Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, October 10, 1911, Image 1
ISSXTEP SEMI-WEEKLY.
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EST ABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, OCTOBER 10, 19tl7~ . N"Q. 81.
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CHAPTER XIV.
Fairy's Fortune*.
Miss Pam went no more to Rose
Cottage, but on the day following her
evening visit she despatched a servant
to that pretty hermitage with a
cage, in which was a big green parrot,
destined to console poor Fairy
for the lost pet of her less fortunate
days?the Polly for which she still lamented.
At sight of this gift Mrs. Iris went
off into paroxysms of laughter, in
which she was Joined by Hannah
Johnson.
"How good?how kind of Miss
Greylock!" cried the ex-danseuse, as
soon as she had breath to speak. "If
there Is anything on earth that I detest,
it is a parrot. Nevertheless, the
dear bird shall have a place in my
boudoir, and we will listen to her dulcet
voice the day long. Come, Fairy,
come my precious child, and behold
your lost Polly."
Fairy put her Angers In her mouth
and scowled.
"That's not Polly!" she answered,
saucily.
"Ah. ves It Is," said Mrs. Iris, in a
coaxing tone. "Just listen!"
"Polly! Polly! I'm Polly!" croaked
the green bird.
"Give her the finest cake In the
house, Hannah," commanded Mrs.
Iris. "And now, my Fairy, come and
take your dancing lesson. By this
means we shall yet force our Grand
Mogul to listen to justice and reason.
Ah, me! time was when I could have
danced with you, you pretty elf, but
now mamma's day Is over?only with
great difficulty can she show you the
simplest steps."
Fairy forgot Polly instantly, as the
artful speaker knew well she would,
for the child had developed a wonderful
passion, a marvelous talent for
Mrs. Iris's "dear, lost art." In a|
pocket diary of the ex-danseuse these
lines might have been found:
"In a fit of ennui, when the deadly
dullness of Rose Cottage seemed quite
unbearable, I began to learn Fairy to
dance. What was my delight to find
her take to the business as naturally
as a duck to water! She Is flexible
beyond belief, and pnenomenany
strong and agile. She executes the
most charming movements with no
effort whatever. Nature has gifted
her with a suppleness and grace that
are really wonderful. If Godfrey
Greylock remains obdurate?if he
will not make her his heiress. I will
consign her to a proper master, and
she shall go upon the stage and become
a premiere danseuse."
Hannah Johnson placed the parrot
in a window, while Mrs. Iris proceeded
to give Fairy her dancing lesson.
It was difficult work for Mrs. Iris?
it cost her severe physical pangs, but
she went about it with a stubborn determination.
Fairy stood on her
heeis, her toes?everything but her
pretty, curly head. Her lithe body
assumed amazing angles. She bent
and twisted and twirled, she floated
and fluttered, and swayed and swung,
while Mrs. Iris struck the gay notes
from the piano, and beat time with
her one sound foot.
"Poor papa used to say that every
inch of a dancer's body should be
trained," she sighed; "even to the
eyes, the fingers, the facial expression.
Now, Fairy?one, two, three. No;
that will not do. Try again. Bravo,
child! Your poise is delightful?yes,
you have the real, artistic faculty.
Let us try the little Spanish dance
that I learned you yesterday."
The parrot cocked her green head
to one side and croaked: "I'm Polly!
I'm Polly!"
Hannah Johnson grinned from a
doorway. When it was over. Mrs.
Iris, for once, embraced her daughter
with ardor.
"You're a beauty, Fairy," she
cried, "and a genius, also. You dance
as naturally as a bird sings. There's
a future before you. Kiss mamma."
After this all intercourse between
the villa and cottage ceased?only
Mrs. Iris sent her bills with delightful
regularity to her banker, as she
called the master of the Woods. Formidable
bills they often were, for she
did not confine herself to necessities;
but Godfrey Greylock paid them in
grim silence.
f It was Hannah Johnson who purchased
everything for her mistress?
she seemed to possess the latter's entire
confidence. Dally she went to
the town, and frequently to distant
cities, on Mrs. Iris's errands. But
either from choice, or because she
would not stoop to ask favors from
her stern father-in-law, Robert Greylock's
widow never passed the gate of
the Woods. All her outside affairs
she consigned to her servant Hannah,
and with her child remained a strict
recluse behind the vines of Rose Cottage.
Month after month went by. She
chafed and fumed and waited in vain
for a change in the aspect of affairs.
Did that autocrat at the villa never
mean to relent? Would not that prim
Miss Pam come again to see poor
Robert's daughter? No. The sum
. T Ifo
mer awinuieu imu autumn. u>i?
grew very luxurious and also very
dull. New novels Mrs. Iris had In
abundance, and new music, and there
were the dancing lessons, which went
on with determined regularity; but
these things were not engrossing
enough for her active mind. She
fared sumptuously every day. She
had rich toilets direct from a city modiste,
servants to do her bidding??every
reasonable luxury surrounded her,
but still, she was not content. Her
enforced solitude, the restrictions
that met her at every turn, the un'
certainty of this life at the cottage.
galled her exceedingly. Yet never
once did she defy Godfrey Greylock's
authority, or attempt to pass the
boundaries which he had set for her.
She feared the man, and the ground
^ she had gained in her dominions, unt
e^a (Aj >1^, cxLs rX a^o p-Ay
T T T T T T T T T & T
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ft deed it
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W. PIERCE *
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satisfactory as It was, she was more
than anxious to keep,
Sometimes she was consumed by an
inward fury which not even Hannah
Johnson could soothe. She would
limp about her pretty rooms, like a
wild creature in a cage. At one time
she would caress Fairy; at another
she would not tolerate the sight of
her.
