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m ^ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ l. m. obzst's sons, pnbii.her., j % Jfamilg IJemspajer: 40r 'M gromotion 0)1 the folitieal, fociat. ^jriiultupt and fltommecriat Jnterests of the people. {TeB8?N0LEcopAT.VFivECE^VA!'c,!' established 1855. : ~~YORKVILLB, Sl~C., TUK8DAY, JTJI/V 23, 1907. N~Q. 59. MVCHTER: By ETTA \ CHAPTER XX. Two In On?. Jim Hart raised his daughter from the floor of Aunt Deb's cottage. "What does all this mean?"" he demanded, with a man's natural antipathy to scenes. "Let me lock the door, Jim," quavered Aunt Deb. "Esther's in trouble; somebody may step In unawares. You see we were expecting something unpleasant when you appeared." "Trouble??what kind of trouble?" cried the newcomer. "Jim's a gentleman!" had always been Aunt Deb's favorite boast concerning her brother-in-law. It did not si?m a vain one. He was somewhat brown and weatherbeaten, as a western miner should be, but extremely good-looking and extremely well-dressed. He had a quiet, courteous manner, and a well-bred?yes. distingue air. A hawk-like keenness In his face added to its attractiveness. Plainly, Es tiler's father was no ordinary Individual. "You must tell him the story, Esther," groaned Aunt Deb; "I can't What with this girl's troubles, and such sudden comings and goings. I'm all struck up in a heap," and she dropped helplessly Into a chair. "You might have written, Jim, for us to expect you." "And so I did," he answered, sharply. "In my last letter to Esther I told you I was coming." The girl by this time had recovered her self-control. She stood up, tall, * white, rigid, before this stranger-father. and said:. "One day, when I wap In great distress?you won't understand how I could do it, but I destroyed your letter, unread. That is why you took us by surprise Just now." He turned her to the light and looked at her long and critically. She bore the inspection without flinching. "You are a handsome girl!" he said, at loot- "T am not ashamed of you. You do me credit. Have I been a good father to you, while I was west and you east? Have you had all you needed In the way of fine clothes, and trinkets, and education? Have you lacked anything?" "I have had everything?I have lacked nothing," she answered, in a dreary. Joyless way. "You do not look In the least as I expected to see you," keeping his hawk eyes fastened in amaze upon her. "You are far handsomer than your mother ever was, though she passed for a pretty girl in Cinderville, twenty years ago. And you have been happy with the old folks?your grandfather and Concordia, I mean?" "Yes," she answered, mechanically. "Now make a clean breast of It!" he commanded. "I am waiting?tell me everything!" She told her story with dry, burning eyes and colorless lips. He heard how Guy Fleetwood had come to Cinderville searching for a woman called Concordia Tempest?of the wooing at Porgy Rock, the flight and the marriage?of the scene on the beach, where the bride had flung her ornaments Into the sea?of Fleetwood's desertion of her, and the vengeance she had wreaked upon him: and. lastly, of how she had been hiding from justice for two terribie weeks. He did not move or speak throughout the narrative. He sat with chin dropped forward, and eyes fixed on the floor. Whether or no he was affected Wla /lniiakiar'c Uf Pon OTC Q oHiTIP II V Ills uauftilltl o ni VH50 Uiiv. v. ...... nel'.her of the others could tell. T killed him, father!" gasped Esther, tragically. "I saw him fall, covered with blood, on the floor of that room. I killed him!" He started as though coming out of sleep. "Let me see," he mused: "Guy Fleetwood, a young Canadian?seems to me that name has a familiar ring! He tells you himself that he was visiting In Colorado not many months ago? hum! He returns from that region with a burning curiosity to find a certain Concordia Tempest. He falls in love with you and coaxes you into an elopement: and then the ring and the trinkets I sent you turn his heart from you, eh? The ring! Yes, I see the connection with tolerable clearness. By my soul! Things happen oddly in this world. There are so many events that the wisest of men cannot foresee!" He laughed, but his eyes flashed Are. "Esther, I acknowledge you as my very own! my seal, so to speak, is upon you! You have acted grandly; you have done the right thing in the right place. This curious seeker after women with strange names; this fastidious husband, who will not allow his wife to wear her father's gifts; this fine gentleman who can cast off a bride one week and woo another the next?my dear, he deserved all that he got. It is a clear case of righteous retribution. I should have killed him if you had not. You spared me the task, that Is all." By some strange revulsion of feeling known only to a woman's heart. Esther shuddered away from her father. "Don't say that!" she sobbed, with the Inconsistency of her sex. "1 would give my own life to bring his back. I shall deliver myself up to the proper authorities. I am a murderess?a wicked, desperate murderess?let them hang me as such. I love him, and I killed him! Smite me, curse me. disown me. father, but do not praise me for what 1 have done." "Heaven above!" cried Aunt Deb, in terror: "don't let her be hung. Jim! She was mad with jealousy?she wasn't responsible. You'll save your own child, won't you?" "Has there been much hue and cry after her?" he asked, gloomily. "None that I know of. She hid In Canada two weeks, as she Just told you. Nobody followed her there, she says, or spoke of the murder in her hearing." "Didn't the affair get into the newspapers?" s of cum V. PIERCE "I don't know," answered Esthei wildly; "I saw no newspapers." "Nor L," added Aunt Deb. "Faugh!" cried Jim Hart, in a sud den, disgusted conviction; "you ma; be sure that