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- KING'S Mi * Story of the St< FAMOUS GROU First Memorial Erected b: and Citizens of Sc National Governmei ^ By Hon. D. E. Pinley, M. C. The monument now being completed 1b the fifth that has been erected at various times on the historic battlefield . of King's Mountain. In 1815, Dr. Wm. McLean, a dlstin guitbed citizen 01 uiicomiuu miuiV, North Carolina, erected an unpretentious monument The only names on the monument are those of Major Wm. Chronicle, Captain John Mattocks, Wm. Robb and John Boyd. These are on the east side of the monument On the west side the name of Col. Ferguson appears with a statement that'"He was an officer of the English Crown, I r I OLD MOr This is what is commonly known i by Dr. William McLean of Lincoln co of a gathering held for the purpose of had been lying scattered over the mo m yea re before. The inscription on this all but Illegible, was as follows: East fF Jor William Chronicle, Captain John M who were killed at this place on the fense of America." On the west side? M Britannic majesty, was defeated and tober, 1780. and was defeated and killed here, October 7th, 1780." In 1880, the King's Mountain Battleground association erected on the battlefield a more pretentious monument. This association was made up of distinguished and patriotic citizens of North and South Carolina, and the cost of the monument was defrayed by voluntary contributions in the two states, and one thousand dollars appropriated . by the legislature of North Carolina, and one thousand dollars by the legislature of South Carolina. This association acquired title to the battlefield, containing about forty acres of I land. ^ Later on. Major A. H. White of Rock Hill, S. C., at his own expense, erected a square granite pillor to mark the place where Ferguson fell, and also provided a similar stone to mark the ^ place where Ferguson was buried. ine iiioiui y ui me jji vovtiv ...w-. ment, briefly stated, is that at sometime prior to 1903, one or more of the members of the King's Mountain Chapter D. A. R., of Yorkvllle, S. C., disK cussed with me the probability of securing favorable action by congress looking to the erection of a monument to mark in a suitable way the battlefield of King's Mountain. The old King's Mountain Battleground association had become disorganized and it was necessary that the same be reorganized in order to perfect the title. The late Judge I. D. i Wltherspoon, one of the two or| three survivors, took this matter in charge, and the reorganization as carried out embraces in its membership the membership of the # King's Mountain Chapter D. A. R., of Yorkvllle, S. C., the owners of the bat.tlefleld at this time. At the first session of the 58th congress, after consultation with Representative E. Y. Webb of North Carolina, who has always been greatly interested in all that pertains to the h'story of this most important battle, on February the 8th, we prepared and Introduced identical bills In the house of representatives. The bill introduced by me is numbered 11908. the one introduced by Mr. Webb is numbered 11959. Mr. Speaker Canv non, while always friendly, could not see his way clear at that time to let the measure pass. So that nothing came of these bills in the 58th congress. In December 1905, the first session of the 59th congress, identical bills were Introduced by Representative Webb and myself. At the same time there was pending in the house, two other bills. One for the erection of a monument on the battlefield of Princeton, in the state of New Jersey, and the other, a bill to provide a suitable memorial of the landing of the Pilgrims on Cape Cod. Speaker Cannon, after being importuned by the advocates of the three bills, finally promised that he would let these three bills pass. When I was asked by a member of the committee as to whether I wished the bill Introduced by me. which was identical with that Introduced by Mr. Webb, to be reported, I stated that Mr. Webb and myself were WNTAIN M )nes Commemoral Victory of 1780. ND APPROPR1A j Private Citizen, the Sec >uth and North Carolina, at?Also Tablets by a Priv Jointly interested and had worked together, and while I had the right to have the bill introduced by ipe reported, for the reason that the battlefield proper, was over the line in South Carolina, yet in order to be entirely fair, I suggested that the committee report a bill in the nature of a substitute for the bill introduced by Mr. Webb, and the one introduced by me. Accoidingly this was done, and Representative