him; struck along a broad white road wliich cut its way through a level green sward, and in about three-quarters of an hour found himself in front of the Red Lion Inn, Oakbury. Ho entered tho inn—men of his stamp when In the country make entering inns a point of honor. He called for hot brandy and water and was supplied with a jorum of that deep brown liquor, dear to rustic palates on account of its presumed strength. Hervey sipped it, lit a cigar and entered into a cheerful conversation with the Red Lion and Lioness who were pursuing their calling in what, after tho fashion of country-inns, was a combination of bar and parlor. The Red Lion, an affable, condescending animal, and, like all noble animals, willing to relinquish toil for more congenial pursuits, seeing that his visitor was ready to talk, sat down in a round-backed chair near the fire, and left the Lioness to attend to the bottle and jug department, which, as the hour was just past noon, was in full swing of activity. Hervey asked a variety of quer'ions about the neighborhood. He might really have been a gentleman of fortune anxious to buy a place and so properly particular as to what society might be roundabout. He obtained much valuable and interesting information about the "families of position" as they appeared to the eyes of the Red Lion. He learned who lived in the big white house at the edge of the common, who In the house at the top of the hill, who in the house at the bottom. He was gradually leading up to the questions he wanted to ask, when the sound of carriage wheels was heard, and the Lion after glancing over the wire window-blind laid down his pipe and went to the door. Hervey also glanced out of the window and saw two tall gentlemen who occupied the box- seats of a large wagonette. They were talking gravely and sadly to the Lion who, whilst lie listened with due respect, looked somewhat crestfallen and ill at ease. "What's the matter now, Joe?" asked the Lioness, rather anxiously, as her spouse returned. "Say the last cask o' beer ran out two days before its time, so it couldn't have been full. They look after trifles, they do." "Oh, nonsense!" said the Lioness, tossing her head. "Some one must have got at it. Their servants are no bettor than others." "Who are they?" asked Hervey. "The Mr. Talberts of Hazlewood House," replied the landlady, with that smila on her face which seemed to come involuntarily on the faces of many people when they men- tioneil or heard the name of our gentle Horace and Herbert Hervey went hastily to the window and looked after tho wagonette, whioh, however, was by now out of sight. "Kich men, 1 suppose?" he said, reseating himself. "They're rich enough; but oh, that particular 1" said the Lioness, with another toss of her head, The accusation of short measure rankled in her breast "Close-fisted?" asked Hervey. "Well, yes, they're close," said the Lion. "That is, they like to get a shilling's worth for a shining." "We all like that. Let me have it now. Two brandies—one for you and one for me." The * ion laughed and filled the glasses. Ilervoy adroitly plied him with questions about the Talberts, and soon learnt almost as much as we know. He laughed with the landlord ?.t their amiable peculiarities. It was well our friends did not hear the Bed Lion, or Hazlewood House might have gone elsewhere for its beer, "They are funny gents," said the Lion. "You'd never believe; but a day or two ago I was walking along the road. It was drizzling with rain. The Mr. Talberts they passed mo, driving. All of a sudden they pull up at the hedge round their paddock, Mr. Herbert ho jumps down; he takes tho whip and with the handle begins poking furiously in the hedge. I ran up thinking something was the matter. Law no! not it. Ho was a poking at a bit of white paper which had blown in there. Poke and poke he did till he got it out—and Mr. Horace the while holding the horses and sitting and looking on as if it meant life or dcatli getting out that paper. Ruin tiling to be so particular, ain't it?" Ilorvey professed himself much amused ami continued his questions. Ho hoard all about Miss Clauson, the niece who had been staying -at Oakbury for so long. Ho even learnt the name of every member of the Hazlewood House establishment, ^rom that of the oltlest retainer, Whittaker, to that of the latest arrival, Mrs. Miller the nurse. He heard, of course, the whole history, with additions, of tho mysteriously-sent boy. And when he was told this, in spite of his self- control, a look of uttor amazement spread over Ills face. He rose, tuid bade the Red Hou good day. The story he had heard must have engrossed his nilndtoanvinprecedipnted extent, to he actually forgot to finisp, ms brandy aiia water; a nattering tritrate to tne