you didn't kill the scoun drel?wounded him, perhaps, but noth ing more. The fuss that is made ove the shooting of a man in these part is something sickening, and yoi wouldn't have escaped like this if hi had met his just desert. Mr. Guy Fleet wood bean a charmed life. Well, i may be my good luck to meet him la ter. Come!" his voice growing stem almost brutal; "face the situation, girl and prove yourself game! It won't di to show the white feather now, or ti talk about love, or the giving up o yourself to the authorities." Then bringing his hand savagely down 01 the table, "I arrived here tonight, 1 In time to nrnvent VOU fron making' a fool of yourself!" But Esther slipped forward and la! groveling on the floor before him. "He Is dead!" repeated the unreason able young creature. "I saw him fall He is dead, and it matters nothing what becomes of me now! Oh, Guy Oh. Guy! My love?my love!" As he looked down upon her, moan Ing there on the floor, with her fact In the dust. It seemed as though hi were about to spurn her with his foot He checked himself, however, and turn ed to poor Aunt Deb. "Leave her to come out of this tan trum at her leisure," he said. "Havi you anything in the larder, Concordia' A piece of Cinderville hake or had' dock, or any similar trifle? Your sal air revives my old taste for such fare Hark!" lifting his head with evlden pleasure: "that's the sound of the set on the rocks, isn't it? Many a yea: has come and gone since I heard I last." Aunt Deb. with her anxious eyes 01 the prostrate, motionless Esther, an swered: "Yes, I remember well the time yo? came, a stranger. to Cinderville, am fell in love with our Drusle, and mar ried her against the will of your peo pie, as you yourself said. I guess th< tea Is still hot in the pot, and, bj good luck there's flsh In the cupboard I'll get you a bite directly. The worl< seems to have gone well with you, Jin ?I s'pose you've made a mint of morn ey In them mines. You've got the lool of a prosperous man." "I have prospered fairly well," an< swered the returned wanderer, his eyes following her as she began t< bring forth such cheer as she had fron her cupboard and arrange the dishei on the table. "Esther has been ampl] provided for, and you well paid for al your trouble with her, eh?" "Yes," she acknowledged. "Why the deuce didn't you keep hei out of this marriage muddle, Concor dia?" "I couldn't, Jim; 'twas all done urn beknown to me. She headstrong? would have her own way In every' thine Mr jripptwood asked aran'' ther and me for Essie, and we sai< 'no,' and much good that did! I wlsl she had been in the west with you." He laughed. "With me? You are what you al ways was?a simpleton, Concordia What could I do with such a girl ii the west? She seems to be a wholi handful even here." Aunt Deb regarded him doubtfully "I s'pose you've come east for good Jim?" "No," he answered; "I shall remaii but a few days. Ah. your supper ii ready?I will move up!" Jim Hart, born gentleman, returne< miner, drew his chair to the table, an< proceeded to partake of the fare whicl Aunt Deb had spread thereon. Al the time Esther was lying face down ward on the floor. Her father paid n< more heed to her than if she had beei a dog. Absence, doubtless, had dull ed his paternal affection. He had no seen his child since her babyhood, an< a western mining region is scarcel; the place to cultivate the finer feeling of a man's nature. He ate very slow ly. then moved leisurely back from th< table. "Your Clndervllle fish has lost it flavor," he said, "it does not taste a: it used to in the years gone by, Con cnruia; or. pernups, i nave uuigium my love for It." Suddenly he bent am touched the girl on the floor. "Ge up!" he said, in a tone that made Aun Deb jump, so stern it was and pitiless "I've something to say to you." A shiver crept over the lovely, pros trate figure; then, as if conscious tha she had met her master, she strugglei to her feet. "I am going to take you away fron Cindervllle," he began; "now?thi very night." "Whither?" she queried, impassivelj "That question involves some ex planatlons. Fit down. You look Ilk a ghost ra.her than a live womai standing there?you make me vast! uncomfortable." waving his hand wit impatience. She sat down, j "You have never known your fath er's people. Esther, but they exist i another state, and the time has com for you to make thei. acquaintance. must now take you from Concordi here, and carry you away to my ow kindred." She answered not a word?onl looked at him with woful, despalrin eyes. "They are an aristocratic lot," h said, with a shrug of the shoulden "My marriage with your mother of fended them deeply. After her deat I went west, as you know, and then as you do not know, I contracted second marriage, and became the fath er of another daughter." "Jim Hart!" gasped Aunt Deb, i utter astonishment; "you never mea It?" "Don't interrupt. Concordia?I muf make this story short. After a fe\ happy years?Great God!" passionate ly, "they were happy, indeed!?I wa forced to send wife and child to the b I east. My wife died; my little girl has b I remained ever since In the care of her c I personal relatives. It Is to this sister g that I now mean to take Esther." h "A sister?have I a sister?" she d muttered, in bewilderment. \ "Yes, and It Is time, I dare say, that you make her acquaintance. But h wait! you are going to people of high a social position, full of pride and pre- 1< judlce. You are to keep your lips li sealed about your past. No one must tl know of the llttl? accident which late- v Ily befell Mr. Fleetwood." |\ She shuddered, but bowed her handr, some head. He smiled, grimly. y "That is good. I like to be strictly a obeyed in all things. And now this y brings me to the verge of another confession. Many years ago?yes, before y my first marriage?I found it necessary