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- Continued from First Page. CHAPTER IL T&S COLOXKL KEZTS THE SQUIBS. ' Soddenly, as Col Quaritch was contem? plating these varions views and reflecting that on tba whole he had done well to come . - abd five at Honbam cottage, he was startled y? ^ky *> loud voice saluting him from about twenty yards distance with such a peculiar vigor that be fairly Jumped. ?tyv? **CoL Quaritch, I believe," said, or rather Wbouted, the voice from somewhere down the drive. . "... "Ye*;* answered the colonel mildly, "here -?ajB.* **Ah, I thought it was you. Always tell a fo?ztary mn, you know. Excuse me, but I fem resting for a minute, this last pull is an ' feooommoaly stiff one. I always used to tell my<karo?d friend, Mrs. Massey, that she bogbt to have the hill cut away a bit jest ^ Bare. Well; here goes for it," and after a few heavy steps the visitor emerged from the of the trees into the sunset light was playing on the terrace before the Coi Quaritch glanced np curiously to see &x?: wno the owner o? the great voice might be, .nd bis eyes lighted upon as fine a specimen -r ci humanity as he had seen for a long while. ^ Tb? man was old, as his white hair showed, 10 perhaps, bot that was the only sign of de D .. The colonel meets th? squire. wea? about him. He was a splendid man? Bmd and thick and strong, with a keen, I |pncj^^?e^?nii a face* sharply chiseled and I^P?jeaa shaved, of the stamp which in novels ?'geoerally known as aristocratic, a face that, in fact, showed both birth and breed fag. Indeed, as clothed in loose tweed gar- j l^-ttsats and a gigantic pair o' top boots, his "**-Traitor stood there, leaning on his long stick ?ed TCS?ng himself after breasting the hill, Haroi? Quaritch thought to himself that he Q^j bad nev?- seen a more perfect specimen of tj^-?^ typical Engthh country gentleman-as - the English country j?rent'. amen used to be. ?i V ?J?Soiw do you do, sir, now do you dol My ainae is De la Molle. My man George, who Snowseverybody* business except bis own, tosd me that yon had arrived here, so I thought that I would walk round, and do " Bjaelf the honor o? Tat^T? your acquaint ..?*Tb?t is very kind of you," said the Minmi .*Not stall. If you only knew how uncom ?aooly dull it is down here .voa would not ??y that. The place isnt what it osed to be when I was a boy. There are plenty of rich pecpleab?ut, bot they are not the same stamp of people. It isn't what it used tobe in more ways ihar> one,'* and the old squire gave aumethiag Bfce a sigh, and thoughtfully re? moved his white hat, out of which a dinner ?napkin and two pocket handkerchiefs fell to tho ground, in a fashion that reminded CoL Quaritch of the climax of a conjuring trick. "You have dropped some-so nie linen, " he asid, stooping down to pick the mysterious vr articles up. yea; thank you," answered his visitor, **I find tho sun a. little bot at this time of the yan- There is nothing like a few handker? chiefs or a towel to keep it off," and he rolled the mass of na pen- into a ball, and cram arfng it bock into the crown, replaced the hat oe his head IQ such a fashion that about eight inches of white napkin bung down behind. "Too must have felt lt in Egypt," he went npjrati-><$?he sun, I mean. It's a bad climate, that Egypt, as I have good reason to know," and* be' pointed again to his white hat, which, as Harold Quaritch now observed for the j first time, was encircled by a brood black band. . j "Ah, I see," said be, "I suppose that you bare had a loss." .Tea, sir, a very heavy loss." "Kow Coi. Quaritch had never heard that Sr. de la Molle had more than one child, Ida de la M >Ue, the young lady whose face bad ; nonah; ed so strongly fixed tn his memory, ; although be bad scarcely spoken to ber on j that one occasion five long years ago. Could j .??itbapossih?e that she had died in Egypt? : ?> Theidet sent a tremor of fear through him, though of course there was no real reason fc^Jjfrrtt should. Deaths are so com moa " . r^?t-noTMiss de ia Moller he said, nerv ooatr, adding, "I had the pleasure of seeing ber once, a good many years ago, when 1 was stopping here for a few days with my .ont." "Oh, no,. not Ida, she is alive and well, I thank God. Her brother James. He went ? all through that wretched wer, which we par? to Mr. Gladstone, as 1 say. though I j don't know what your politics are, arv i then j caught a fever, or. as I think, sot touched by ; tba ?cn, and died on his way home. Poor j boy! .flo was a fine fellow. ( v>j. Quaritch, ; sad my only son, but very rechiess. Duly a j month or so before be died I wrote to him to be careful always to put a towel in his hel? met, and he answered, m that, flippant sort of way that be had, that he was not going to turn himself in a dirty clothes bag, and that be rattier liked the heat tbiui otbortvise. I .- Well, he's gone, poor fellow, in the service of { " bis country. like many of his ancestors be- j ?dre bim, and there's an end of bim." And again the old man sighed, heavily j this time. **And now, CoL Quaritch," be went on, j shaking off his oppression with a curious i ?pJiity that was characteristic of him, j "what do you say to coming np to the castle I for jour dinner? You must be in a mess ber?, and I expect that old Mrs. Jobson, wboett my man George teils me you have got to look after you, will be glad enough to be rid of you for to-night. What do you say? Take the place as you find it, you know. I know that there is a leg of mutton for dinner - if there is nothing else, because, instead of tfuntndmg his own business, I saw Geo: ge go fl ^tp?T to Boisingbam to fetch it this morn Bt^-t least, that is what he said that ho ?