"I cannot bear it!" she would almost
shriek; "this pretty prison, this
suspense, this loneliness, this lack of
everything that gives color to life! It
is useless, Hannah Johnson, to wait
for anything better?I am chasing the
very shadow of hope, and when Godfrey
Greylock dies, the English heir
will thrust me out of our shelter here,
after which I must make Fairy a success
in the ballet, or starve with her."
"You're too easily discouraged,
ma'am," purred Hannah Johnson.
"Time works wonders. Have patience."
So the months went on. A year
passed, and Mrs. Iris had never once
encountered the Inhabitants of the
villa. Near as they dwelt together.
they were yet as far apart as ir
oceans rolled between them. Meanwhile
the child Fairy was growing.
It was the eighth anniversary of
Robert Graylock's death?a winter
night, full of storm and darkness.
Six o'clock?the dinner hour at the
villa?had struck, and Godfrey Greylock
stood In the warm, bright drawing
room waiting for Miss Pam to
join him.
The wind roared around the brown
tower, and smote across the plate :
glass windows; sleet pattered sharply
on the panes. He could hear the
groaning of the great trees in the avenues.
This was a night sure to bring
wreck and disaster to the coast.
Presently Hopkins appeared at the
door with a message:
"Miss Greylock begs you will excuse <
her, sir," she said; "she's had a bad
turn and is quite upset. And will you
be so good as to sit down to dinner i
without her? She's never herself, you
know, sir, when this anniversary
comes around."
Yes, he knew. Eight years had
passed since the tragedy, but how
well he remembered all its dreary details!
In solitary grander** he seated
himself at his sumptuous board,
opposite Miss Pam's empty chair.
The lights burned brightly, the blaze
of a wood fire flashed on the glass and i
silver of the table; but outside the
tempest seemed t? grow in violence.
"It's a hard evening for travelers,
sir," the servant who waited at his
elbow ventured to say.
He had barely got beyond the soup
and fish, when, without warning of
any kind the door flew open, and
something darted into the room, ran
around the table, and climbed into
Miss Pamela's empty chair.
Godfrey Greylock paused in the act
of lifting a glass of wine to his lips?
the golden liquor splashed down on
the board.
He stared in blank amazement.
Over the damask cloth arose a head
like a sunbeam, and two big blue eyes
gazed back at him across the shining
table, like audacious moons. The
hood was pushed back on her pretty
neck, and the storm had drenched her
sunny hair, and torn it out in countless
rings and tendrils. The little
jacket that protected her small
shoulders was covered with sleet and
snow. She looked like some brightwinged
bird blown toy the rude tempest
of the night into this luxurious
room.
Godfrey Greylock put down his
glass. He gazed steadily at the object
there in Miss Pam's high, carved
chair, and the object gazed steadily
back at him. He was not dreaming,
nor laboring under any hallucination.
It was his despised and rejected grand
daughter, and on this dreary anniversary
of Robert Greylock's death
she was sitting before him at his table.
and looking at him with her father's
eyes. He turned to the servant.
"Leave the room," he said.
The man vanished.
"Who sent you here in this storm?"
Godfrey Greylock then demanded of
the golden hair and blue eyes opposite.
"Nobody," she answered. "I ran
away. I wish you would give me
some supper. I was so angry at Hannah
Johnson that I would not eat any
at home, and she said, 'Very well, I
might go to bed hungry.' "
He filled a porcelain plate with the
choicest morsels on the table, and
placed it before her. She fell to the
repast with appetite, yet In a dainty
way, that showed her table manners
had not been neglected. He watched
her silently. She had grown much in
the last twenty months, and her beauty
had put on a high-bred look, which
suited well a daughter of the Greylocks.
When her hunger was appeased
she pushed the plate away, and
gave him a little nod of thanks.
"Who came with you from Rose
Cottage at this hour?" he demanded,
sternly.
"AO, one. 1 came uiunc, .->n<r answered.
He thought of the long half-mile
through the woods, of the darkness
and tempest and his face grew sterner
yet.
"Do you know that I have strictly
forbidden the inmates of the Cottage
to approach this house?" he cried.
"Oh. yes." she replied, airily, "mamma
told me; but she had a headache
tonight, and I couldn't stay with Hannah
Johnson. She slaps and pinches
me, and I hate her. So I thought
that, being my grandpa, you wouldn't
mind if I paid you one little, small,
wee visit."
Perhaps her audacity struck him
dumb; at least, he did not answer.
"Hannah Johnson calls you a Grand
Mogul," she went on. with the terrible
communicativeness of childhood;
"a proud old peacock, with no more
heart than a mile-stone?a monster.
who means to rob me of my birthright."
"Ah!"
"And mamma says she will be even
with you yet, and that everything here
ought to be mine; and she could wish
an earthquake could swallow It before
it passes to the English boy. She says
I must dance to torment you, and that
she will put my name in full on the
playbills when I go on the stage to
support myself and her. Would you
like to see me dance, grandpa?" And
without waiting for an answer she
sprang out of Miss Pam's chair, cast
off her jacket and whirled away over
the bare, polished floor, like a small
dervish.
He spoke not a syllable. The fire
blazed redly on the tiled hearth, the
storm beat across the windows, and
the yellow-haired child gyrated hither
and thither, spinning like mad on
the tips of her toes, until It was
enough to make one giddy to watch
her. Godfrey Greylock put out an
authoritative hand at last.
"Stop!" he commanded; "no more
of these antics.
She stopped, but with a scowl.
"Don't you like my dancing, grandpa?"
"No; It Is outrageous?abominable."
This was more than she could bear.
She snatched up her Jacket, and turned
on him like a wasp that had been
brushed rudely.