to change my name. I had made si my father angry by some wild college scrapes?I was under ban?so I drop- S ped the name that he charged me with b having disgraced, and assumed that F t of Jim Hart, and as Jim Hart I married Drusle Runnel! Now, don't stare, a Concordia." and he gave an exasperat' ing laugh; "it's not to be expected lc ^ that you should know everything about ^ the stranger who wooed your sister in ci t his wild youth." b "For goodness' sake," burst out Aunt j Peb, "have I lived nineteen years tl t since Drusle's marriage, only to hear o: ^ that you ain't yourself, Jim Hart, but n somebody else?" "Exactly." C "And perhaps you ain't come from G the mines of Leadville, either?" with rr growing suspicion. li " "Sharp Concordia! I have not. I h< , was never a miner. Be calm; don't let such a small matter ruffle your tern- di per. It is kindness, sometimes, tode- fr ceive our nearest friends. My real fi ? name Is Gilbert Vye. I am a Colora6 do cattle king and a person of vast si resources," and he laughed in a mirth- V less, unpleasant way. "Hark! I hear tl the rumbling of the last stage for Bar- T ? ton. Make haste. Esther. You are 9 ? now the elder Miss Vye, and If you D [ possess common discretion, your hon- n t orable relatives will scarcely be able d> to find fault with you. Come, girl, a j you have made a failure of yourself? yi now I will start you upon a new track, g Put on your shawl and bonnet and lc t let us be gone." rr si 1 CHAPTER XXI. Twilight had fallen in the drawing- y, j room at Rookwood?a September twi- ni j light, full of cold, creeping mist and n dashes of rain. Mlgnon, flitting like di some bright bird from window to wlna down, saw the river blotted out in a < < f chilly shroud: but beyond Its dark, ci sinuous line lights were shining in Lis- y, j penard's tower. j She went back to a wood fire burn- r< . Ing on the hearth. Before it two per- t< j sons were seatea?victor Bmrmw, wnu had dined this day at Rookwood, and meek, pale Elinor Vye, the latter busy, as usual, with her embroidery. fc "I feel as if something was about i to happen." said Mignon, dropping ol upon a tiger-skin rug at the feet of f? Elinor Vye, where the red fire shone o J full upon her yellow hair, and her w dinner dress of wine-dark silk. ol "My dear?" said Aunt Elinor, in t; meek interrogation. bi "Some coming event Is casting its rr shadow over me," explained Mignon. ei "News from papa, maybe. It Is very, c? very odd that he has never answered si my last letter." n "Possibly its contents displeased fr ' him," murmured Shirlaw, gazing fond- ai ly into the uplifted brown eyes. n She shook her head. "I think not. He would not si w tl his displeasure In that way. I fear he ai did not receive it, or," sinking her h voice to a shy whisper, "perhaps he cannot quite make up his mind how to h< dispose of his daughter and heiress." si in tho absence of Cvril Vye life at Rookwood had flowed very peacefully L ' for the last few weeks. Shlrlaw was v constantly there, hovering: about Mlg- n 1 non: but Philip Vye seemed to suspect o' nothing, and treated Lispenard's kins- w j man with studied politeness. Aunt j Elinor saw all. but uttered no word, |j made no sign. h I There was now but one drawback to w Mlgnon's happiness?no reply had yet w come from Gilbert Vye, no paternal sanction to her engagement. What C| could his silence mean? * "I hope to heaven that we shall not o; j meet with any opposition from him!" said Shirlaw. "My darling. I wonder s) ^ if you would give me up at his bid- a] s ding?" She shivered. S( "I love him so much, Victor! It Vl would break my heart to disobey pa- jr pa; but." trying to smile, "we need not 0 talk like this. His silence does not. cannot mean disapproval. Tomorrow ei U we may hear something favorable from t] dear, faraway Happy Valley. Yes? tI . surely?by tomorrow!" h Elinor Vye had turned her face?she c| ' always appeared oblivious to the lov- a ers and their low murmurs. She was n " now looking away to a window op* poslte the fireplace. p ^ "Llspenard's lights are shining (j brightly tonight," she said. n "I fear the old chap has something s on his mind," answered Shirlaw, care- ^ lessly. "He seems strangely distrait y r- nf late?quite unlike himself. Maybe u " the family tragedy weighs on his spir- p e its." Cl n "Ah, poor fellow!" murmured Aunt y Elinor. i, ^ The gas had not been lighted In the f{ room, nor the curtains drawn. Sud- w denly they all heard a slight sound h - outside the window: looking, they saw jf n a man standing there, his face pressed a e to the glass, his figure looming up, suI pernaturally dark and tall, against the ^ a background of misty twilight. The n n moment he found himself observed, up p went the sash?he leaped into the y drawing room of Rookwood with a g free and easy air. I "I trust I am as welcome by the 0 e window as the door," he said. o ?. Mignon sprang up from the tiger - skin. A look?a cry?a breathless rush p h past Shirlaw, who had risen, indignant g i, and astonished, from his chair, and a she was in the arms of the intruder. f. "Papa! papa!" she cried, wildly; "it g is papa!" n Ye?, i.ir majesty, the cattle king, had, fi n indeed, come. Gilbert Vye stood again under the family roof-tree. In the home h it of the old judges and magistrates and h fommiii lawvprs of his race. Lone- si - parted father and child were clasped g s in a close embrace. What were Gil- s] ert Vye's thoughts, tus he held to his old, had heart this Innocent young < reature?this beautiful, high-bred 1 Irl, who had been reared far from 1 1m, and in a manner befitting the I aughter of the ancient, aristocratic ? 