landlord's power of interesting a listener. After leaving the inn Hervey took the first turning out of the main road. It was a little by-way leading to nowhere in particular. Here, as no onlookers were about, he gave vent to delight by sundry actions common to most men as soon as they find themselves alone after having received the best possible news, lie smacked his thigh; he rubbed his bauds together; he seemed to hug himself in his joy. He laughed aloud, but there was a cruel tins in his laugh, and there was a cruel Irml- nn hia laticrlilna- trmitt.li T-Ilonvoo livitrllt- encdwitli the blended lights of malice and anticipated triumph. "What luck I" ho ejaculated. "AVhat luck! I see it all from the very beginning. Confound it! it was a clever stroke. By G ! I've got her now! I've got her now I" He calmed himself; returned to the main road and inquired the way to Hazlewood House. He stood for sometime in front of the entrance gates; but finding that only tho chimneys of the house could be seen from this point, he walked round until he could get a better ideaof the building. "It all means money! Pots of money I" he said with glee. After this lie returned to'tho gates and it seemed as if he meant to favor our friends with a call. However, if so, he changed his mind. "No," he said, turning away. "There's a new element In the case which must be considered. No need to be in a hurry. I'll go back home and think it all out over a pipe." So he faced about, and. In a thoughtful way, sauntered down the lane, or roau, whose mission in tills world is to give access to Hazlewood House and two or three other equally desirable residences. It was a glorious winter's day. Tho sun was shining brightly; so brightly that on the bare twigs of tho hedges, tho hoar frost of tho night had dissolved itself into crystal drops which shone like jewels, and then, as if alarmed at their Protean nature, trembled and fell. Although a silvery hazo hung round the horizon there was no fog. Tho air was sharp and crisp but not damp. Tho wind if cold was quiet It was a day of a thousand—a day, In fact, on which, if she knows her business, a woman who has charge of a child takes It out for a good long walk. Mrs. Miller knew her business, so it was quite in order that as Maurice Hervey was walking down tho lane the nurse and the boy. on their way homo to early dinner, should be walking up, Hervey, whilst deep In his meditations, heard a voice, ami looking up saw the dark-clad woman and the golden-haired child within a few paces of him. He stopped short and looked at them. Hervey to-day presented an appearance so different from that of the caged creature seen by Mrs. Miller at Portland that she would probably have passed him without recognition. Ho was now fashionably dressed and, had it suited his purpose, might have brushed elbows with tho woman and yet left her ignorant of his release. This not being his purpose lie stopped short and waited. Naturally she raised her eyes and at once knew the truth. Had Sarah Miller followed the impulse which seized her when she saw that face full of mocking triumph she would have uttered a cry of anguish. Only the fear of alarming the child prevented her from so doing. As it was she gave a quick gasp and for a moment gazed at the man as if she saw a ghost Then she stooped and said to the boy. "Run on my pretty, run as fast as you can." The boy obeyed. Hervey made no effort to stop him, but he turned and followed him with liis eyes. Then once more he faced Mrs. Miller. She had by now recovered from tho first shock, and looked at him not so much with fear as with hatred and defiance. She took a few steps, passed him, and placed herself as if to bar the way to Hazlewood House. "What are you doing here?" she asked fiercely. "My dear Sarah," said the man in mocking tones, "what a strange question to ask! Considering your anxiety to appoint the earliest day possible for our meeting, is it any wonder that I come at once to find you?" "Now you've found me, what do you want?" "My poor Sarah, can't you guess. When you paid me that friendly visit last summer 1 told you what I pined for. I have come to you in order to find some one else." "She is hundreds of miles from here. You'll never see her again." Even as she told the lie her heart sank. The gleam in Hervey's eyes showed her she had lied in vain. He laughed like one en joy- ing the situation. "Never see her again I" he echoed, "I am inconsolable. But chance meetings do sometimes occur. You don't mean to give or sell me any information I suppose?" "I'd cut my tongue out first" "Oh, true and faithful servant I Then it's no good asking. But about yourself. Sarah —have you got a good place in tho neighborhood?" "That's none of your business," said