"Nobody ever said that before. You
are rude?you are horrid. I shall go
on the stage and dance to thousands
nf nonnlo and make mamma's fortune
and my own. And I do not want any
of your money?you need not think I
do. I'd stamp on it, I'd throw It ,to
the dogs. You are a Grand Mogul,
and an old peacock, Just as Hannah
Johnson says. Now, I'm going home
and I shall not come to see you
again."
She marched grandly to the door,
but by the time she reached It her
wrath seemed to subside. She looked
wistfully back.
"I would kiss you, grandpa, If you
wanted me to," she said.
"That is kind, Miss Greylock," he
answered: "but I am not In the least
particular about It."
She drew nearer to him.
"If you'll stoop your head, grandpa.
I'll give you a good kiss."
He did not move an inch, but she
was penitent, and ready to meet him
more than half way; so she climbed
on his chair, and, drawing his proud
head down to her own level, she put
her fresh young Hps to his cheeks
and kissed him.
"I was very Impolite, grandpa I
hope you'll forgive me," she said,
meekly, "and send one of your dogs
hnme with me. 1 saw one In the hall
as I came in. It Is very dark under
the trees, and the wind makes a great
noise, and the snow Is deep?he'd
take care of me, you know."
Godfrey Greylock started to his feet
and rang the bell sharply. Hopkins
answered It.
"Did you admit this child, Hopkins?"
he asked, sternly.
Her face betrayed her guilt.
"Lord bless you, sir?yes, I did,"
she stammered. "I couldn't help it.
She was standing at the door all covered
with snow, and she says, in her
sweet little voice, 'May I come In and
see my grandpa?' and 'twas eight
years ago this very night"?
return I will give you further instructions."
Hopkins looked as though the skies
were falling around her.
He stepped into the hall, seized his
hat and overcoat and strode out of
the villa into the wild night.
He took the way to Rose Cottage.
The furious storm pelted him, the
darkness was intense; but he went
swiftly on, like a man with a purpose.
As he came in sight of the house he
saw lights flashing from window to
window, and the shadow of hurrying
figures on the curtains. The child had
been missed, and Mrs. Iris and the
servants were searching for her. In
the hall he met his son's widow. She
was white with consternation.
"Fairy!" she gasped, falling back,
as if about to faint at sight of her visitor.
"She Is gone. I cannot find her.
Oh, I am lost!"
"Calm yourself," he answered, coldly.
"Your child Is at the villa, safe
and well, madam, and I am here to
ask for a few words in private."
Then she knew that a crisis had
come in her affairs. Fairy at the villa
and Godfrey Greylock at Rose Cottage!
Mechanically she led him into
the pink boudoir and closed the door.
"Well?" she said.
He looked grim and determined.
"For nearly two years, madam, you
have lived in this cottage under limitations
which, I dare say, you find
distasteful. Tonight I have walked
half a mile through storm and darkness
to propose a change in your mode
of life. Without wasting words, I
simply say, I am convinced that you
are unfit to exercise authority over
your child. Give her up to me, and I
will educate her in a manner which
befits a daughter of the Greylocks; I
will place her with proper associates,
I will make her my future heiress."
She could have screamed aloud In
u? n?i/l Avnoorl In c <nv A
ner sai 1.1c tinu cAi.i<.Ui.ln .
little tiff with Hannah Johnson, the
flight of an angTy, audacious child
from Kose Cottage straight to the forbidden
villa, and lo! here was the result
for which she had vainly worked
and hoped long, weary months! At a
later day she would learn the details
of the matter; but now she only said,
with an air of Indignant sadness:
"Is it possible that you wish to separate
me from my one only child?"
"Xot altogether. She will be permitted
to see you as often as she desires;
but I must be her guardian?
not you. To my word she must listen
?not to yours. My influence and
none other must surround her, and
we must have no more of this dancing
business." Mrs. Iris smiled covertly.
"In short, you are to give up all control
of her."
"And in return"?
"In return, madam, I will leave you
mistress of your own movements,
with a deed to Rose Cottage, and an
income of ten thousand dollars per
year. Friends you and I can never be
?there are too many unpleasant
memories between us?but for the
child's sake, my aversion to you shall
from this time henceforth take the
form only of simple avoidance."
Her black eyes shone, the blood
flashed into her pretty, faded face.
Verily her hour had struck at last! But
In this, the very first, and perhaps the
sweetest moment of her triumph, out
from a dark corner of the room burst
a voice, harsh, sudden, ominous:
"Polly! Polly!" It cried; "where is
Polly?"
Iris Greylock started and screamed
In nervous fright, then she broke Into
an hysterical laugh. It was the parrot,
whose slumbers had been disturbed
by the conversation.
"That wretched bird!" she gasped,
"I shall wring Its vile neck some day."
She fell trembling Into a chair, and
covered her face with her hands. "It
is very ha.'d, very cruel, to take my
child from me," she sobbed, "the apple
of my eye?poor Rob's little girl.
It is very hard to give the control of
her to one who Is, and will always be,
my enemy. It Is hard to relinquish
all hope of a professional career for
her, but, since It Is for Fairy's good,
I consent. Though my heart should
break, I will not stand In the way of
her best Interests. Make her happy,
give her her rights, her proper place
In the world, and I will not complain.
I will sacrifice myself to my child."
A pitiless smile curled his lip.
"I beg you, let us have no heroics,
madam. Rose Cottage and ten thousand
per year can scarcely be called
sacrifice. And such a fortune a^ your
daughter will Inherit from me Is rarely
earned In any profession, and never
by any other than the most extraordinary
talent. And now there is but
nn? thins? more, madam. Do me the
favor to discharge from your employ
the woman called Hannah Johnson."
Mrs. Iris gTew absolutely pale.