'yes?" < "Mignon?my darling!" He pressed < er to his heart, he kissed her again nd again?he held her from him and 1 >oked at her with wild, glad eyes? j i all the world she was the only thing i hat he loved, and he did love her? j hatever his sins might be, Gilbert rye loved his daughter. < "You have become a fine woman, but I ou are still my little Mlgnon," he 1 aid, fondly. "I should have known t ou anywhere." "Oh, papa," she gasped, "this Is why < ou did not answer my letter!" ! "Yes! I concluded to give you a little t urprlse, Instead." 1 He turned, bold and imposing, to 1 hlrlaw and Aunt Elinor, who were i oth standing silent In the background. < le shook hands with his sister-in-law. s "I am unspeakably glad that you I re here, Gilbert!" she cried, fervently. And then Mlgnon led him to her 1 iver. "Victor," she stammered, In happy 1 infusion, "this Is papa?you two must 1 { friends." 1 A most curious sensation shot irough Shlrlaw as his hand met that j r tne came King, ne siooa ime ? ian dazed. t "I hope at a later date to cultivate \ aptain Shirlaw's acquaintance," said ilbert Vye, politely. Now, where Is I ly brother Philip? I have taken the c berty to bring a second guest to his f ouse"? t Even as he spoke the drawing-room r nor flew open, and Philip Vye, drawn om his library by the cries and con- a jslon, appeared on the threshold. t "My God!" he cried, starting back a I tep at sight of his visitor. Gilbert ye smiled, with the same sang froid t lat he had displayed In Concordia a empest's cottage. e "My dear Philip, do you Invoke the t elty In joy or dismay? I hope I have f ot upset you. it is my way ?.o sww^ own upon my friends?and enemies, * Iso?suddenly. Bless me! how old ou have grown, Philip! You are as t ray as a rat. Well, I myself am no 1 >nger a boy?the years leave their a lark on all of us." <j Philip Vye regained his self-posses- c on immediately. j "Of course, I am delighted to see ou, Gilbert," he answered: "only do > ot say that you are here to take Mlg- c on from us?our lovely Mignon, as ear to us as our own flesh." t "No." replied Gilbert Vye, "I do not I ome to carry Mignon away?on the ontrary, Philip, I have brought to ou my other daughter." c A blank silence fell In the drawing- I >om. It was broken by Mignon's as- * inished voice. "Papa! what do you mean?" p "Let me tell you a family secret, my ear," said the cattle king, drawing her t rndly to him. "I was a widower when married your mother, and the father ], f a daughter who had been left In the g ir east, with her mother's people, wing to her humble stadon, my first c ife did not quite meet the approval s f my kindred"?with a mocking bow t ? his brother: "Indeed, she was the c one of contention which finally drove le to the frontier. I have never spok- g i to you of the matter, Mlgnon, be- a luse, heretofore, I could see no neces- c ity for doing so; but your sister is e ow homeless, and In great trouble | om the loss of her maternal relatives, | nd so, to make the story brief, she Is j ow waiting at the gate of Rookwood." g Whatever Philip Vye may have g lought of this sudden resurrection of g n old and obnoxious family affair, g Is mask-like face betrayed nothing, r "You are rich In surprises, Gilbert," e said, dryly; but Mlgnon, now In a tate of wild excitement. Interrupted: c "How strange, how delightful, papa! g et me see my sister at once! It was j ery good of you to bring her here to- g Ight, that she might share In your wn welcome. I promise to love her a Ith my whole heart." "And I also," said Elinor Vye, firm- 1 r. For once she seemed to forget her usband's presence. "Do not keep her c altlng another moment, Gilbert; she \ III think us unkind and unhospitable." "Very true," chimed In Philip, vivalously; "bring her In." 1 The cattle king walked leisurely out r f the drawing-room and down Into f le driveway, where a close carriage tood waiting. He threw back the door r nd said, briefly: "Come!" Esther alighted. Gilbert Vye thrust I )tne money Into the hand of the drl- f pr, and the vehicle rolled away, leavlg the two together at the entrance e { Rookwood. 1 "Your kindred will receive you prop- r rly, Esther." said Gilbert Vye. "Mind f lat you say nothing about your late j . . . -oubles. You have left your past Deind you?your very name is now i handed. All that happened to you t mong your mother's relatives you lust forget." s She nodded, but did not speak. He I ushed her almost rudely toward the oor. "You are to begin a new life here, c fo whining, remember, and no more r evilish nonsense, girl! Both you and I our sister ought to marry men of t ealth and position; you have each a d owerful share of good looks. Now r ourage?here we go!" I The next moment Esther was stand- s ig in the Rookwood drawing-room, c ice to face with the strange kindred 1 hose existence had been unknown to \ er one week before?a grand, pale vis- r >n. dressed in plainest black, but of 1 beauty so startling that everybody 1 tared in amazement. Mlgnon was the s tie first to recover her wits. She e ushed forward and caught the imressive creature in her arms. f "So you are my sister?" she cried, c and I never dreamed till tonight that e possessed such a treasure. Oh, we .? ught to have known and loved each a ther long ago!" In Esther's big, woeful eyes a sus- I Iclous moisture gathered, then Aunt 1 llinor embraced her and said, boldly: "Welcome to Rookwood?to your 1 ither"s birthplace, my dear! I thank (ilbert for bringing you here." 8 With a shrug Philip extended his a nger tips to the newcomer. v "Miss Vye, I fear you are even s andsomer than your sister Mlgnon," ^ e said, lightly. "As guardian of two I uch girls my brother has surely a reat responsibility resting upon his 1 houlder." t Shirlaw was the last to be presented. He looked like a man suddenly bereft of his senses. He mumbled a few Incoherent words. Esther simply inclined her handsome head In silence, ind Philip Vye, heeding neither, turned to his brother and put a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "Well, what