|^2r^ j,jst 3X1 excuse to gossip and H^teally," said the colonel, "you are fl BBS; bat I don't think that my dress fl PKre unpacked yet. " E)r*ss clothes! Ob, never mind your dress Shea. Ida will excuse you, 1 dare say. [MPistfMS you have no time to dress. By Ijfl JOTT I *t\ nearly 7 o'clock; we must be off if Ipr you ?re coming." ' The colonel hesitated. He had intended to dine *& home, and being a methodical minded j ata did not like altering his plans. Also he was, like most old military men, very punc tiHouj; about his dress and personal appear? ance, and objected to going out to dinner in . shocking coat. But all this notwithstand? ing, a feeling that he did not quite under- ; ?toad, and that it would have puzzled even j on American novelist to analyze-something ! between restlessness and curiosity, with a j daih ci' magnetic attraction thrown in-got ! tte bettor of bis scruples, and he went. .'Wall, thank you," he said, "if you are j .are that Miss de la Molle will not mind, I j wfl] come. Just allow me to tell Mrs. Job- j "That's right,9 hallooed the squire after bim. "Fll meet you at the back of the bouse. We had better go through the 4o$d** .'. Tho colonel, having informed bis house? keeper that he should not want any dinner, and hastily brushed his not too luxuriant locks, rejoined Mr. de la Mo ile. They strolled along, stopping now and ?fain to admire some particular oak or view, Pbottlnj; all the while in a discursive manner, which, (bough lt was somewhat aimless, was kjr no means without Its charm. Theaquira a capital companion fora silent man like > Quaritch. who liked to hear other people talk. j in thia way they got down the siope, and j passing through a couple of wheat fields j came to a- succession of broad meadows, ; somewhat sparsely timbered, through which j tho footpath ran right up to the grim gate way of the ancient castle, which now ?comed before them, outlined in red lines of dre ' against the ruddy background of the sunset sky. In another three minutes they bsd crossed a narrow byroad and were passing np tho ancient drive that led to the castle gates. Right before them was the gateway cf the castle, flanked by two great towers, and that, with the exception of some ruins, was, as a matter of /act, all that remained of the an? cient building, which had been effectually demolished in the time of Cromwell Tho space within, where the keep had once stood, was now laid out as a flower garden, while the house, which was of an unpretentious nature, and built in the Jacob 3an style, oc? cupied the south side of the square, and was placed with the back to the moat. "You see I have practically rebuilt those two towers," said the squire, pausing under? neath the Norman archway. "If I had not .done it," he added, apologetically, "they would have been in ruins by now, but it cost j a pretty penny, ? can tell you. Nobody j knows what stuff that old flint masonry is to j deal with, till he tries it. Well, it will stand ? now for many a long day. And here we j are"-and ho pushed open a porch door and ; then passed through a passage into a kind of ? oak paneled vestibule, which was hung with tapestry originally taken, no doubt, from the c'd castle, and decorated with coats of armor, spear heads and ancient swords. And here it was that Harold Qucrltch once : more beheld the face that had haunted his j memory for so many months. : CHAPTER IIL TES TALS 07 SIR JAMES DS LA ROLLS. "Is that you, fatherr said a voice, a very sweet voice, bot one of which the tones be? trayed the irritation natural to a healthy j woman who has been kept waiting for her dinner. The voice came from the recesses of the dusky room in which the evening gloom had gathered deeply, and looking in its di? rection Harold Quaritch could see the out- ; lines of a tall fons sitting in an old oak j chair with its hands crossed. "Is that you. father? Really it is too bad j to be so late for dinner, especially after you 1 blew ?p that wretched Emma ls<t eight be- ; cause she was five minutes after tir.ia 1 have ? been waiting so long that I have almost been asleep.' "I am very sorry, my deal-, very," said the old gentleman, apologetically, "but-halloo! Fve knocked my head; here. Mary, briug me a light." "Here is a Kgbt," said the voice, and at the same moment there was a sound of a match being struck. In another moment the candle was alight, and the o wc er of the voice had turned round with it, holding it in such a fashion that its rays surrounded her like an aureole, showing Harold Quaritch that face of which the memory had never left him- There was the same powerful, brood brow, the same nobil? ity of look, the same brown eyes and soft waving hair. But the girlhood had gone out of it; the face was now tho face of a woman, who knew what life was and had not found ? it too easy. It had lost some of its dreami? ness, he thought, though it bad gained in in? tellectual force; as for the figure, it was much more admirable than the face, which was, strictly speaking, not a beautiful one. The figure, however, was undoubtedly beau? tiful; indeed, it is doubtful if many women could show a finer. Ida de ia Molle was a large, strong woman, and there was a bouc ber a swing and a lissome grace which is very rare, and as attractive as it is rare. She was now nearly six-aad-iweuty years of j age, and, nor- having begun to wither in ac- j cord ance wich the fate which overtakes j nearly all unro?oried women after 80, was at her very best. Harold Quaritch, glancing at her weil poised head, her perfect bust and arms (for she was in evening dress), ?nd her gracious form, thought to himself that he hod never seen a nobler looking woman. * "Why, my dear father," she went on as i she watched the match burn up and held it j to itbe candle, "you made such a fuss this I morning about the dinner being punctually at 7:30, and now it's 8 o'clock, aud you are not dressed. It is enough io ruin any cook," and she broke off for the first time, perceiv? ing that her father was not alone. "Yes, my dear, yes," said the old gentle- j man, "I dare say I did. Is is human to err, j my dear, especially about dinner on a fine evening. Besides, I h?ve made amends and | brought