Thomas of North Carolina, a I member of the committee on the library, made the report, April 10th, 1906. The bill as reported carried thirty 4UMENT. is the Old Monument. It was erected unty, N. C., in 1815, on the occasion burying British and Tory bones that untaln since the battle of thlrty-flve monument, now so defaced as to be side?"Sacred to the memory of Maattocks, William Rabb and John Boyd, 7th of October, 1780, fighting in de"Colonel Ferguson, an officer of his killed at this nlaep on thp 7th of Oc thousand dollars. The three bills mentioned were passed by unanimous consent at the first session of the 59th congress. The bill for King's Mountain was called up by Mr. Webb. King's Mountain battle-ground is an ideal spot for the conflict that took place there on the 7th of October, 1780. The mountain range is some ten or twelve miles long, and at the battlefield is probably not more than fifty to seventy-five feet above the surrounding country. Col. Patrick Ferguson, a brave and heroic fighter, hard pressed by Campbell and the American patriots, selected this spot, and sent the following message to Lord Cornwallis, the British commander, then stationed at Charlotte, North Carolina, about twenty-five miles away. "I have taken my position on the King's Mountain, and all of the rebels this side of hell cannot dislodge me or prevail against me." This is the answer returned to Lord Cornwallis by Col. Ferguson, In replying to the inquiry of Lord Cornwallis, as to his whereabouts. "I have taken my position on the King's Mountain." There can be no doubt that the beautiful mountain range, crowned WHERE FERC This is a square granite pillar, i Fell," across, the beveled top. This 1 White of Rock Hill, on his own initial also provided a similar stone to mark This stone is lying on the ground; bi ONUMENTS ive of the Great > TELY MARKED ond by the Governments and the Third by the ate Citizen. here and there with its valleys and ravines, with Its beautiful woodland slopes, with here and there the beautiful sparkling waters gushing from the sides of the mountain, suggested to Patrick Ferguson that Indeed this was the King's Mountain. The name "King's Mountain" remains along with the history and traditions of that wonderful struggle, which took place on October 7th, 1780, between the British forces and their Tory allies, and the patriot American citizens, struggling for their independence and laying deep in blood the foundation of the great republic to be built upon their efforts; and today set upon the crest of the King's Mountain, stands to commemorate the memory of Col. Campbell and his brave followers, a beautiful monument erected through the efforts of the patriotic sons and daughters of the republic, who represent the aspiring hope of the American republic. But greater still stands the magnificent granite shaft Just completed by the United States government, as a mark of appreciation and commemorative of the memory of those brave, men and of their deeds of valor, lifting its head to the clouds and DasKing in me suniignt 01 uoeny. iu maasiveness and beauty of architecture, combined with a rugged scenery of mountain range and broken country, Is Impressive and emphatic in the recognition of the worth and valor ftf the brave men to whose memory it is erected, and deeply impressive of wonderful significance and potent power of the victory achieved by American patriots. The monument stands four square to the winds that blow. The foundation laid deep in the sacred soil once bathed in blood, and even now entombing the bones of those who laid down their lives as a willing sacrifice upon their young country's altar. The foundation, a perfect cube, 24 feet each way, is laid In the solid rock foundation of the ledge, which supports the mountains. The base, 13J feet each way, is of beautiful granite, and upon it is surmounted the massive, but yet, beautiful and symmetric shaft, 84 feet and 4 inches high, crowned with a copper and platinum plate. On the east face, cast in bronze, and set between two reclining figures, beautifully sculptured J in the solid granite, bearing the palms of victory, is a tablet containing the names of those, whose life's blood made possible this great victory; and they areas follows: East Panel: J'Kllled?Col. James Williams, Major wm. cnromcie, uapi. Wm. Edmundson, Capt. Jno. Mattocks, 1st. Lieut. Wm. Blackburn, 1st Lieut. Reege Brown, 1st Lieut. Robt. Edmundson, Jr., 2nd. Lleuts. John Beatle, James Carry. Nathaniel Dryden, Andrew Edmundson, Humberson Lyon,* Nathaniel Aist, James Phillips, Privates