does all this mean?" be said, impatiently. "Surely, Gilbert, pou did not leave your herds and "anges for no other purpose than to five us this surprise?" "True," replied the other, "I heard >f Mignon's engagement to this gen:leman," nodding toward Shlrlaw, "and [ started east to make his acquaintince." "Mignon engaged!" Philip Vye turnid like lightning on his niece, gave Shlrlaw a piercing, unpleasant look, hen smiled. "Ah, Mignon is a sly )uss. and the captain, I acknowledge, ms stolen a march on me! Very veil. I forgive them both, of course. Juite right, Elinor," as Mrs. Vye iwept up to Mignon and kissed her. s the matter settled?" Gilbert Vye looked at his daughter's over. "If Captain Shlrlaw should be at elsure In the morning," he said, politey, "I beg permission to talk with llm in private." "I am at your service at any hour 'ou may name," said Shlrlaw. Elinor Vye had drawn Esther down o a seat, and was taking oft her vraps. The grand, white creature sat voiceess and statue-like In the midst of the lumpany. Shlrlaw tried to look away rom her, but could not. He was ceralnly losing his wits. At last he nanageo 10 wnisper 10 mikuuu, "You must have had a great deal to tay to your father, of course. He has he right to monopolize you tonight. am de trop here." And he made a hasty exit. Down to he landing he went, jumped into a kiff and started for the opposite rlvx bank. Half way across the current te bent suddenly and dashed a handul of the cold water to his forehead. "I must be going mad!" he said to ilmself. He found Abel Llspenard pacing his errace in the gathering gloom, with a lalf dozen hounds at his heels?a quare, powerful figure, absorbed In leep thought and looking odd and uncanny enough in that uncertain light. Vt sight of Shlrlaw the dwarf paused. "Good heaven! You look as though 'ou had lost your wits, Victor!" he tried. Shlrlaw tried to laugh. "Perhaps I have. Don't mind me. I >ring you news, old man. Gilbert Vye las arrived at Rookwood." "Ah!" "And brought with him another laughter?the child of a first marriage, t seems that the man has had two vlves." Llspenard's pale, dark face remained >erfectly impassive. "Well," he said, simply, "what Is <311>?rt Vye like?" "When you meet him you will doubtess be impressed with his fine phyIque and good breeding." "Then he has preserved the habits ?f civilized society, in spite of his long lojourn with the cowboys and half>reeds? Evil communication has not :orrupted his good manners, eh?" "No. One might say that he has >reserved them to a wonderful degree," inswered Shirlaw, dryly. "I am to go >ver there in the morning, to be propirly examined by his majesty regardng my merits as a prospective sonn-law. Don't look at me like that, Jspenard. I have received a curious ihock, you see?some strange, I may ay, infernal delusions have got poslession of me tonight; but," with a rhastly smile, "they will be gone by nornlng." "Delusions?concerning Gilbert Vye?" "Yes, by Jove! yes. He reminds me >f a?a?person that I once encountered in the west under abominably unrieasant circumstances, but I cannot ipeak of it, even to you." "And the daughter?" said Lispenird. A strange look appeared on Shlraw's handsome, careless face. "No words of mine can describe the laughter!" he answered, in a low oice. Meanwhile, in the Rookwood drawng-room Esther Vye arose from i *c nidst of her new-found kindred i.?l aid to Aunt Elinor: "May I asked to be shown to my worn?" The chamber recently vacated jy daud Loftus was assigned to ner. dlgnon followed her thither. "Strange that papa never told us of aoh other!" purred the latter, sweety, "and all my life I have longed so nuch for a sister! Dearest Esther, I ihall be very, very proud to present 'ou to our Dale friends." The island girl stood In the charmng room as Insensible to its luxury as hough she had been at Porgy Light. "Do not present me to anyouuy, ?uc mswered, in a stifled voice; "do not et it be known that I am here." Mignon stared and smiled. "Oh, but I must! We could not con eal you if we would, and we would lot if we could. Why, you have the >eauty of a Cleopatra?you were nevir born for seclusion. A kind Provilence surely sent you to fill the vacuum nade by a schoolmate of mine who ately occupied this room, but was luddenly called to Canada by the leath of a relative. Ah, is it not deightful that papa has come from the vest at last? Of course, he Is even nore of a stranger to you than to me. >Ve are both motherless, and both have Ived, I suspect, lonely lives. I am iure that, like myself, you have longid unspeakably for papa." Esther's face changed. Had not this ather deceived her continuously conlernlng his situation, his occupation? iven his name? Had he not drawn a harp line of dirrerence Deiween ner ind the child of his second marriage? "No," she answered, sternly; "he is, ndeed, a stranger to me. I never knew lim and I never loved him." "Oh, you cannot mean that!" said dignon, greatly shocked. "I do?I do!" protested Esther, rloomlly. "You are sweet and gentle tnd amiable; but I, by nature, am a vicked, heartless creature. Don't itart. I shall not harm you. Neither," vlth a half sob, "could I dislike you if tried." Mignon went straight up to the mndsome, desolate creature and kiss d her. "You will have to love me, Esther? I shall give you no peace till you do." Then she ran and drew the curtains acrosd the windows and arranged the night lamp. "I must say no more to you tonight dear, because you are tired and homesick and out of spirits. My room Is next to yours. Maud Loftus liked to be near me even when sleeping?perhaps you may like it, too." Esther grew rigid from head to foot. "What name is that?" she gasped. "Of whom are you talking?" "The Canadian schoolmate that I mentioned Just now," answered Mlgnon; "Maud Loftus, my dearest