you a visitor, our uew neighbor, i CoL Quaritch. Col. Quaritch, let me intro? duce you to my daughter, Miss de la Molle." "1 think that we have met before," said Harold, ha a somewhat nervous fashion, as j he stretched ont his hand. "Yes," answered Ida,.taking it, "I re? member. It was in the long drift, five years ago, on a windy afternoon, when my hat i blew over the hedge and you went to fetch It* "You have a good memory, Miss de la Molle," said he, feeling not a little pleased that she should have recollected the inci? dent. "Evidently not better than your own, CoL Quaritch," was her ready answer. "Ksides, one sees so few strangers here that one nat? urally remembers them It is a piace where nothing happens-time passes-that is all" * Meanwhile the old squire, who had been making a prodigious fuss with his hat and stick, which ho managed to send clattering down the flight of stone steps, departed to got ready, .saying in a kind of roar as he j went that Ida was to order in the dinner, as j be would be down in a minute. Accordingly she rang the bell, and told j the maid to bring iu the soup in five min- j ute?, and to lay another place. Then turn- ? ing to Harold, she began to apologize to him. I **I don't know what sort of a dinner you { will get, CoL Quaritch," she said; "it is so j provoking of my father; ho never gives one j the ieast warning when he is going to ask any one to dinner." "Not at all, not at all," he answered hur? riedly. "It is I who ought tc apologize, coming down on you like-like" "A wolf on the fold," suggested Ida. "Yes, exactly," ho went on earnestly, look? ing at bis coat, "but not in purple and gold." j "Well," she went on, laughing, "you will get very little to eat for your pains, and I ! know that soldiers always like good dinners." | "How do you know that, Miss de la M??leP j "Oh, because of poor James and his friends j whom he used to bring here. By tho way, CoL Quaritch," she went on, with a sudden softening of the voice, "you have been in Egypt, 1 know, because I have so often seen your name in the papers; did you ever meet j my brother thereP "I knew him slightly," he answered; "only very slightly. I did not know that he was ! your brother, or, indeed, that you had a brother. He was a dashing officer." What he did not say, however, was that he j also knew him to have been one of the wild? est and most extravagant you;::: raen in an extravagant regiment, and as such had to some extent shunned his society on the few occasions when be had been thrown in with him Perhaps Ida, with a woman's quick? ness, divined from his tone that there was something behind his remark; at any rate she did not ask him for particulars of their slight acquaintance. **He was my only brother," she continued. "There never were but us two, and, of course, his loss was a great blow to me. My father cannot get over it at all, although"-and she broke oft* suddenly and rested her head upou b*.r hand. At this moment, too, the squire wa3 heard advancing down the stairs, shouting to the servants as be came. "A thousand pardons, my dear, a thousand parlons," he sa i. as be entered the roora; "but, well, if you wiJl forgive particulars, I was quite una . to discover the whereabouts of a certain n . ssary portion of the male attira Now, Ck; Quaritch, will you take my daughter? Stop, you don't know the way-perhaps I had better show it to you wita the candle." Accordingly be advanced out of the vesti? bule, and turning to the left, led the way down a long passage till he reacned the dining room. This apartment was com? modious, though not larga lt was lighted by three narrow windows, which looked out j upon the moat, and bore a considerable air of solid comfort. The table, made of black oak, which was of extraordinary solidity and weight, was matched by a sideboard of tho same material and apparently of the same date, both pieces of furniture being, as Mr. de la Molle informed his guests, relics of the old castle. Un this sideboard were placed several wry massive ancient plate, on each of which waa rudely engraved three falcons or, the I arms of tba De Ia Molla family, one piece, in deed, a very ancient salver, Loaring tua1 the Boisseys-a ragged oak, in an escatc of pretense-showing thereby that it d from the De Ia Molle who, in tho tim Henry VII, had obtained the property marriage with the Boissey heiress. As the dinner, which was a simple went on, tho conversation having turned way, the obi squire had this piece of { brought by the servant girl to Harold ( ritch for him to examine. "It is very curious," he said. "Eave much of this. Mr. do la Molle C* "No, indeed," he said, "I wish I hath all vanished in the time of Charit L" ''Melted down, 1 suppose,"sai;i tho coir "No, that is the odd part of it. I d think it was. It wss hidden somewber don't know where, cr perhaps it was tur into money and the money hidden. Bi wiil tell you the story, if yon like, as soo we have done dinner." Accordingly, as soon as the servant removed the cloth, and, after the old fash placed the wine upon the naked wood, squire began his tale, of which the follow is the substance: "In the time of James I the Do la M family was at the height of its prosper that is, so far as money goes. For sevi generations previous the representatives the family had withdrawn themselves fi any active participation in public affairs, i living hereat small expenso upon their lax which were at that time very large, 1 amassed a quantity of wealth that, for age, might fairly be calledjenormons. Tl Sir Stephen de la Molle, the grandfather the Sir James who lived in the time James I, left to his son, who was also nan Stephen, a sum of not less than ?23,<XX gold. This Stephen was a great miser, t tradition says that he trebled the sum in life time. Anyhow, he died rich as Crees and abominated "alike by his tenants and the country side, as might be expected wi a gentleman of his name and fame degrax