Mrs. Miller, sharply. Ilervoy laughed again. "I should like to hear you had a nice comfortable place. Something easy and suited to your declining years. You have not worn well, my poor Sarah. You look at least twenty years older than when I first know you." She took no notice of tho taunt. Again tho man laughed his mocking laugh. "What kind of a place is yours, Sarah? As you know, I am much interested in you. You are a nurse, I suppose." Ho nodded in the direction of tho boy who stood some little distance off wondering in his childish way what his guardian was about with tills gentleman. "Yes, I am a nurse," said Mrs. Miller sullenly. "And that is one of your charges? Tho youngest perhaps? A fine little fellow. Do you know I have often dreamed of owning such a boy as that. At heart I believe I have the germs of respectability and domestic goodness, What do you think, Sarah?" "Your heart is as black as a coal," burst out the woman excitedly. "Would to God you had died in prison. For years it has been my daily prayer," "Yet it availed nothing—the prayer of the righteous! Something gone wrong above, Sarah, Never mind, I give you good wishes in return for evil ones. I know something of this neighborhood and the people, and if I could choose a place for you it would bo one with two middle-aged gentlemen named Talbert, who live at llazlowood House with a beautiful unmarried niece named Beatrice Clauson. That would be such a comfortable place for you, Sarah I" Until now lie had been playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse. There was nothing to show her the extent of his knowledge. For all she knew ho might simply have come down hero to find her. So she had guarded every word, every look, fearing lest she might give him information. Now ho bared his claws and showed her that escape was impossible. She groaned but struggled no more. "You will take money?" she asked. "Oh yes, Sarah, I'll take money." "And go away and trouble her no more. Tell mo where to find you to-morrow, come and arrange everything." "Oh uo, you won't } uever agents, four intervwtion J^ ane Riampcu nt'i rnot angrily, "ion luff •what you wont," Slip exclaimed, "or k-avi; me ami so and do your worst. You may have men to deal with now, not women." lie threw oft'in a second every Irnce ot mockery. Ho seized her wrist mid held her. His eyes shone fiercely into hers. "Lisli'ii, you hag—you cut!" lie said. "All your part 13 this business is to take a message. Go straight to her. Toll her I am here: free, and with a pocket full of money. Tell her to pome to me to-morrow at my rooms. Tell her I will wait until twelve o'clock. It she is not then; when the clo.-k strikes, I swear 1 will come and see her in her own homo- Do you understand? Answer me." "Yes, I understand." "Here's the address." Ho scrihhled it on a hit of paper. "Now you can go tiaclc anil resume your neglected duties. A sweet little, hoy that, Sarah." Without another word she left him. She took th(5 hoy by the hand and went through the gates of Ilazlcwood llonse. Hervey watched her disappear, chuckled maliciously, and strode off in the direction of Blacktown. In a mechanical way Mrs. Miller gave the boy his dinner. She ate nothing herself. but hoi- lips moved as if framing words, and her heart offered up its fervent, but Incoherent and illogical prayers. Knowing that it was Beatrice's custom to visit the nursery soon after lunch and assure herself Unit her boy had dined well, Mrs. Miller did not go in search of her. She listened for the expected step, and when she heard it opened the door, and motioned her mistress to enter the, adjoining room, the night nursery. She followed and the look on her face told Beatrice what had happened. "It has come?" she whispered and turning very pale. Mrs. Miller threw herself on her knees, and taking Beatrice's hand, sobbed aloud. "Oh my poor dear! My poor dear I" she wailed. "It has come. Yes, it lias come. The Lord lias not thought, lit to answer my prayers. Oh, my dear mistress, may He stretch forth His arm and lighten the sorrow which is before you I" She kissed Beatrice's hand. She fawned upon her almost like a dog. Her mistress seemed scarcely to hear her words—scarcely to notice her actions, "It was bound to come," shosald,clreninlly. "I have been waiting for it for weeks. The sword was over my head. I knew it must fall. Where is he?" she adde.d. "Ho was here, close at hand," snid Sarah. Then noticing Beatrice's shudder. "Ho has gone away for a while; but I saw him. He gave me a message. Oh, my dear, my dear I You must expect no mercy." "I expect none. I wUl ask for none. Give me the message." Mrs. Miller gave It word forward and then handed her the paper with the address. "I must go," said Beatrice. "There is no help for it. The shame