friend. She spent several weeks at Rookwood after we graduated together." Esther cast a wild, hunted look around the chamber. "What! she has been here?here? And he?her lover"? She paused as If choking. "I have never met Mr. Fleetwood," cried Mlgnon, in amazement. "Yes, he is her lover?they have been engaged since childhood. She is to marry him at Tamarack Hall. Dearest Esther, Is It possible that you know If n nr) 9 XTrv nonnAf Kn Kilf /In tl fit i?iauvi . A*v/, iiiav watiuui uv, wuv v?v **v? answer?you are frightfully pale?go at once to bed. You can explain all this some other time." So here, in this strange, for-off Rookwood, her ghastly sin, her unspeakable sorrow leaped up fresh before her. At sound of Fleetwood's name, her heart seemed to stop beating. She stared at Mignon, with a face like death. "Oh, my hands!" she screamed out, suddenly. "Look at my hands! They are red?red with blood!" And, swaying helplessly backward, Esther fell, senseless as stone, to the floor of the chamber. (To be Continued). pis?ltanrou$ feuding. PREVENTABLE DI8EASES. There Should Be Cleanliness and 0rdi- j nary Care. The insects which infest human habitations have for a long time been supposed to be the carriers of the infective agents of certain diseases. Only since the demonstration by Ross in 1897, that mosquitoes convey the infective agents of malaria that this suspicion has been firmly established. Reed, In 1900 discovered by experiments made in Havana, that the mosquito conveys the infective agent of yellow fever. The way to prevent these diseases Is very obvious; exterminate the mosquito. It Is not practicable to exterminate them entirely, though much can be done by drainage, and by pouring kerosene oil on stagnant water, fumigating rooms thoroughly by burning sulphur will get rid of them for a short time. One should use a good mosquito net. Experiments have shown that flies convey typhoid fever germs. Kitchens and dining rooms should be so perfectly screened that not one fly could be admitted. Other sources of typhoid are Impure water, milk, etc. Typhoid fever is contagious, but by the proper use of disinfectants In the room of one ill of this disease will destroy the Infective agent almost entirely, and prevent the disease from spreading. Koch In 1881, discovered the germ, which causes consumption. This useful discovery enables us to prevent the spread of this disease. If one who has consumption spits on the sidewalk or In a car, the sputum dries, and we Inhale the germs In the dust. The disease is communicated from the diseased to the healthy In this way. Fortunately many persons are Immune and inhale germs, which do not "take." One who has consumption should expectorate In a spittoon which contains an antiseptic or the sputum should be burned. This precaution will prevent the spread of consumption. The seats of cars should be covered with linen slips, or some material which can be sterilized by boiling and frequent changes should be made. Contagious diseases are liable to be contracted in cars, which have not been properly disinfected. Dust is the harbinger of disease. To 'dust' as usually practiced, merely means to distribute dust more equally over a room. The only way to remove dust is to wipe everything with a damp cloth. And all furniture ought to be so made that It can be wiped with a damp cloth without Injury. In private houses cases of purulent opthalmia, ending In blindness have been known to occur from the use of a soiled towel by another member of the family. If the surgeon were to disregard dust and not sterilize his field of operations he would indeed get poor results. He too well knows that the germs which cause suflfruation are in dust. A dirty carpet literally Infects the room. The best floor is some non-absorbent material, or wood with oil paint over which a new coating could occasionally be applied. The same is true of walls. The walls if plastered can be kept safe by frequent lime-washing. Furniture should be of polished wood, metal or marble from which dust can be easily removed. Curtains should, if used, be of material which can be sterilized by boiling. Thorough ventilation is essential for a healthful room. Bed clothing should be of material every particle of which may be sterilized. This may be done by either dry or moist heat. Heat is the best unri i? thp eheanest disinfectant, it destroys all disease germs.?Dr. B. F. Rea, In Lafayette (Tenn.) Sun. The Marvel of Distance.?The distance to the nearest fixed star Is so tremendous that, like many of the facts of astronomy. It is beyond the grasp of the human imagination, though not beyond the reach of mathematical demonstration. Light, which travels at a speed of 186,000 miles In a single second of time, takes over four years to reach us from the nearest star. The thread spun by a spider is so excessively fine that a pound of It would be long enough to reach around the earth. It would take ten pounds of it to reach to the moon and over 3,000 pounds to stretch to the sun. But to get a thread long enough to reach the nearest star would require half a million tons. If a railroad could be built to this star and the fare fixed at a cent a mile the total cost of the Journey would be 1250,000,000,000, or more than sixty times the whole amount of coined gold in the world. THE HEMPHILL BOOM. Northern Newspaper Pays Tribute t? Able South Carolinian. Three men are recognized leaden beyond others in the press of the south They are Henry Watterson of the Louisville Courier-Journal, Clark Howell of the Atlanta Constitution, and James C. Hemphill of the Charleston News and Courier. Col. Watterson has never held political office, but has rathet declined all propositions involving nnhllp station. Mr. Howell has been Ilong among the leading politicians and statesmen of Georgia, both as editor of