himself, as this Sir Stephen undoubtedly d to the practice of usury. "With the next heir, Sir James, howev the old spirit of the De la Molles seems have revived, although it is sufficiently ch that he was by no means a spendthrift, but, the contrary, a careful man, though one w maintained his station and refused to soil fingers with such base dealing as it h pleased his uncle to da Going to court became, perhaps on account of bis wealth considerable favorite with James I, to wh( he was greatly attached, and from wh< he bought a baronetcy. Indeed, the b proof of his devotion is, that he on two oc< sions, lent large sums of money to the ki which were never repaid. On the aceo:<si of Charles I, however, Sir James left coi under circumstances which were, never qu cleared up. It is said that, smarting und some slight which was put upon him, made a somewhat brusque demand for t money that he had lent to James. There the king, with sarcastic wit, congratul?t him on the fact that the spirit of his une Sir Stephen De la Molle, whose name w still a byword in the land, evidently si vived in the family. Sir James turn white with auger, bowed, and without word left the court, nor did he ever retu thither. "Years passed, and tho civil war was at i height. Sir James had as yet steadily i fused to take any share in it He had nev forgiven the insult put upon him by tl king, for, like most of his race, of whom it w said that they never forgave an injury ai never forgot a kindness, he was a pertin dons man. Therefore he would not lift finger in the king's cause, but still loss won he help the Roundheads, whom he haft with a singular hatred So time went, till ; last, when he was sore pressed, Charis knowing his great wealth and influenc brought himself to write a letter to this S James, appealing to him for support, and e pecially for money. " *I bear,' said the king in his letter, tb Sir James do la Molle, who was aforetyn well affected to our person and more esp coally to the late king, our sainted father, dot stand idle, watching the growing of th bloody struggle and lifting no band. Sue was not the way of the race from which 1 sprung, which, unless history doth great] lie, hath in the past been each found at tl side of their kings striking for the right is said to mo also that Sir James de la Mol doth thus place himself aside, blowin neither hot nor cold, because of some shar words which we spake in heedless jest man a year that's gone. We know not if this I true, doubting if a man's memory be so lonj but if so it be, then hereby do we crave h pardon, and nc more can we do. And no is our estate one of grievous peril, and sorel do we need the aid of God an?! mau. Ther fore, if the heart of our subject Sir Janies c* Ia Molle be not rebellious against us, as w cannot readily credit it to be, we d? imploi present his aid in men and money, of whic last it is said be hath large store, this lette being proof of our urgent ueed.' "These were, as nearly as I can remember the very words of the letter which was wri' ten in his own hand, and show pretty clearl how hardly he was pressed. It is said ths when he read it, Sir James, forgetting bi grievance, burst into tears, and, taking th paper, wrote hastily as follows, which last h certainly did, for I have seen the letter in th museum: 'My liege-Of the past I will nc speak. It is past. But since it hath gre ciously pleased your majesty to ask mine ai< against the rebels who would overthrow you throne, rest assured that all I have is at you majesty's disposal, till such time as you enemies are discomfited. It hath please? Providence to so prosper my fortunes that have stored away in a safe place, till thea times be past, a very great sum in gold whereof I will at once place 10,000 pieces a the disposal of your majesty, so soon as a sa ff means can be provided of conveying th' same, seeing that I had sooner die than tba these great moneys should fall into the hand of the rebels to the furtherance of an evi cause,' "Then the lotter went on to say that th< writer would at once buckle to and raise i troop of horse among his tenantry, and that if other satisfactory arrangements could no: be made for the conveyance of the moneys he would bring them in person to the king. "Aud now comes the climax of the story. The messenger was captured, and Sir James incautious letter taken from his boot, as i result of which he, within ten days' t?:iie found himself closely besieged by 500 Hound heads, under the command of one Col. Play? fair. The castlo was but ill provisioned foi a siege, and in the end Sir James was driver; by sheer starvation to surrender. No soonoi bad he obtained an entry than Col. Playfair sent for his prisoner, and to his astonishment produced to Sir James' face his own letter tc the king. " 'Now, Sir James,' ho said, Vo have th? hive, and I must ask you to lead us to the honey. Where te these great moneys whereof you talk herein? Fain would 1 bo fingering these ?0,000 puses in gold, the which you have so snugly stowed away.' " 'Ay,' answered old Sir James; 'you have the hive, but the secret of the honey you have not, nor shall you have it The ?O.OGC pieces in gold is where it is, and with it as much moro. Find it if you may, colonel, and take it if you can.' " '1 shall find it bj to-morrow's light, Sir James, or otherwise-well, or otherwise you die.' " 'I must die; all men do, colonel; but if I die tho secret diss with me.' " 'This wo shall seo,' answered the colonel, grimly, and old Sir James was marched off to a cell, aud there closely confino? 1 on bread and water. But he ?lid not die tho next day, nor the nert, nor for a week, indeed. "Every day bc. was brought np before the colon*! and questio:;cd as tu where the treas? ure was under the threat of immediate death, not being suffered meanwhile to com tmmir: : . by word or sign with any one, save t?e of;U>*r8 of the rebels, ami every day he refused, i'll at last his inquisitors patience gave .