which 1 dared not face— the crash I shrank like a coward from preparing for, lias come. Well, if all must be known it will rid mv Ufa of the deceit which for years has made it a burden." She turned away, entered the nursery and kissed the boy. Suddenly she gave the nurse a frightened look. "You saw him," she said; "did he see the boy?" Mrs. Miller nodded sadly. "Did lie know—did lie guess?" "He said nothing. But, oh, my poor dear! there was something in his manner that made me tremble—something that told me he guessed all." "Then Heaven help me!" said Beatrice leaving the room. She went to her bedroom in which she stayed for hours. Hours during which she lived again in thought the whole of her life during the past five years. Years which had turned her from a light-hearted, impulsive girl Into a grave and saddened woman. A woman who partly by her own folly, partly by the crime and cruelty of another found herself to-day in as sore a plight as ever woman knew. nearn ner msioiy, icnuveu m-i \vaniM, mat hei doctored and cured, and by these acts made the woman her slave .for life. She riveted the links for ever, when, fancying she could do with a maid, she, in spite of a grumble from her great-aunt, took this w* man, named Sarah Miller, into her service. This happened in the early days of her sojourn at Mrs. Erskine's. The course of study progressed. For the. most part Beatrice taught, herself. After a while it struck her she Should like again to take up her drawinsr. Here, as li-r anihition rose higher than wishing toexecntetheusual schoolgirl masterpicecs,she needed a master. A caller, an acquaintance cf Mrs. Erskine's, gave her a name and address which had been given to her by some one else. Beatrice wrote and asked the artist's terms, lie replied. She wrote again, accept ine the terms and begging him to call on a certain day. So Maurice Hervey came into her life. When fn-st she saw him the girl was surprised to find she had summoned to her aid a young man of about twenty-live. But the nge of a drawing-master appeared to Miss Clauson as a matter of secondary importance. So long as he knew his business what mattered if he was twenty-live or fifty-five, Mrs. Evskine troubled nothing I'.bout the affair. She knew that a muster traveler niece lessons twice or thrice a week. The old lady never even acquired ills name. To her lie was the drawing-master, no more and no less. There are many such old ladies as this! In order that what happened may be read aright, two facts must; be distinctly borne in mind. The first, that Beatrice Clauson was not then the stately and apparently emotionless young lady, whose calm and self-contained demeanor was such a subject of congratulation to her.uncles, and such a puzzle to Frank Carrut.hcrs. She was bub a girl of eighteen, proud if you will, but romantic, impulsive, and notwithstanding the shattering of the paternal idol, trustful of man and womankind. She was lonely; craved for sympathy; and in spite of her position In the world, her lite, so far as she could see it, looked void and colorless. A long stretch without a visible goal. Lastly, she believed, as most young peoplo.of eighteen believe, that her judgment AS to what was best for herself was Infallible. The second fact to be borne in mind is that Maurice IIerve> at twenty-live was not, in appearance,' the scowling, crafty-looking felon seen by Mrs. Mlllerin Portland prison, not even the malicious, mocking rnllian who confronted heron his release. The mask worn by the man when BcaU-iee iirst know him lilted to perfection, and until the wearer chose showed no glimpse of the villainous, sordid nature it hid. He was decidedly good- looking, lie was well-dressed, and if lie carried a touch of the Bohemian about iilm.lt was not more than was pleasant and compatible with the profession lie followed. His hands, a matter upon which young girls set undue store, were white and well formed. Ho was attentive and respectful in the discharge of his duties—doubly so after the ftrst few lessons I "WHY SHOULD WE WEEP THOSE WHO DIE?" FOB should we weep for those wlio die? They fall, their dust returns to dust;. Tlicir souls shall live eternally "Within, the mansions of the just. They idle to live, they sink to rise, They leave this wretched mortal shore; But brighter situs and bluer skies Shall smile on, them for evermore. "Why should we sorrow for the dead?. Our life on earth is but a span; They tread the path that all must tread, They die the common death of man.. . i CHAPTER XX. WHAT SUE LOOKED BACK UPON. As the story of Beatrice's past is made up of things she knew, things she guessed, and things of which she knew nothing, it will bu better to learn it in its veracious entirety than to glean it from the saddened musings that