John Blknell, John Boyd, John Brown, David Duff, Preston Goforth, Henry Henigar, Michael Mahoney, Arthur Patterson, Wm. Rabb, John Smart, David Sisle, Wm. Steele, Wm. Watson, Unknown." "Mortally Wounded?Capt. Robt Sevier, 1st Lieut. Thos. McCullough, 2nd Lieut James Laird, Private Moses Henry." "Wounded?Lieut Col. Frederick Hambright, Major Mlclan Lewis, Major James Porter, Captains James Dysart, Sam'l Estey, Wm. Lenoir, Joel Lewis, Moses Shelby, Minor Smith, 1st Lieuts. Robt Edmundson, Jr., Samuel Johnson, Samuel Newell, J. M. Smith, Privates Benoni Danning, Wm. Bradley, Wm. Bullen, Jno. Childers, John Chittem, Wm. Cox, John Fagon, Fredlc Fisher, Wm. Giles, Gilleland, Wm. Gilmer, Chas. Gordan, Israel Hatter, Robt. Henry, Lenoard Hyce, Jas. Kilcor, Robt. Miller, Wm. Moore, Patrick Murphey, Wm. Robertson, Jno. Skeggs, Thirty-six unknown." North Panel: On the north side, the beautiful bronze tablet bearing the following inscription: "To Commemorate the victory of King's Mountain, October 7th, 1780, erected by the government of the United States to the establishment of which heroism and Datriotism of those who participated in this battle so largely contributed." South Panel: On the south, the beautiful bronze tablet containing an Inscription in beautiful and well chosen words commemorative of the valor and aUSON FELL. .vith the Inscription, "Here Ferguson tvas erected the late Major A. H. ;ive, and at his personal expense. He the spot where Ferguson was buried, it has never been placed in position. I patriotism of those engaged in this ' great struggle: "On this field the patriot forces commanded by Col. Wm. Campbell, attacked and totally defeated an equal force of Tories and British Regular Troops. The British Commander, Col. Patrick Ferguson, was killed and his entire force was captured after serving heavy loss. This brilliant victory marked the turning point ? of the American Revolution." West Panel: On the west side, a beautiful bronze tablet, perpetuating the history of the commanders of the forces, and the localities from which their brave followers were assembled: and the commanders of each: "American forces, where organized J "Washington county, Virginia, Col. j Wm. Campbell. " wasmngton county, xx. v;., u'"" Tennessee), Col. Jno. Sevier. "Sullivan county, N. C., Col. Isaac \ Shelby. -t "Ninety-Six district, S. C., and Rowan county, N. C., Col. Jas. Williams. ' "Wilkes and Surrey counties, N. C., a Col. Benjamin Cleveland and Major t Joseph Winston. "Lincoln county, N. C.. Lieut. Col. Frederick Hambrlght and Major Wm. f Chronicle. "\ "Burke and Rutherfordton counties, v N. C., Major Joseph McDowell. "York and Chester counties, S. C., 6 (then part of Camden district), Col. u Edward Lacy and Col. William Hill. s "Georgia, Major Wm. Candler. "Reserves: Col. Jas Johnson. "Note: Col. Chas. McDowell, the regular commander of .the Burke and t Rutherfordton county regiment, was b absent from the battle on a special mission to General Gates. "British forces?Commanders: Ma ? . - - a Jor Patrick Ferguson (K.), capt. ADra- ham De Peyster." d This beautiful structure Is erected t almost to the Immediate south of the s spot upon which the fearless warrior h and loyal British subject fell mortally wounded, and where he died. The h grave is marked by a granite tablet, bearing the inscription: "Here Col. v Ferguson fell." h To the northeast of the monument c in a beautiful ravine, we And a sunk- h en place clearly the grave of some departed warrior, and erected here we 1; And a granite slab, bearing this in- " scriptlon: "Here Col. Ferguson was burled." This marble shaft commemorative of t the heroism and patriotism of the he- t roes of King's Mountain, speaks the oil Hmo a UttUUil ? LU U1C111 1UI Ull L1111L.. j ; The above la a reproduction of a British troops were huddled at the clo the hill. VIEWS ON MARRIAGE. g Men's Opinions Do Not Always Coincide. n Four men sat lighting their cigars in the attitude of physical comfort and mental dejection that follow the exodus of the women from the din- e lng room wherever that custom, relic of a deep-drinking generation is kept f< up. The dinner talk had been bril- P liant enough to do credit to the hos- b tess. It had wound up on the brink tl of matrimony. d "Of course, no man is quite a man p until he's a married man," said one of the men with the license of the S newly wed. A "He never knows till then what a t< man he might have been," corrected an old bachelor. h "The influence of woman Is necessary to the highest development of a a man's character," continued the