>;?:. and he was told frankly that if ho d;d not communicate the secret be would bo ..r '..)... i ?t;r f'd'lowKijj.day "Old Sir James laughed, and said thnt shoot him they mierht, but that he consigned his soul to the devil if ho would enrich t hem with his treasures, and then astod that hi* Bible might l>o brought to him that ho might read therein and preparo himself for death "They gave him the Bible and left him Next morning at the dawn a file of Round? heads marched him out into the court yard of the castle, and here he found Col. Play? fair and hi* officers waiting. "'Now, Sir James, for your last word. Will you reveal whore the treasure lies, or will you choose to die? M 'J wiJJ not reveal,' answered the old mau. 'Murder me if you wilt The act is worthy of holy Presbyters. J have spoken and my mind is fixed." " 'Bethink you,' said tho colonel. "'I have thought,' he answered, 'ana * am ready, Slay me and seek the treasure. i But ono tning I ask. My young son is not j here. In France bath be been this three j years, end naught knows ho of where I have [ hid this gold. Send to him this Bible when j I am dead Kay, search it from page io j pp.?e. There is naught therein save what 1 j have writ here upon thjs last sheet. It is all I 1 have left to give.' ! " 'The book shall bo searched,' answered the colonel, 'and if naught is found therein it shall be sent. And now, in the name of Clod, 1 adjure you, Sir James, let not the love of lucre stand between you and your life. Here 1 make you one last offer. Dis? cover but to us the ?10,000 whereof you speak in this writing'-and he held up the letter to tho king-'and you shall go free refuse and you die.' " '1 refuse,' he auswered. " 'Musketeers make ready/ shouted the i colonel, and the filo of men stepped forward. "Hut at that moment there came np so ! furious a squall of wind, together with douse and cutting rain, that for awhile the execu? tion was delayed. Presently it passed, and the wild light of the Novomber morning swept out from the sky, and revealed the doomed man kneeling upon the sodden turf, with the water running from his white hair and beard, and praying. They called to him to stand up, but he w* aid not, and continued praying. Ko they sit?t him on his knees." "ttTclV said CoL Quaritch, "at any rate he died like a gallant gentleman." At tliat moment there was a knock at the door, aud the servant came in. "What is it?" asked the squire. .'(George is here, ploaso, sir," said the girl, "and says that ho would like to see you." "Confound him!" growled the old gentle? man; "he is always here af ter something or other. I suppose it is about the Moat farm. He was going to see Janter today. Will you cxruse me, Quaritch* My daughter will tell you the end of the story if you care to hear any moro. I will join you in the drawing j room." I CHAPTER IV. THE END OF THE TALE. As ?con as her father had gone Ida rose and suggested that if Col. Quaritch had done j his wine they should go into the drawing ? room, which they accordingly did. This room was much moro modern than either the vestibule or the dining room, and had a general air and flavor of the Nineteenth cen? tury young lady about it There were the little tables, the draperies, the photograph frames, and all the hundred and one knick? knack and odds and ends by means of which i a lady of taste makes a room lovely in the eyes of brutal man. It was a very pleasant place to look upon, thia drawing room at Honhara castle, with ita i irregular recesses, its somewhat faded j colors illuminated by the soft light of a j shaded lamp, and ils genuine air of feminine ? dominion. Harold Quaritch was a man wno bad seen much of the world, but had not seen much of drawing rooms, or, indeed, of ladies at large. They had not come in his way, or if they had come in his way he had avoided them. Therefore, perhaps, was he the more susceptible to such influences when ha came in contact with them. Or perhaps it was the ; presence of Ida's gracious self which threw a charm about tho place that added to its natural attractiveness, as the china bowls of lavender and rose leaves added perfume to ? the air. Anyhow, it struck him that ho had : never seen a room which conveyed to his mind such an idea of gentle rest and refine? ment "What a charming room," he said, as bs entered it. j "I am glad you think so," answered Ida; ? "because it is my own territory, and I ar? ranged it." "Yes," he said, "it is easy to see that." "Well, wouM you like to hear the end of ' the story about Sir James and his treasure ?" "Certainly; it interests mo very much." "It positively fascinates me," said Ida, with emphasis. "Listen, and I will tell you. After ? they had shot old Sir James they took the Bible oil him, but whether or no Col. Play? fair ever sent it to the son in France is not j known. "The story is all known historically, and it is known that, as my father said, he asked that his Biblo might be sent, but nothing more. This son, Sir Edward, never lived to return to England. After his fathers mur? der tho estates wero seized by the Parlia? mentary party, and the old castle, with the exception of the gate towers, razed to tho ground, partly for military purposes aud j partly in the long and determined attempt j j that was msdo to discover old Sir James' j treasure, which might, it was thought, have I been concealed in some secret chamber in tho j '.vails. But it was all of no use, and CoL j ! Playfair found that In letting his temper get I the better of him and shooting Sir James, be j had done away with the only chance of find- ! ing tho money that he was ever likely to ! have, for to all appearance the secret had j died with its owner. There was a great noiso j abo?:? it at the time, and the colonel was ce graded from his rank in reward for what he ? he had done. Is was presumed that oki Sir James must have had accomplices iu the hiding of so great a mass of gold, and