the newspaper first made famous by the unrivaled brilliancy of the late Henry Grady and as a member of the legislature and presiding officer In turn In both branches of that body, and also as lieutenant governor. Major Hemphill has followed until this time the example of Col. Watterson in abstaining from public office, but his friends have taken the business in their own hands and are making great progress In a campaign in his behalf for the seat In the United States senate now held by Senator Latimer, whose term expires with the present congress In 1909. Of his eminent fitness for that great office there is no room for doubt. His work for twenty years as the directing mind and chief editorial writer of the News and Courier has been of so admirable a character In breadth of view, soundness of argument from his premises, and energy of statement, as to have made him the most Influential man in his state for the welfare of South Carolina. Major Hemphill has nature's sift ol a superb personal presence and that rare finish of manner which has beer characteristic for generations of tht finest type of the southern gentlemen He has added to the collegiate training of his youth the further advantages of continual contact with public men and close acquaintance with pubHe affairs. He has acquired the wisdom of years while his eye Is not dimmed nor his natural force abated. He will not resort to the pitchfork as a weapon of offense against the president to the lasting Injury of the state and her loss of Influence which really belongs to her though represented by a senator opposed in politics to the national executive. Most of the public business Is done with small regard for political points. Reasonable men in the senate can do well for their states though not of the majority on party questions. If Major Hemphill Is elected he will fill the position so ably and yet with such urbanity of temper and manner as to repeat the proud days of the Palmetto state and regain for it that degree of nnA ?rvTt?At? YTrVi loVi fha AM Anm. I cnpcvi anu pvffci tt 44ivii viio v.v* ??... monwealth has Justly enjoyed for generations.?Buffalo, N. Y., News. SECRETS OF SUCCE83. Advice to Young Men Based Upon Experience. Judged by results, the tendency of novelties In what is called popular education of the day Is subversive of the habits that make for happiness and success In life. The rising generation seems to be steadily losing the sense of personal responsibility, the power of Initiative and the Instinct to work In the joy of accomplishment. Here and there In the country men who have succeeded In life through their own efforts are moved to condense from their own experience certain suggestions as to conduct which may be heeded only with profit and pleasure by the young men of the country, and. as for that, by the young women, too, in this day of participation by women in the hurly-burly of business. One of these benefactors of their race Is Mr. Stephen W. White of Philadelphia, the secretary of the Northern Central Railway company. A few months ago the Manufacturer's Record called attention to an address he had made In Philadelphia to a body of young folks?an address full of sound sense and of advice based upon an active business life of forty-odd vears. Of like purpose is an address delivered by him more recently before the Employment Club of Philadelphia. The address Is so full of meat that the Manufacturers' Record quotes from It to some extent. Speaking to Individuals about to enlist in the great army I r\t woo-n no mora Mr Whitp flflld thflt the employer locks for sincere and willing service?that Is, a readiness to do whatever is asked to be done, it being taken for granted that no rightminded employer would ask his employe to do anything that was wrong or to sacrifice his manliness, and as a corollary that the employe, keeping in mind the highest interests of his employer, as well as of himself, will furnish the very best that he has to give, both of physical and mental ability, and should put into that giving such a measure of honest, sincere endeavor as well make his effort earnest and thorough, whether he is being directly superintended or not, whether the master is present or not. With that broad principle in view, Mr. White elaborated the following rules: "1. Endeavor as far as possible to secure a position which you think will accord with your tastes, because we are apt to do that thing In business best which we like best to do. "2. Having obtained a position, let nothing divert you from making yourself familiar with its duties, so that in time you shall become essential to your employer and be able to obialn that Increase In your compensation to which your added sklllfulness entitles you. "3. Do not perform your duties mechanically. Think. Study your employer's methods. See where you can perchance Improve them. Gain his confidence, and faithful work will do it, for employers are not all the hard taskmasters that the grumblers make them out to be. When you are assured that you have found your way Into his confidence, then make the suggestions that have occurred to you, and in the vast majority of instances you will find not only are they accepted, but that your value in his eyes has increased, and in time it will bring the desired reward. "4. How many have I seen grow old In business life without any apparent advance, either in position or compensation. Sometimes you will hear them complain, sometimes not. What is the cause of this stagnation? They have never learned to know what has * ? n 'nnKla ^ I onnn _ ueeii upuy icuucu a uuwi? tent.' Satisfied with a fairly comfortable position, not too hard or driving, and not requiring any special mental application, and accompanied by mod* > erate pay, they go on to the end of their lives, and leave this world, i