oth- si er. a "The country is evidently In dan- tl ger," said a callow youth. ti "Precisely," agreed the bachelor, p "The greatest sacrifice of marriage Is rl the loss of one's women friends." "One by one my woman friends w have offered up my friendship on P their matrimonial altars," continued nthe bachelor. "We have had Interests lc In common, one of the arts or sciences, a common object In life, lc friendship; in fact, but those finest of a human links have snapped one by ^ one. Her husbana, say, is too busy a man to be merely cultivated. To 0 see much of her while he is there h would embarrass the neighborhood w with unnecessary gossip. Friendship is such a delicate thing that It is A oulcklv stifled under the mantle of d discretion when It does not die outright. That piece of Mendelssohn ^ should be called the funeral march of friendship." 'c "But is not the entire possession 01 of one woman recompense enough for ,] the capricious friendship of many?" p| asked the other. "Marriage has already made you tl cynical," replied the bachelor. I "Possession," snorted the callow youth; "that's what queers the whole ^ business." le "To suggest that a wife is her husband's property Is a remark that tj should not be made except In the pres- . ence of ladles, where It may be corrected," said the old bachelor. "That's about all marriage Is," add- ir eu tne youtn. n "It is more than that," put in the host, and added: " "Shall we join the ladles? Possibly A they may have something: to say on t( the subject." While they were depositing their half-smoked cigars, dusting the w specks of tobacco ash from their coats and settling the hang of their clothes with that show of Indifference unknown to the more honest variety of women, there came a little cry nfrom the upper regions. It was re- s peated, a thin, wailing, querulous t voice, followed by a hurried rustling of skirts up the stairs. Three of the al men dropped their eyes. The other ai smiled. They crossed into the drawIng room, where three women sat back with a look of listening on their 111 faces. "We were just trying to persuade a< Miss Talenthead to play for us," said a a f a ?v\ mitVi a rt aaii vol n rr IUIIC ui iii^uii v* itxi mi CIIVUUI 51115 1 smile.?Kansas City Times. |ta m bir By ETTA UIIIMyMMHAMkAIMftMIMIMiMftMM CHAPTER XV. A loud, quick step. The door of th vainscoted dining room opened. Serl farneck, splashed and dripping wlti lis walk from the station and fagge< ind ruffled in look, stood upon th hreshold. On one side of the hearth, clearei or once of its troop of dogs, sat Mm farneck, solacing her mortal fram vlth an after-dinner nap. On the oth r, neither very sweet nor fair to loo] ipon sulked her niece Lucy, a llttl our, a little moody, after the event f the day. Varneck's large blue eyes roamei he room In search of a third partj >ut in vain. No one else was present "Dear me," cried Mrs. Varneck, wak ng suddenly out of her nap to star t the silent, motionless giant in th< oor; "is that you, Serle? We begat o fear you would not return tonight, uppose you hardly expected to And u ere?" He advanced and gave his hand t lis mother and to his betrothed. "Certainly I did. I called to dim vith you in town, and was told yoi iad Just left for Beechwood. Wha an have Induced you two to com iere on a day like this?" "You shall have our reasons direct V," answered Mrs. Varneck, drylj Have you dined, then?" "Long ago." Hia eyes for the second time swep he room and then returned to th aces of his two kinswomen. "Where is Miss Arnault?" he aske< hortly. KING'S MOUNT/ i photograph view made by Ae late J >se of the battle, as the same then i The two pairs of light-blue eyes re arded him with a frigid stare. "She has gone," answered Lucy Var eck. He gave a sudden start. "Gone! Not left Beechwood, surely?' "She has left Beechwood," pronounc d his betrothed, with emphasis. Mrs. Varneck rose as If preparini or battle. So, also, did Lucy. Never erhaps, had Serle Varneck seen hi! etrothed at a greater dlsadvantagi son aa oho nnw stood. her nose red' ened with the heat, her plain, thli erson bristling with hostility. "Will you kindly inform me," sal< erle, in a high, harsh voice, "hov iiss Arnault came to leave Beechwoo< Jday; also, where she has gone?" Mrs. Varneck began to fumble foi er smelling salts. "To her own people, I presume," sh< nswered, hysterically; "where els< hould she go? I never saw so bolt creature! She went because I menoned to her that Lucy was your be"othed wife. Serle, I demand an exlanatlon; it is my right?it is Lucy'i ight!" Serle flung off his