every means, by way of threats and promises of reward-which at lost grew to half of the total amount that should be discovered-was j taken to induce these to como forward if they j existed, but without result. And so the mat? ter went on, till after a few years the whole thing died away and was forgotten. "Meanwhile the son, Sir Edward, who was tho second and last baronet, led a wandering life abroad, fearing or not caring to return to England, now that all his property had been ? seized. When he was two-and-twenty y oars I cf age, however, he contracted an imprudent I marriage with his cousin, a lady of the name j of Ida Dofferleigh, a girl of good blood and ! great beauty, but without means. Indeed, ; she was the sister of George Dofferleigh, who ? was a cousin and companion in exile of Sir j I Edgard's, and, as you will presently see, my j j liuc-al ancestor. Well, within a year of this j I marriage poor Ida, my namesake, died, with j I her baby, of fever, chiefly brought on, they ! 6ay, by want and anxiety of mind, and tbs j shock seems to have turned her husband'* I brain. At any rate, within threo or four j months cf her death be committed suicide, t But beforo he dkl so he formally executed a rather eJal>oratc will, by which be left all his estates in England, 'now unjustly withheld from mc, contrary to law and natural right, by thc rebel pretender Cromwell, together j with tho treasure h;d(i??;i thereon orc'^ewbera i by .ny late murdered father, Elr James de la Molle,' to John Geoffrey Dofferleigh, his cousin, and the brother of uis late wifo and his heir forever, on condition only of his assuming the name and arms of the De !a Molle family, the direct line cf which became ' extinct with himself. Well, of course, this will, when executed, was to all appearances j so much waste paper, but within thref. years from its execution Charlees II was king of England. "Thereon John Dofferleigh produced the docuiccnt, and on assuming the name and arms of Do la Molle actually succeeded in obtaining tho remains of the castle and a considerable portion of the landed property, though the baronetcy became extinct. His son it was who built this present house, and he is our direct ancestor, for though my father talks of them as though they were-it is a littlo weakness of his-tho old Do la Melles were not our direct malo ancestors." "Well," said Harold, "and did Dofferleigh find the treasuref ' "No, ah. no, nor anybody else. The treasure has vanished. Ho bunted for it a great deal, and ho did find those pieces of plate which yon ?aw to-night, hidden away j somewhere, 1 don't know where, but there was nothing else with them." "Perhaps tho whole thing was nonsense," said Harold, reflectively. "No," said Ida, shaking her head, "I nm sure it was not; 1 am sure the treasure is hid? den away somewhere to this da}*. Listen, Col. Quaritch-ycu have not heard quite all tho story yet-1 found something." "You whatf "Wait a minute and I will show you." and going to a cabinet in the corner she unlocked it, and took out a dispatch box, which she also unlocked "Here," sho said, "I found this. It is tho Bible that Sir James begged might be sent to his son, just before they shot Lim, you remember," ami sho handed him a small brown book. Ho took it and examined it j carefully. It was bound in leather, and on j the cover wns written in largo letters, "Sir j j James do la Molle. Honbam Castle, 1611." I Nor was this ali. The first sheets of tho Bible, which was ono of tbe earliest copies of the authorized version, were torn out, and the top corner was also gone, having to all appearance been shot off by a bullet, a pre? sumption tbat a dark stain of blood upon the cover and edges brought near to certainty. "Poor fellow," said Harold, "he must have had it in his pocket when he was shot Where did you find itf .... _ "Vos, 1 suppose so," said Ida; "in tact I bare no doubt of it. I found it when I was a cbild in an old oak chest in the basement of the western tower, quite hidden up in dust and rubbish and bits of old iron. But look at tho end and you will seo what he wrote in it to his eon Edward. Here I will chow you," and leaning over him she turned to the last pago of the book. Between the bottom of the page and the conclusion of the final chapter of Revelation there bad been a small blank space now densely covered with crabbed writing in faded ink, which she read aloud. It ran as follows: "Do not grieve for me, Edward, my son, that I am thus suddenly dono to death by rebel murderers, for naught bappeneth but according to God's wilt. And now fare? well, Edward, till wo shall meet in beaven. My moneys have I hid, and on account thereof I die unto this world, knowing that not one piece shall Cromwell touch. To whom God shall appoint, shall all my treas? ure be, for naught can I communicate." "There," said Ida, triumphantly. "What do you think of that, Col. Quaritch? The Bible, I think, was never sent to his son; but here it is, and in that writing, as I solemnly believe," and she laid her white fingers upon the faded characters, "lies the key to wher? ever it is that tho money is hidden, only 1 fear that I 6hall never mako it out. For years I have puzzled over it, thinking that it might be some form of acrostic, but I can mako nothing of it. I have tried it all ways. I have translated it into French, and had it translated into Latin, but still I can find out nothing-nothing. But some day somebody will hit upon it-at least I hope sa" Harold shook his bead. "I am afraid," he said, "that what has remained undiscovered for so long will remain so tiil tho end of the chapter. Perhaps the old Sir James was hoaxing his adversaries P "No," said Ida, "*or if ho was, what be? came of all the money? Ho was known to be one of the richest men of his day, and that he was rich, one can see from his letter to the king. There was nothing after his death, except his lands, of course. Oh, it will be found