"Hannah!" she gasped. "Oh, I understand,
Fairy dislikes her; she has
been complaining to you, the foolish,
unreasonable child. I assure you
poor Hannah is her slave. Impossible!
I cannot part with her."
Ho frowned.
"May I ask why?"
"She has been my faithful servant
through good and evil report; through
poverty, sickness and trouble. It
would be base ingratitude to cast her
out now. Be content with parting me
from my child, and do not drive away
my old and trusty attendant."
He looked displeased.
"I fear you are injudicious In your
choice of servants, madam. However,
I will not urge the point, for tomorrow
I shall place my granddaughter
at a school of my own selection,
and the persons connected with your
household will have nothing more to
do with her. She will pass the night
under my roof and In the morning
""" hiH hor farewell for the
present."
Godfrey Greylock went back to the
villa through the sleet and darkness.
Miss Pam met him in the hall, her
indisposition forgotten, her delicate
face full of happy agitation.
"Oh, to think It should have happened
on this anniversary," she said,
with pardonable Incoherence. "Thank
heaven, you had not the heart to send
her out of the house tonight, Godfrey.
She is asleep in my room. Come,
look at her, she is like an angel."
"Not now," he answered. "This
way, Pamela."
He entered his library, and she followed.
He went over to a cabinet in
a corner, and, opening a drawer, drew
out a folded paper.
"Here." he said, "is my last will and
testament, Pamela?the document
gives all my earthly possessions to Sir
Gervase Greylock." She drew back
quickly.
"I do not wish to see it, Godfrey;
pray excuse me! You know my sentiments."
"Yes," he replied, "but do not fear.
I had no intention of asking you to
read it."
He made a stride to the open grate,
and flung the will into it. A flash of
flre, a pinch of gray ashes, and Sir
Gervase Greylock had lost a million
or more in American lands and money.
"It Is not pleasant ror a man 10 eat
his own words," said Godfrey Greylock.
slowly; "but I have changed all
my future plans, Pamela. The child
above stairs Is my heiress; to her every
dollar of my fortune will go, and
yet Sir Gervase will lose nothing."
Miss Pam could only stare at him
helplessly. "He will lose nothing,"
explained the master of the Woods, as
he met her questioning eyes, "because
I have selected him to be the future
husband of my granddaughter. Do
you understand? I shall arrange the
matter at an early day. My dear Pamela,
your grand-niece will be the
next Lady Greylock; and In the marriage
of these young creatures I shall
see fulfilled a favorite dream of mine
?the union of the two separate
branches of the family, the American
wealth with the ancient English honors."
CHAPTER XV.
A Vow.
The time was 6 o'clock of a dark
and dubious morning, nine years after
the date of the last chapter. The
place was the recitation room of a
boarding school for young ladles, an
ultra-fashionable establishment, situated
in the oulet. aristocratic suburb
of a great city. At this early hour
the house was as still as a tomb. A
term had just closed, with an amazing
exhibition of beauty, learning and accomplishments?the
latter creditable
alike to pupils and teachers?and the
younger classes had gone home, also
the fair, triumphant girl-graduates,
all save one, who was now moving
about In the midst of the deserted
seats, and by the gloomy blackboards
and up and down the dusty floor, like
some restless ghost.
"I feel as melancholy as Marlus
amidst the ruins of Carthage, Miss
Hale," she said to the Insignificant
under-teacher, who was guarding the
beauty of the school, the brilliant
"show" scholar, till the very moment
of her departure. "How dreary It
seems here without the girls! I hope
nothing will happen to detain grandpa.
I shall die of loneliness if he
leaves me longer at the school."
She was a blonde of 17, or thereabout,
with hair like beaten gold, a
wax-white skin, and eyebrows and
lashes as black as ink?a marvelously
handsome creature, with the form of
a Psyche, and the air of a princess.
Her queenly little head was faultlessly
set on her marble throat, pride and
sweetness, frost and fire mingled In
the curve of her perfect scarlet lips,
and the flash of her great, conquer
ing, pansy-dark eyes. She was dressed
in traveling costume, and in the
hall stood her trunks, packed and
waiting for the porter. Her face was
pale, her manner strangely restless,
perhaps from impatience.
"Your grandfather will not arrive
for a half-hour yet, Miss Greylock,"
answered Miss Hale, with the deference
which all the teachers were
prompt to show to this reigning favorite
of the school?this heiress, whom
everybody admired and envied. "Do
not be so eager to leave us; we shall
miss you sadly."
She made no reply. Was she glad
or sorry that her school days were
over?
"Do you go directly to Blackport?"
asked Miss Hale.
"Yes," answered Ethel Greylock,
absently picking up a book of French
exercises from one of the seats. "When
grandpa came to see me graduate
three days ago, he had, you know,
some business matter, which obliged
him to leave me here, and go on to a
distant place to see soipeooay aooui
something?excuse me, I cannot be
definite, as I never ask questions concernlng
such things. All I know Is,
that he promised to return and take
me away at 7 this morning."
"He will keep his word, never fear,"
said the under-teacher with an envious
little sigh. "How happy you
ought to be. Miss Greylock! You have
won all the honors that we could bestow
upon you here, and now you are
going home to relatives that adore
you?to the life of a belle, an heiress,
a society queen. All this, I am sure,
Is enough to turn the head of a girl
of 17."
Ethel Greylock came over to one
end of the long room, and paused beside
Miss Hale. Her pallor and restlessness
seemed to increase every moment.
"There is still another thing waiting
for me, Miss Hale," she said, with
a queer little laugh. "You forgot to
mention It?a husband."
"My dear!" said Miss Hale, In a
shocked tone.