hat and cloal lth something like a muttered oath lis blonde face?a superb improvelent on his mother's?wore a certalr ?ok which that lady did not like. "What have you done?" he cried >oklng from her face to Lucy's. "Sent guest of mind, a young, conventred girl, at that, who knows no.mort f the world than a baby, out of m> ouse on a day like this to And hei ay to her friends as best she can' t what hour did she go? What train Id she take?" "I really do not know," answered Irs. Varneck, coldly; "no, nor care! ] >ok upon the whole thing as a plect f disgraceful folly?do you hear?? isgraceful folly! I have not been sr Lit to the heart since your affair witn lat dreadful little actress. Why, may ask, did you never mention the girl's resence here "in your not over-warm 'iicia iu . He colored and his eyes assumed ie snapping, steely hue peculiar tc lue eyes In anger. "Miss Arnault was not a person tc lterest Lucy," he said, dryly; "and I ever gossip of people in letters. All 1 all. perhaps, It Is fortunate that 1 nd you here tonight. I went to towr Jday to speak with you on this same latter?with Lucy, rather?and a? ell here as there." Lucy Varneck bristled visibly. "What can you possibly have to say ) me about that person r sne uelanded. "How very unkind of you, erle, to turn your house into a hosplil for bold creatures who break their rms, and go on living likfe a hermit mong dogs and things, giving people ich opportunities to talk and comilserate me!" "My dear Lucy," answered Varneck, Ivanclng a step toward her; "It is a fe which suits me admirably, disLSteful as it may be to you. Consid WWWWHUHMWWUmiilMW tiifis W. PIERCE. HI er a moment. Do you think you and I e quite suited to each other?" e Lucy Varneck immediately dropped h Into the nearest chair. (j "Aunt!" she gasped, and Mrs. Vare neck flew to her. "You cruel, cruel Serle!" she cried, d "would you break her heart?" i. Mr. Varneck, Inured to similar e scenes, exhibited no alarm. *1 do not think I have said anyk thing of a heart-breaking nature," he e answered, dryly. "I simply ask a quess tlon which closely concerns her happiness and mine. Our engagement was 3 your plan, my dear mother; It was the r> recompense which you insisted I should I make for the worry and grief I had . caused you In relation to Paulette Rale. e Lucy was not In love with me nor I e with her?as we acknowledged to you n at the time." I Lucy started quickly out of her cola lapse. "Our betrothal is more than three 0 years old," she cried, shrilly; "and now, for the first time, you hint that e we are unfit for each other. You have j been a long while making the dlscovt ery?It seems to have dawned upon e you very suddenly at last!" "True," he answered, with great . frankness. "That la, within the last three week* ?jlnce that Arnault creature's coming!" t "Exactly," replied Varneck; "since e Miss Arnault's coming." ILtuey again gave signs of tottering. ' Aunt! But no; I can bear It. Do nor. support me?I must know the UN BATTLEGROUND. f. R. Schorb about fifty years ago. It al appeared looking from the "Old Monumei - worst. Serle, you are, then, in love with that girl?" "I am deeply, tenderly in love with the lady I have Just mentioned," he answered, quietly. " Mrs. Varneck ran and cast her arms - around her niece. "Serle! To your betrothed wife, too! f And I live to hear it?to know that ; you are altogether lost to manhood, to 3 honor! The smelling salts there on i the mantel, instantly! You will be her - death!" 1 Varneck's face expressed the liveliest annoyance of which mortal visage 1 is capable. f ' MOiner, aun i rani: uc nut/iuim. 1 "Lucy, my dear cousin, hear me, like a sensible girl. You have seen Miss r Arnault. Is It altogether strange that, after three weeks' companionship un? der the same roof, I make this confes- < 5 sion?tell you that I love her, not with i 1 the absurd boyish passion I once felt 1 for 'little Paulette,' but as a conscious 1 . man ought to love the woman he . chooses from all the world. And, now, < s I ask you, Lucy, to release me from an l engagement which cannot be leas dls- < i tasteful to you than It Is to me." 1 She started out of Mrs. Varneck'a s . arms and looked at him with her cold, ' i spiteful eyes. 1 "Release you!" she answered; "give < H' W*- . .