some day, twenty centuries hence probably, much too late to be of any good to us," and she sighed deeply, while a pained and wearied expression spread itself over her handsome face. "Well," said Harold, in a doubtful voice, "there may be something in it. May I tako a copy of that writing.1" "Certainly," said Ida, laughing, "and if you find the treasure we will go shares. Stop, I will dictate it to you." Just as this process was finished and Harold was shutting up his pocketbook, in which he put tho fair copy he had executed on a half sheet of note paper, the old squire came into the room again. Looking at his face, his visitor saw that his interview with "George" had evidently been anything but satisfactory, for it bore an expression of exceedingly low Bpirite. "Well, father, what is the matter F asked his daughter. "Oh, nothing, my dear, nothing,*1 ho an? swered, in melancholy tones. "George has been herc, tlxct is all." "Yes, and I wish he would keep away," she said, with a little stamp of her foot, "for he has always some bad news or other." "It is the times, my dear, it is the times; it isn't George, I really don*t know what has come to the country." "What is it?" said Ida, with a deepening expression of anxiety. ''Something wrong about the Moat farm?" "Yes; Janter has thrown it qp, ofter all, and I am sure I dont know where I am to ' find another tenant" "You see what the pleasures of landed property are, CoL Quaritch," said lela, turn? ing toward him with a smile which did net somehow convey a great sense of cheerfulness. "Yes." he said, "I know. Thank goodness I have only the ten acres that my dear old aunt left ms. And now," ho added, "1 think that I must be saying good night It is 10:30, and 1 expect that old Mrs, Jobson is sitting up for me." Ida looked up in remonstrance, and opened her lips to speak, and then from some reason that did not appear changed her mind and held out her hand. "Good night, Col. Qua? ritch," sho said. "I am so pleased that we are going to havo you as a neighbor. By the way, I havo a few people coming to play lawn tennis here to-morrow afternoon. Will you como too?" "What!" broko in the squiro, in a voice of irritation ; "more lawn tennis parties, Ida? I think that you might have spared mo for once-with all this business on my bands, too." "Nonsense, father," said his daughter, with some acerbity. "How can a few people play? ing lawn tennis hurt you? lt is quite useless lo 6hut one's self up and be miserable over things that one can't help." The old gentleman collapsed with an air of pious resignation, aud meekly asked who was coming. "Oh, nobody in particular. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries-Mr. Jeffries is our clergyman, you know, CoL Qua-ritcb-and Dr. Bass and tho two Miss Smiths, one of whom he is supposed to be in love with, and Mr. and Mrs. Quest, and Mr. Edward Cossey, and a few more." "Mr. Edward Cosseyl" said the squire, jumping off his chair; "really, Ida, you know that I detest that young man; that 1 consider him an abominable young man, and I think that you might have shown more consideration to me than to have asked him here." *T could not help it, father," she answered, coolly. "He was with Mrs. Quest when I asked ber, so 1 bad to ask bim, too. Be? sides, I rather like Mr. Cossey, ho is always so polite, and I don't seo why yon should take such a violent prejudice against him. Anyhow, he is coining, and there is an end of it" "Cossoy, Cossey," said Harold, throwing himself into tho Breach. "I used to know that name." It seemed to Ida that he winced a little as he said it "Is ho one of tho great banking family?" "Yes," said Ida, "be is ono of the sons. They say he will have half a mi i i ion of money, or moro, when his father, who is very infirm, dies. He is looking after the branch banks of his house in this part of the world, at least, nominally. Really, I fancy that Mr. Quest manages them; certainly he manages the Boisingkam branch." "Well, well," said the squire, "if they are coming, I suppose they are coming. At any rate, I cia ?jo out walking. If you are going homo, Quaritch, I will walk with you. I want a btt'o air." "Col. Quaritch, yon have not said if you will come to my party to-morrow yet," said Ida, as he stretched out bis hand to say good-by. "Oh, thank you, Miss Do la Molle; yes, I think I can come, though 1 play tennis atrociously." "Oh, we all do that Well, good night. I am so very pissed that j-ou have come to livoat Molehill; it will bo so nice for my father to have a companion," sho added as an afterthought "Yes," said the colonel, grimly, "we aro almost of an age; good night" Ida watched the doo" ?lese, and then Ida watched the dr.nr close. Iraixxl her arm on tho mantelpiece, and re fleeted that she liked CoL Quaritch very much, so much that even his not very beauti? ful physiognomy did not repel her, indeed, rather attracted ber than otherwise, "Do you know," she said to herself, "I think that that is the sort of man that I should like to j marry. Nonsense," she added, with an im? patient shrug, "nonsense, you are nearly six- ; and-twenty; altogether too old for that sort j of thins. And now there is this new trouble about the Moat farm. My poor oi?l dad. Well, it is a bard world, aod I think that sleep is about thc best thing in it.5' And, with a sigh, she lighted her candi? to go to bed, then charged her mind, and sat down to await her father's return. ITO RE CONTINUED. 1 The Favorite Medicine ior Throat and Lung Diffi? culties has long been, and still is, Ayer's Cherry Pectoral. It cures Croup, Whooping Cough, Bronchitis, and Asthma; soothes irritation of tho Larynx and Fauces; strengthens the Vocal Organs; allays soreness of the Lungs; prevents Consumption, and, even in advanced stages of that disease, relieves Coughing and induces Sleep. There is no other preparation for dis? eases of the throat and lungs to be com? pared with this remedy. *'My w?fo had a distressing cough, with pains in the side and breast. We tried various medicines, but none did her any good until I got a bottle of Ayer's Cherry Pectoral, which has cured her. A neighbor, Mrs. Glenn, had tho measles, and the cough was relieved by the use of Ayer's Cherry Pectoral. I have no hesitation in recommending this Cough Medicine to every one afflicted."