"Oh, it is quite true, I assure you,"
answered Ethel Greylock, gayly; "a
titled husband, too?grandpa's particular
choice. He Is an English kinsman,
and it is no secret?I have been
promised to him since childhood?
exactly after the fashion of the oldstyle
novel. All the girls in school
knew it, and all agreed that I was the
most fortunate creature In existence."
T~k*J U?1a fKlnlr oa tnn 9 Tn
LJIu I1UI miaa xiaic xuiun uvy, . ...
her poor, tired heart was she not resentfully
wondering why one woman
should be overwhelmed by fortune's
favors, while another must be left her
lifelong needy, and loveless, and famishing?
Was she not aware that betwixt
her own pinched, faded countenance
and the dazzling young face by
her side the contrast was almost painful?
"You ought to be very, very happy!"
she said again.
Miss Graylock did not answer, but
turned suddenly to a window and
looked out. She saw a wide playground,
inclosed in high walls and
full of wind-tossed trees; she saw a
gray, rainy sky, and Just across the
way a tall steeple, with a clock upon
it, and the hand of the timepiece
pointed significantly to the flying momenta.
"What a dismal morning!" she faltered;
"It is detestable to travel in
rainy weather. Apropos to nothing,
Miss Hale, I have lost a ring a gift
from grandpa?I must go out in the
playground and look for it before he
comes. Doubtless I dropped it from
my finger while I was walking there
yesterday."
"Let me go with you, ma chere,"
said Miss Hale, "and help you in the
search."
"By no means! I cannot think of
troubling you. I will find it without
assistance."
"It is no trouble," persisted the under-teacher;
"I am ordered not to
leave you until your grandfather arrives."
Ethel Greylock's eyes flashed?
haughty and imperious eyes they
could be, when occasion required.
"I forbid you to follow me!" she
cried, throwing back her lovely blond
head with the air of a princess. "I
know exactly where to look for my
ring. I care not what orders you have
received?I have no wish for company,
and I will tolerate none. When
one is bidding farewell to old scenes
one naturally prefers to be alone."
Without deigning so much as another
glance at the insignificant teacher
who held her, as she well knew, in
secret awe, the lovely young graduate
threw a wrap hurriedly about her
shoulders, and descended to the hlghwalled
playground of the school.
m i__ 11? and
1 lie >NttlXVS W61C UCOC1 icu UUU MXV*
silent. There were no chattering
groups under the trees, no shrill glrlvolces
waking the echoes up and down
this lnclosure. Into which no male
foot was ever allowed to Intrude.
Ethel Greylock cast one swift glance
back at the house. Miss Hale would
not dare to follow her, and the remaining
inmates, with the exception
of the kitchen-maids, still slumbered.
Her breath came in odd gasps. Her
lovely violet eyes assumed a frightened,
guilty expression. Perhaps she
had forgotten her lost ring?at any
rate, she did not stop to search for It,
but gliding swiftly Into the shadow
of the dripping trees, she went on until
she came to a summer-house at
the furthest boundary of the grounds.
There, leaning against the door of the
rustic structure, in the spot where all
males were forbidden as rigorously as
In a convent garden, stood?wonder
of wonders?a man!
A striking-looking person, like some
dark, splendid Apollo. He had passed
his first youth, but on his languorous
southern beauty time had left few
I marks. The tall, lissome figure which
reclined against the summer house
fell naturally Into the most graceful
curves and postures. His black Creole
eyes were as dangerous as eyes can
be?many a woman's heart had ached
under their melting glances. His face
was like delicate bronze, and Its fixed
expression of dreamy melancholy, of
passionate, volcanic repression, was
the last thing needed to complete Its
romantic charm. He wore a wide
sombrero and a long cloak, and his
Whole appearance was like that of '
some splendid stage hero.
Ethel Greylock's advancing step
"That's enough." he Interrupted; 1
"take the child up to Miss Greylock's
room. I am going out, and when I
broke the reverie in which he seemed
plunged. He sprang eagerly to meet
her.
"Thank Heaven!" he cried; "I began
to fear you would not come,
Ethel."
She ran up to him, flushed and
trembling.
"It was not quite easy to escape
from Miss Hale?you know how keen
she Is?but I am here," she panted,
"and you, Arthur?however did you
manage to scale the wall?"
Ho laughed lightly.
"Easily enough. It would have tak-j
en a barrier higher than Haman's gal-|
lows to have kept me out of thel
school-yard this morning. So you
found the note which I dropped over
tho garden wall last night?"
"Yes," she faltered; "It's a wonder
it didn't fall Into Miss Hale's hands.
You are very Imprudent. Oh, Arthur,
what do you want of me??why have
you asked me to meet you here?"
He snatched her to him In all her
young beauty?strained her wildly to
his heart, and she did not resist him.
"What do I want of you?" he cried,
reproachfully; "how can you ask such
a question, Ethel? The time has come
for us to part." She shuddered. "Is
there nothing for lovers to say?to do,
In an hour like this? Could I let you go
without a last word?a last embrace?
Who knows when we may meet again?
Even should Fortune be kind, which
Isn't likely, there are weary weeks of
separation for us both to bear. Keep
your lovely arms around me; keep
your cheek upon my heart. Oh, my
darling, do you remember the day
when I first came to the school as an
humble music teacher, and madame,
the principal, ushered my pupils into
the music room, where I waited to receive
them?"
"Yes; oh, yes."
"You led the class. I put my hand
to my dazzled eyes at sight of you.
You were as white as snow, and as raHlant
aa mnrnlntf. OomDared With
you, the other girls looked like common
weeds around some splendid
queen-rose. In my heart I swore, that
very hour, that I would win you In
spite of the misfortune which had
snatched wealth and position from me
and made me poor and obscure. Now (
tell me, my love, when did you first
begin to love me?"