< . ... ; ; ... ? MfflnnEK *& THE CENTENNIAI Erected by appropriations from N< scriptlons from private Individuals thro North Carolina, and unveiled October 7, monument was $2,800, and the actual co ? you up to her?never!" "Lucy!" "No, never!" she repeated, clinching her hands; "after society has linked our names so long together?after the world expects you to marry me. That bold, designing creature! How dare you stand there and tell me you love her? How dare you love her when you are betrothed to me? Tou are false?cruel; but you are bound, too, and I will not free you?do you hear? I will not free you!" and she burst Into a tempest of sobs and tears. Varneck looked distracted. "Lucy, great heaven! will you listen to reason? What do you or I care about society or the world? Surely you would not marry me knowing my heart was given Irrevocably to another. Did I ever Drofess any Dasslon for you? Why, then, do you call me false?" "I care for the world?I care for society?and, she might also have added, for the Varneck fortune?"and I will never give you up to that girl!" screamed Lucy, stamping smartly on the hearth. "You shall not break faith with me?I will not release you! You do not care how my heart aches?you take It for granted I have no feeling! How do you know I may not love you as well as that white-face cat?" Serle turned In dismay to his mother. "Pray, speak to her," he cried. "Try to reduce her to reason." But Mrs. Varneck drew herself up, cold and frowning. "Lucy Is quite right," she answered; "never, with my consent, shall she withdraw from the engagement. I urged It In the beginning for your mutual happiness; hers, at least, still depends on It I blush for you, Serle. You know my heart is set upon this match. Never speak of that girl to either of us again. I forbid It!" With that Mrs. Varneck swooned In the nearest chair. This was the signal for Lucy to fling out her arms, murmuring faintly, "Deceiver!" and then relapse Into unconsciousness upon the hearth rug. Varneck rushed to the bell and gave It a frightful peal. . L\. v HBBHRHHH . BHUIBMI lows the craggy knoll on which the it," near the branch at the foot of "Patty!" he roared, "Mrs. Hare! Barney! Where are you all?" And then, as the frightened household appeared. "Take care of these, will you? Both In a faint, as usual," and be delivered Lucy Into the arms of Mrs. Hare and strode out of the room. In the general confusion Patty ran after him and touched his arm. "She left a message for you, sir," she whispered. "She said, 'Tell him I am grateful for his kindness, and he has my best wishes for his future happiness.' And, sir, she went alone." Varneck burst into a bitter laugh. "Did she say that? And the last train is now gone and I cannot follow her. Why did you not keep her here : till I returned? Sibyl! Sibyl!" He walked the hall In keen anguish. "They'd been talking to her in the 1 dining room," said Patty, "and she was ' that wild that nobody could have kept her. It's likely she's at Hammerton 1 by this time. Varneck went to a window at the ' end of the hall and looked forth. The * night was dark and starless. The ' wet still dripped monotonously from 1 the evergreens. His face was white and 1 set. Did she believe him a villain? Where was she at that moment? With 1 tier mysterious mother, or?no! he ' :ould think of no other contingency. ^ 1 rlBTHIPTiii ifl h ii ^^^T^o8B[ h EslBS^HfciL. 3 L MONUMENT. [ n orth and South Carolina and subughout York County, South and 1880. The contract price of this , st was $2,860. s: Should he mount hors* a* his heart prompted, fly to her. at once and explain all? But Lucy Varneck? "Sibyl!" he groaned again, in unutterable perplexity and anguish of spirit; "Sibyl! oh, my darling!" And at that same moment, far away in the wet and gloom of the night, she whose name he called was Just approaching the presence of the mother of whom she had conjectured and dreamed so much. "Here we are," announced Rebecca Hardin, as the carriage which had brought them from the last station rolled through a gateway; and Sibyl looked forth and saw the dim outlines of a high garden wall and graystone gottage, burled, as it seemed, among shrubbery. She heard the wash, wash of water somewhere near. "What Is that?" she asked, quickly. "It Is the sea," answered the hardfeatured nurse. "The sea! How familiar it sounds! And yet I can never have heard it before, for there was no sea at St. Catharine's." They rolled up to a porch overrun with blossoming creepers, and Rebecca Hardin and Sibyl alighted together. The heart of the latter rose In her throat and seemed stifling her. "Will you take me directly to my mother?" she stammered; "or must I wait?" Rebecca dismissed the carriage, drew her into the porch and rang the bell sharply. "It is very likely she is expecting you," she answered and as the middleaged servant opened the door she