winter's afternoon. After the battle-royal between Lady Clauson and her stepdaughter, and when Sir Maingay weakly and for the sake of peace left his daughter at home, whilst he iled to the Continent with that newly-acquired treasure, his beautiful wife, Beatrice settled down to the dullest of dull lives, or what certainly promised to be so unless the girl could brighten it by drawing on her own resources for amusement. On one point, however, she had nothing to complain of. A childless widow with a largo income could not have enjoyed more freedom of action. Mrs. Erskine, the aunt, in whose care she was nominally placed, was old, wrapped up In her own varied ailments, and so selfish as to keep herself clear of suspect ing people, because suspicion brought trouble and worry. Beatrice was free to spend her hours as it best suited her; to come and go as she chose, and generally to do what pleased herself. By this arrangement Mrs. Erskine saved herself much trouble and responsibility— things which are extremely injurious to an old gentlewoman in feeble health. But Beatrice, who was in magnificent health, as all young girls of eighteen should be, soon found that to render life at Mrs. Erskine's worth living, she must find occupation for her lonely hours. Perhaps there were tBnes when the ideal pleasure and joy with which an uutravelled mind invests a foreign tour, mad • her repent of her hastiness in disdaining to occupy a secondary place in her father's heart. But if it was so, her pride forbade any proposals of surrender. Nevertheless, something had to be done to make life tolerable. She cared little or nothing for general society, and even had she done so, the fact of her possessing tow friends anywhere, and none in London, would have rendered her going out into the world a matter of difficulty. So that Miss Clauson, who was a young lady of no mean abilities, a.ud who had somehow imbibed the modern notion that if rightly directed a woman's brain-power is. equal to man's in acquiring knowledge, decided that the most satisfactory method by which time could be killed, was by continuing her studies from the point at which she laid them down when she left the fashionable finishing school. Being also ; rather troubled by the feeling that she ought to do something for suffering humanity, she organized a little charitable scheme. She had plenty of pocket-money. Sir Maingay, who since oldTalbert's death had received a considerable sum per annum, paid out of the trust, for his daughter's maintenance and education, behaved most generously in this respect. There is no salve to the conscience so elllcacious as a money sacrifice 1 Beatrice, then, did what good she could on her own account. As a piteous tale always opened her purse, rev Hers of indiscriminate almsgiving n^ay think little of her ettorts. ||ey bore no fruit save in one The noblest songster of the dale Must cease when winlter's frowns appear; The reddest rose is wan and pale When autumn tints the changing year. The fairest flower on earth must fade, rrhe brightest liolpes on earth must die; Why should we mourn that man was made To droop on eartih, but dwell on high? The soul, th' eternal soul, must reign In worlds devoid of pain and 1 strife; Then why should mortal man complain Of death, which leads to happier life? —Alfred Tennyson. LIMITED RESERVE. Fraternal Alliance Adopts Foature. a Novel Racine, June 8.—The Fraternal filll- anc,} lias, closed its session In this city and agreed to meet at Belolt next year, The principal amendment to the by-laws related to a reserve and guarantee fund providing for a reserve of $1,000,000, payable within three years. The ariieiiMiicnt was passed. The Fraternal allance is the first assessment Oi'lov to adopt a limited res-irvo l«ot- uiv. AP. amendment providing Tov the foirniug of a national lodge was a?fO discusser: at length and adopted. Officers elected are as follows; Supreme* president, M. G". Jeffries; of JanesviUe; supreme vice-president, 0, H. Wn Chester, of Baraboo; supreme, secretary, E. M. Daniels, of Milwaukee; supreme treasurer, H. M. Battin, of Milwaukee; supreme medical examiner, H. M. Darling, of Milwaukee; supreme examiner, P. B. Barnson, of Eeloit; directors, W. H. Dean, of Racine; Gto. McGrath, of Milwaukee, and Mr. Suit- son, of Milwaukee. A LOSING PUBLICATION. Cause of the Trouble of a Big Boston Firm. Boston, June 8.—The publishing firm of Potter & Potter has made an assignment to W. A. Clark, Jr., in favor of the creditors. It is said the publj,- cation of the New England Magazine, a losing venture, is the cause of .the trouble. The liabilities will reach nearly. $100,000. Governor Brown has porogucd the Rhode Island. legislature till the foujtii - ' n «i"ww» brought feer in r contact ^ithj, "