scarcely causing a ripple on the great . sea of existence. "6. My next point Is a very old I one, and yet it will do no harm to i bring It to mind once more. In the i very beginning of your business career do not be too close observer of > the clock. Do not be afraid to arrive > at the office or store a few minutes (before the prescribed hour, and do not put on your hat and coat so as to i leave at tne very minute nxea tor ciu? ing. Emergencies arise in all lines t of business when the hours may have > to be prolonged somewhat, and the i young man who reluctantly stays, or > declines to stay, is not the one who is likely to be retained, much less to be I advanced. "6. Endeavor to maintain a cheer, ful demeanor under all circumstances, i Tour employer, you may think, Is > cranky at times, but you cannot ali ways know the heavy load of responi sibllitles he often has to carry, and (t, for this reason, he should at times be ; irritable, try to bear with him. Of , course, you are not required to sur, render your manhood or your inde pendence or anything which trans gresses the bounds of morality. Even the man who seems to expect it from you will most frequently recede from > his demands when he finds you immovable in your stand for the right. , "In the first of these points I have > told you to endeavor to get a position in accord with your tastes. But it is i. -1 ikU rruAn 1 nui always pusuiuio. men maim un> best of what you do And, bide your , time until the desired thing arrives. , and it may be that the discipline of working at something that is partially distasteful to you may prove In the long run to be of the highest benefit." TO DRAIN THE EVERGLADE8. Vast Area of 8wamp Land In Florida , to Be Reclaimed. To save and use some 6,000,000 or 7,000,000 acres of land, which haa been ! supposed to be waste and which has been given over to reptiles and wild animals, is the project which the governor of Florida and certain of the state's capitalists have undertaken. The famous Everglades are to be drained, in fact?and a vast area of ! land which has been lost to the use of men, much of which has been over* flowed with water and thousands of thousands of acres of which are almost impassable swamp, are to be brought under cultivation. Florida is , to become a much more wonderful > state even than It has been heretofore and that means a good deal. A. B. Clark In an Interesting article in the Technical World Magazine explains the difficulties in the way of saving this immense acreage and the benefits which will accrue to the state from the carrying out of the enters prise. "The importance of this Immense undertaking can with difficulty be comprehended," says the writer. 'It is estimated In figures which can scarcely be understood by the ordinary mind. The reclamation of this land means the addition to Florida of nearly as much cultivated land as she now has. It will mean the throwing open to cultivation of an area twice as large as the state of Connecticut. "It means that Florida will become the sugar-producing state of the Union and that for her sugar products the 9150,000,000 will be paid which is now annually sent abroad for imported sugar, an amount expended for an import which exceeds by several million uuiiuis me vaiue ui uur uiiiku n|n/iu of corn, wheat, flour, beef and naval stores. It means that Florida will In a few years become one of the richest and most important states in the Union." CLEVER, BUT TROUBLESOME. Characteristics of the Red Ants That Invade the Pantry. The small red ant, the pest of the pantry In country or town, Is as clever as she Is bothersome, says a writer In the New York Tribune. Many a time a despairing housewife has marked a path around the legs of tables or refrigerators, to And next day that the engineering corps had brought grains of sand to build a bridge over the tar and that the workers were merrily carrying off the sugar, syrup, or whatever they had decided to store away for winter. Once, when sand was lacking, it was found that the workers had returned to their village and had brought over a drove of their cows and had stuck them in the tax, cheerfully sacrificing them to the urgent needs of commerce. Learning that chalk lines drawn on the floor would keep the ants away, the acid In the chalk being too strong Ihs aanaltivn nnt nnu> ft mAn nnOfl drew a thick line around a party of ants that was foraging across his kitchen floor. He kept them several days, as none would cross the line. Finally, feeling sorry for them, he chopped up some flne grass and dropped it in the circle, that they might eat and keep them from starving. Eat? Not they. They simply seized the bits of grass, bore them, piece by piece to the chalk line, built a pyramid and when it was high enough, pushed it over the line, thus making a green bridge over which the prisoners triumphantly passed. tv An extraordinary curiosity, says London Sphere, is to be seen in the village of Gunten on the Thun Lake, which takes the form of a natural tree fountain, the water flowing continuously, apparently, from the trunk of the living tree, and shows the wonderful vitality of cut wood. About twenty years ago the water of the spring was conducted through a shaft, and the supply pipe was directed through the cut trunk of a young poplar tree which was rammed in the ground. After a short time it became patent that the trunk had struck root, and branches were pushing themselves well forward; at the present time a splendid top growth Is to be seen. The pipe and tree have become inseparable. *3" The District of Columbia has the greatest population per square mile of nnv other section of this country. The fighters are slightly more than 3.839. In Alaska there is only one person per ten square miles. Rhode Island is second to Washington, with 407 persons per square mile.