led the way Into a hall lighted only by a lamp the latter carried and ushered Sibyl into a small, dark drawing-room. "Walt here till I go and announce you," said Rebecca Hardin, and placed the lamp on the mantel and departed. Left alone, the leaden weight in Sibyl's bosom which answered for a heart seemed to crow heavier still. She sat down In the lonely room, flung back her veil and looked around. Strip* of drugget overlaid the faded velvet carpet The furniture was closely covered. Handsome enough in themselves, all times had an air of disuse extremely comfortless. "My mother never comes . here, I know," thought SlbyL* "My mother! Is it possible I am under the same roof with her at last?" She waited. The house was very still. She could bear nothing but the wash, wash of the sea without Presently a footstep approached the door; it opened and Rebecca Hardin beckoned her forth. "Follow me," she said. , Up a winding stair they went The hard-faced nurse opened another door at its top and Sibyl glided through and found herself standing, pale, breathless, wild eyed, in the presence of her mother. bne sat in an invalid chair before a Are, wrapped in a dressing-gown of gray, quilted silk?a pale, beautiful woman, looking older than her years, with a wasted, colorless face, lighted by eyes of deepest sorrowful black, shadowed by black hair, streaked thick with gray. With a pang of keen disappointment Sibyl looked at her and thought of the fair-haired vision of her early dreams. "This is the' child," said Rebecca Hardin. The invalid started up, but sank back again among her cushions. Mother and daughter surveyed each other in silence. What did the pale, sadfaced woman think of that tall, glorious girl? What did the girt think of the sad, sick woman? Rebecca, behind the Invalid chair, looked from each to each wild Keen curiosity. "Ton would never have known her, mistress," she said, dryly. "Never," answered the invalid, in a sweet, complaining voice, and held out her hand mechanically to the waiting glrL Sibyl took it in her own. It wa/s cold and bloodless. Her heart seemed turning to stone. No thrill stirred it at the touch of this mother who for sixteen years had been to her a shadow and a name. "Rebecca," said the invalid, waving Sibyl to a seat, "I think she is like me, and very unlike what we expected to find her?eh?" "Very," answered the hard-featured woman. "And now that you have brought her here"?querulously?"I wft you, Rebecca, what is to be done with her?" "In the first place, mistress, as she looka very pale and worn, let us give her some'tea." "Very well," said the Invalid, and Cell back In her chair and closed her hollow eyes. Rebecca ran* the bell. When the tea tray appeared Mrs. Arnault started up again. "Were they kind to you at St Catharine's?" she said to SlbyL "Yes; for you used to tell me that In your letters. And how was It at this place sailed Beech wood? Rebecca says you bad left the house before she reached It?you were on your way, in spite of ray letter, afoot alone, to find ma" "True," answered Sibyl, who began to feel like a stranger In a strange and "i could stav there no longer. I would not have stayed had my life seen the forfeit! I could not see why [ might not venture to oome here?to ny own home, to my mother." The person mentioned moved uneasly in her chair. "You seem to be a very remarkable rirl?does she not, Rebecca?" "She does, mistress," monotonously mswered Rebecca. "Your home, Sibyl, is but a dull "i" " ontiHnnoH thn invalid, "and I am ilways 111 and can seldom see you. We lve In great seclusion. I have known rightful sorrows?r have lost?Rebec* a, hold me!" The person so constantly appealed o sefzed her mistress In her two stout irms. There's a clock going in my head onight, Rebecca. No; I will not tell ler?I will be calm. It was you who momn a# QiKvl u/Q 3 (t ,a v u iici lite naui? V4 uim/ ?? lot? I remember?the very morning ou carried her off to St. Catharine's." "Yes, yes! Hush, mistress!" haBtPy xclalmed Rebecca. \ "I would that that man could see her \ onlght! Would not the sight wring its heart? How many more weary ears do you think he will hold out gainst me, Rebecca?" "Not many; hush! hush!" the montonous voice answered; then, meetng Sibyl's eyes, the hard-faced nurse uddenly raised her finger to herforeiead. Her lips moved noiselessly. Touched," she said, without making a niinrt "It Is time for her to go now," said he invalid, fretfully. "You can bring er again tomorrow." (To be Continued.) *3" The man who Is looking for soft naps is sure to get many a hard Jolt 'M