"That same day?that same hour,"
she stammered. "You looked at me?
you spoke to me about the music, and
I?I could find no voice to answer
you. I grew faint?even the principal
noticed It, and thought I was 111. After
the lesson, when you were gone,
and all the other girls began to rave
about your good looks and distingue
manner, I alone could say nothing."
"That was six months ago," he murmured,
softly and triumphantly, "and
the love which overwhelmed us both
at our first meeting has steadily
grown and strengthened ever since?
is It not so?"
"Yes," she confessed with sobs.
"And we have kept our secret so
well, so well, my own, that no third
party has ever suspected It."
"True,"
"But the time has come for you to .
leave school, and go back to your own 1
kin, who have never even heard of
me? Is It strange that I tremble now
for my happiness? You have told me
enough a&out yourself and your grandfather
to convince me that he will ,
move, heaven and earth to marry you
to the English baronet?thinking, no i
doubt, that even that match Is not
?rnnd pnnueh for VOU. YOU will be
plunged at once Into society?you will
have scores of lovers at your feet?
your school life will fade away like a
dream, and I shall be far distant, unable
to plead my own cause, obliged
to leave you to the love and admiration
of other men. Do you wonder
that the thought of these things wrings
my heart this morning?"
(To Be Continued.)
A FOREST RANGER HERO.
Incident of the Big Fires of 1910 in
Idaho Told by Overton W. Price.
Overton W. Price, vice-president of
the National Conservation association,
whose book, "The Land We Live
In," appears this fall, tells this story
of a heroic forest ranger:
"The summer of 1910," he says, "by
reason of great drought and unusually
high winds was the worst for forest
fires that the west has ever known. In
Montana, Idaho and Oregon the danger
was greatest.
"On the Coeur d'Alene national forest
In northern Idaho Ranger Pulaski
had under him forty men, who after
many hours of hard work had got a
big fire practically under control. Suddenly
the wind strengthened until It
blew a gale. It Immediately became a
question of saving the lives of the
men. The fire fighters were In deep
forest many miles from a railroad and (
far from any clearing. i
"Pulaski remembered that within a '
mile of where they were working there ,
was an abandoned mine shaft running j
back about forty feet into the hillside, i
He rushed his men to the shaft as '
quickly as possible, and told them as |
they passed through their camp to i
catch up their blankets as tney ran.
The shaft reached, Pulaski hurried his
men Into It, and packed like sardines
they filled It up. Pulaski placed himself
at the opening, across which he
stretched a blanket.
"Within a few minutes after the
men were In the shaft the fire came.
The blanket at the opening caught
and Pulaski Jerked It away and hung
up another, which caught in Its turn.
The blanket caught again and again,
and each time Pulaski replaced It, until
toward the last he held the blanket
acress the opening with his bare
hands.
"The shaft grew hotter and hotter
and the smoke and fumes grew thicker
and thicker until the men's sufferings
were almost beyond human endurance.
They began to break the
opening. Pulaski, whose strength was
great, like his courage, for a while
forced them back. Seeing that he
would soon be overpowered and that
his men would rush to their certain
death, he drew his revolver and said
that he would kill the first man who
broke away.
"In perhaps twenty minutes the
worst of the fire passed by. Five of
the men in the shaft were dead from
ontlr?n thi^ thlrtv-flvp nthprs ?
were alive. Pulaski was blinded and 1
seriously burned upon the hands and
arms. It was three months before his sight
was partly restored. Had not a
his heroism and presence of mind been s
what they were, he would have lost 1
all of his men Instead of five. That 1
is the kind of men there are In the \
forest service." t
ittisccUancous grading. \
t
THE MEDIAEVAL TURK. J
1
Better Than He Generally Geta Credit
for Being.
No people in the world are more t
likeable than the Turks. They are
kindly, honest and generous-hearted. a
They are gentle in their ordinary life, s
Many Americans hearing these facts ?
. .. _ n
for the first time find it hard to reconclle
this view of the Turk with the t]
stories they have heard of his cruel d
and blood-thirsty nature. "How can ^
the Turks be kind and gentle," they p
ask, "when they commit such barbaric
deeds?" ?
It is Just at this point that the
Turk is so hard to understand. He tl
is kind and gentle and of winning ti
personalty?yet he is capable of the g
utmost cruelty. When his religious tI
fanaticism is aroused, or when he is a
putting down a rebellion he slays in C|
cold blood women, and children at
the breast; burns down homes and b:
shoots the inhabitants as they come It
forth; violates women before their e
own husbands, and carries the best n
Into captivity. A town thus ravaged tl
leaves little resemblance to a human
dwelling place. ?
There are Bulgarians and Armeni- b;
ans living who have gone through h
scenes of untold horror. Naturally *
mey do not love me lum. iei me je
English and Americans who live tl
among the Turks do like them?do P
come to feel a real affection for them. ^
You meet a pacha who will captivate
you today by his kindness and II
winning personality; and the next day ?
he may have a prisoner tortured to ^
death with perfect unfeeling. h
Whence these contradictions In his e:
nature? The assumption that he Is **
a hypocrite?that his kindness is
merely put on, is not an explanation,
for it is not true. The Turk really is g
kind, generous, loving, and he is also ai
cruel. ?J
Still In the Middle Ages. *
The explanation lies in this?that si
the Turk is still in the middle ages.
He is only half way up from savagery. *
LJke all Orientals, he holds his life
and suffering as of Utile Importance, ti
This indifference to physical pain is p|
characteristic of the east bl
The Oriental does not differ in na- pi
ture from the Occidental. We who
Inherit and receive from our environment
ao exquisite sensitiveness to the s<
sufferings of others, leading us to es- p
tablish hospitals, care for the suffering a
and do away with all forms of cruel- ?e
ty, must not be harsh In our Judgment
of our eastern brothera tc
It is only a few centuries ago that
we, too, held life and suffering In lit- ^
tie value. We hung men for stealing, ol
we quartered them for differing from "
us In political opinions, we burnt Jr
them at the stake in order to save 8t
their soula An offense to a prince tc
meant more than ostracism from soclsig
it meant At sudden removal n
from this world. A grim age?an age c<
of bloodshed and horrors, of cruelty P<
and torture, gone never to return. We
have risen above It?from the Dark R'
Age of Europe to thp enlightenment "
of the twentieth century. P.
Yet even within two or three cen- [5
turies we could have found in Eng- *
land the prototye of the modern M
man, the kindly dignified merchant, ^
who could witness with calmness torture,
execution, burning at the stake.
That it is not Christianity alone that
has produced this twentieth century fc
gentleness, the religious tortures of p]
the middle ages bear witness. In a ^
cruel age, Christlaity was also cruel. 0,
In the name of Christ people under- tr
went tortures of every conceivable t,
form and perished at the stake. Re- 0j
flnement of feeling Is a natural result ^
of a peaceful, segregated life. Our
nerves are too sensitive to witness the t!
shedding of blood. We are not cruel ai
physically, but our age is none the q
less cruel. We can let hundreds be 5,
maimed and killed in order to in- p,
crease our stocks and bonds. We can hi
be coldly Indifferent to suffering tj,
caused by us if it goes at a distance. a,
Yet this much has been gained? m
that physical gentleness and kindness
holds sway in the twentieth century, |n
and we do not have to fear the rack, 8C
the sword or the stake. A difference i8
of opinion does not necessarily mean fr
death, or even imprisonment. Our ^
feudal lords may exact revenue from
us in the price of oil, beef, wool and
other commodities of life, but they w
have no direct power over our per- t0
sons. The highest gentleman in the u
land may not wilfully strike the
meanest servant.
The Orient is still in the Dark Age. id
Human suffering means little to m
them. They have not yet cultivated Iy
a sensitiveness to it. Numerous forms p<
of torture still exist there, delightful to
In their simplicity. In Samarkand it E
has been the custom to throw crimi- st
nals from a high tower in the center hi
of the city. Another form of execu- lii
tlon was that of dragging them over
roughly paved streets behind swift w
horses. Still more interesting a death O
awaited political offenders. There is ea
a deep pit in the city full of loathe- cc
some vermin, and a victim thrown le
to them is gradually eaten up. p?
Simple Means for Bursting a Trust. s?
In Teheran a few years ago there f'
were some men who succeeded in effecting
a corner in wheat?Orientals
ivho had admirably caught the flnanpiering
spirit of the twentieth century.
As the price of wheat went up h,
t naturally caused suffering among
the poor. Not being able to view the .
subject in a scientific way, they laid .
the blame of their suffering upon
.hese three financiers, and seizing
lold of their persons, crucified them ,
jpside down in the public square. ,
rhls is said to be a very painful
leath, as all the blood descends into
the head, bringing enormous pressure
jpon the brain. Thus do the Persians ~2
ebel against the enlightenment of th'
twentieth century financiering. *
One of the worst governors In Perda,
Just before the revolution, ap- .
propriated the estate of a subject,
rhls man had the hardihood to appear
before him and demand his land
jack again. The governor said: di
vvny. you nave a 101 01 gau 10 come ie
:o me and ask for your land. I should lei
le Interested to see just how large tl<
rour gall bladder Is." With that he ar
lad two of his servants cut the man ch
ipen and take his gall bladder out. Is
fie looked at It and said: "Yes, It Is m
julte large. Now I will give you your th
and. I hope you will enjoy it." In of
i few hours the unfortunate man pi
vas dead. That governor is living be
:oday in Paris, and if you were to fe
neet him you would be charmed by is
lis manners. he
Terrible massacres took place in tri
Persia on account of religious fanat- th
cism against the Babls. They were br
jutchered in many horrible ways?
>ne of which was to cut gashes in the N<
lesh and insert burning candles in de
:hem. Pitch was burnt on top of is
nen's heads?babies were dashed M
igalnst walls. pe
The same barbarous treatment was ha
iccoraea 10 me Armenians uy auuui wi
flamid. ou
Whole villages were cut to pieces bi
?men, women and children. The w<
vounded were piled on brushwood wl
maked In kerosene and burned alive, do
CVomen were cut open before their be
lusbands' eyes. While the Turks th
vere responsible for these massacres 1st
hey did not actively participate In Tr
hem. The bloody work was done by
Curds, a tribe much more savage and
incivillzed than the Turks. Some of
he Turks even sheltered their Arnenian
neighbors. The responsibility
ests upon the shoulders of Abdul
lamid and his advisers.
Abdul Hamid's Little Way*.
This cruel tyrant had many ways of
orturing young Turks suspected of
iberalism. Boiling eggs were placed
,nder their armpits, a torture which
oon drives Its victims Insane. The
kin would be flayed from the back
f another, mustard poultices laid
ext the raw flesh and the skin sewed
p again. Redhot Irons were run up
he body. Some were burned to
earn wun Kerosene. Many a nne
oung man of progressive ideas found
is bed upon the bottom of the Boshorus.
These are only a few of the deed3
f horror that coud be told. And in
he face of them, how can it be beeved
that the Turk is kind and ger.e?
Yet it is true. The solution of
he problem rests with the psycholoists.
As it is said, scratch a Russian
nd you will find a Tartar, so it Is
ue that beneath the gentle manners
nd kind heart of every Turk lie volanlc
possibilities of religious fanatiIsm
and of cold-blooded cruelty. He
as not yet gotten control of the
rute in him, though he is progressig.
Beneath the culture and civilized
sterlor of every one of us lie sublerged
depths of ferocity and bloodlirstiness
waiting for outlet. The
authern gentleman with the most
harming manner and the kindest
Pflrt lvhon Vila H a n ahtor la irfnlo
y a negro, may set with his own
ands the flame to the pile of wood
rhlch Is to burn alive the offender.
>ur passions are like dogs held In
>ash. Those who come to us by
le front gate receive our kind hoeItality?those
who come by forblden
paths, If they come within reach
f our ferocity, may feel Its bite.
So it is with the Turk. In ordinary
fe he is kind and affable, dignifledly
ourteous. He is kind to his children,
ind to his animals, kind to strangers,
[e seldom loses his temper, but when
e does lose it, beware. He does not
ncourage street fighting, but if he
ears resentment he may kill.
The Nsw Awakening.
One of the greatest sights of the
wakening of the Orientals Is their
rowing sense of shame at these
troclties. The Influence of western
lvilizat,lon, even at a distance, is
:rong upon them. They respect its
leals of physical refinement and senbillty
to suffering. They quail be>re
its abhorrence of cruelty. They
Iready feel that these deeds do not
ecome the twentieth century.
With the establishment of constltuons
and its consequent check of desotlsm,
great changes are taking place
nd it will not be long before these
arbaric deeds will be things of the
ast. Already there has been a great
ifinlng process in the near east durig
the last half century, and within
te lifetime of this generation we shall
se the east purged of its cruelty and
hyslcal roughness, ready to join in
great world culture, whose ideals
f gentleness shall not permit of need!88
human suffering.
In other directions it is Interesting
i IrnpA thA mAfllnAvnl nhnrartAP nf
le Turkish civilization. In religion
is distinctly mediaeval. Islam is
ill a religion of authority. The voice
f the priest is all powerful. He
lies his ignorant followers through
lelr ignorance. The Koran is written
i old Arabic and cannot be underood
even by those who know how
) read modern Arabic. It has not
st been translated into Turkish.
Phen it is read in the mosques, it Is
sad in the original Arabic, which"
mveys no meaning to the Turkish
easant. Things are in the same state
i when Tyndall and Wyciiff suffered
ersecution in their efforts to bring
le Bible to the level of the English
sople. The clergy alone possessing
le key to the Scriptures, have unlimed
power to interpret them as they
lsh, and the complaint of educated
[ohammedans is that the clergy have
storted the teachings of the prophet.
Breaking a Religious Tyranny.
Already there is a movement on
>ot to get back through the mass of
riestly Interpretations to the Koran
self. A protestant wave is sweeping
rer Islam, quietly and cautiously a
anslation of the Koran into modern
urklsh is being prepared. The grip
f the clergy is waning in proportion
i the people are becoming educated.
It must be said in justice to Islam
lat it has never been as fanatical
id intolerant of heresy as the
hristian church. There has never
sen any inquisition in Islam?and
executions for religious differences
ive been far greater than in Chrisanity.
The Turks are the broadest
id most tolerant of all Mohamedans.
In education, also, Turkey is still
i the Middle Ages. Its system Is
:holastic. The whole trend of studies
religious. The Koran is the basis
om elementary school to university,
[ore stress is laid on memorizing
lan on original thinking. Why
lould you do thinking for yourself
hen Mohammed gave the solution
> all the problems of life?
odern Education Gottirrg In Its Work
Modern education, however, is raplly
destroying this native state of
ind. The young Turk is thoroughup-to-date.
His contact with Euro?an
civilization has opened his mind
i the necessity of scientific methods,
ven the Turk or Persian who has
udied medicine in his own country
is been forced to think along the
ties or modern science.
A few generations of this culture
ill make a great change In the
rient. Turkey and Persia are both
iger for western education. In both
luntrles there are a number of
aders who have received a Euro;an
education and are thoroughly In
mpathy with Its ideas. Their influlce
is radiating through the couny.
In the end It must pervade the
asses.
In methods of Industry and business
ie mediaeval form holds sway. Hand
ork is the rule. The industrial age
is not yet struck the Orient, to
hlch fact we owe the beautiful
md-made articles which charactere
the east. You may stroll through
e bazaars of Constantinople and see
en in little booths cutting out vaaus
shapes of wood with hand
thes, working as baskets, shaping
id painting coarse china. They
ork slowly, but deftly. Their hours
e long, but their labor dignifies inead
of degrading them. Now and
en they stop work, light a cigarette
id dream. There Is a chance for a
t of meditation, a broadening of the
sion of life.
No Frenzied Finance.
When it conies to selling his proicts,
the Oriental is again the masr
of his business?sitting crossgged
in his little shop, waiting paintly
for a customer. He is never
ixious to sell. If you wish to exlange
your money for his goods, he
ready to serve you. Strange as it
ay seem, to bargain with one of
ese venerable old Turks for a chain
prayer beads and finally make a
irchase is like going away with a
nlson upon you. You feel an afction,
a love for the old man. He
happy to sell his beads, you?are
ippy to buy them?and the whole
ansaction has been conducted on
e highest level of courtesy and
otherly feeling.
The despotism of the east is over,
i more can its rulers consign to
ath at their whim. The Dark Age
dissolving before the light of the
odern Age. Yet the poise and
ace of medlaevalism in the Orient
is a charm which we would not
sh lost. It is as if one could drop
ir busy, nerve-racking life into a
t of the Middle Age, before the
jstern world woke up?into a land
here there are no nervous breakiwns,
no tension, no anxieties?and
lulled into a blissful dream. Will
e east be able to keep its character:lc
of peace??Sam Cobb, In Boston
aveler.