-Robert norton. Foreman Headlight, Morrillton, Ark. "I have been afflicted with asthma for forty yeara. Last spring I was taken with a violent cough, which, threatened to terminate my days. Every ono pro? nounced me in consumption. ? deter? mined to try Ayer's Cherry Pectoral. Its effects we're magical. I was immedi? ately relieved and continued to improve until entirely recovered."-Joel Bullard, .Guilford, Conn. " Six months ago I had a severe hem? orrhage of the lungs, brought on by an incessant cough which deprived me of tsleep and rest. I tried various reme 'dies, but obtained no relief until I be igan to take Ayer's Cherry Pectoral. A ?ew bottles of this medicine cured me." iMrs. E. Coburn, 19 Second st., Lowell, (Mass. "For children afflicted with colds, coughs, sore throat, or croup, I do not know of any remedy which will give more speedy relief than Ayer's Cherry Pectoral. I have found it, also, invalu? able in cases of Whooping Cough." - Ann Lovejoy, 1257 Washington street, Boston, Mass. * Ayer's Cherry Pectoral, PREPARED BY Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Sold by all Druggist. Price $1 ; six bott lee, $5. FLAIR TAL I wish to inform those who have not yet examined my beautiful and cheap stock of DRY GOODS, NOTIONS, SHOES, LADIES' AND GENTS' HATS, STAPLE AND FANCY GROCERIES, that by fair dealings and Low Prices, my trade is increasing daily, if they will give me an opportaaity of showing them through my stock and giving them prices, I am satis? fied I will add their names to my fast increas? ing list of customers. Polite and attentive clerks icill take pleasure in sha teing goods. B. J. BARNETT, Main Street, in the Bend, Oct. 24_Sumter, S- C. BRONSON- HOOSE, Sumter, S. C. RATES-?1 PER DAV Liberal deduction according to time. Comfortable Rooms. Good Table, Private Parlor for Ladies. J. H. DIXON, Nov. 28. Proprietor. Mrs. fiile ai Miss Miller, Have opened their steck of Fall and Winter Millinery, And invite the l*d>.?s to call and examine the same before buying. Hats and Bonnets? of the latest st vies. ZEPHYRS IN ALL COLORS] AND SHADES. RIBBONS, FEATHERS, FLOWERS, and everything pertaining thereto will be shown with pleasure. Oct. 3. FOR SALE. SEVERAL DESIRABLE BUILDING LOTs. Apply to Nov. 14 m THUS E. RICHARDSON. -ir ? 1 I'IFT r " r i m ?? ? im ii iiriiiTniia i ? ? a mm WMIII B^MI New Advertisements. TO ADVERTISERS A list of 1000 newspapers divided into STAT KS AND SECTIONS will be sent on application-FREE. To those who want their advertising to pay, we cnn o tie r no better medium fer thorough ?nd affective wotk than i he vu rh. us sections ot" our Select Lo.-sl Lis?. GEO. P. ROWELL & CO., Newspaper Advertising Bureen, Oct 3 IO Spruce street. New York. _,U EP? B S 5 T^c ?^pei?tic! Oiedcl>213t?*ed.wfeotli tv ? rTv?? ."TK?.' -.< ?? VCMTK of iniue or . v- tl* ?v exyosavo ix lialarirl ilegioas, j n lit fir.tl T?tirs r???si -Lito cao?* genicl | . :?:?** ive ever ot f<src>i Gxe ? erinpr Try TJic.Tui &4&irly? ^ v?^ro-??i??iri2v, pnve Weftd. strmtg *M.J) ETS&TWHERX. FIRST MS M 101 AT BOTTOM PRICES WATCHA AND SOUTHRON JOB AFHCB WE WOULD LIKE -TO TO OUR WELL SELECTED STOCK OF JD Ia our Dry Goods stock you will find many bargains in low* priced Dress Goods, Flannels. Shawls and Blankets. : - . -. We are selling Gent's Heavy Undershirts at 50 cts. that can'tT be duplicated for less than 65 cts. in any- city- in the United^ States. Ked Flannel Shirts 50 cts. each. . % \ We are selling hand se wed Shoes for men at $3.50^ every "'. pair guaranteed. Ladies7 hand sewed at $2.50, every pair sold witii'-'a 'gitaran^;1. tee tag on same. Ladies' neat solid shoes at ?1.25 ; worth anywhere ?1.65. " OUR LINE OF PLAIN AND FANCY GROCERIES are the most choice and freshest in the city and th?y/ are sold at Rock Bottom prices. We make special prices in quantities. There is no house in the city that carries the assortment ofr canned goods we carry. Our 25 cts. Butter is warranted. A fresh lot of the widely "' known A. ?, Crackers, just received. Hams, Breakfast Strips* and Smoked Tongue of the best brands at . CAR LOAD HORSES AND MULES TO ARRIVE ON At the Sale and Feed Stables of Nov 22, '88. The Notice of Every One is Called to the Fact that E. W. DURANT & SOM Keep a Full Supply of Goods in their Line, . . Mm Supplies, Mm Sspss, IOQSSM? SopB?ies, W COOKING AND HEATING STOVES "OF BEST MAKE! WAGON AND BUGGY MATERIAL FROM A BOLT TO A WHEEL. PUMPS, BOTH . - IRON AND WOOD. . Belting in Rubber and Leather, and Packing of aU Imported Guns, Muzzle and Breech Loading!^ PISTOLS IN VARIETY FROM $1 ??. POWDER, SSOT AN?T2 SHELLS, Sic , AND We are Agents for the Great Western Powder Company. - TABLE] AND POCKET CUTLERY, ?fee. With many thanks to a generous public for their past liberal patronage, end soliciting^ still their kind support, we.?ire il?'?pec?fu!ly, etc., . RV W. DURANT & SON/ ? Sept. 12. Main Street. Opposite Bank. 1889-EXCELS ALL OTHERS-? 889 LITERATURE, ART, END FASHION THIS BEST AND CHEAPEST of ?ho lady's-hooks. Tt gives rs-rr for the money and c0^^8 ffreater merits thar, an3' other. Sn<*h popular anther: ?5 ?VrS. ?A'CY H. Hooper, j^J"r*" Rebscca Kardinu Davis, M<ss M. G. McClelland. Miss Alice Bo^^an. > Ed^ar Fawcett. Frank Le? Benedict. Howard pre-y. rr.d r. hec? others *n.e for *. F?TKRSox," a^d their naaies ate a gn.irar.ies of thc exce&ence of their t?o::cs. - TFK >TAi*AZrVE trill Jw> rc.-.rn<o!v in?:?irat^ trith oVwr.l f?^ot j?r.d4 cihor engraving? ana ?mtv FANCY AND TTC I?T?-T A RLE PATTERNS, plinth i-i c, -ors. ^ ? ? . TH!? FASHION" DEPARTMENT will present J^'^m^SSetaSS^ for ontdoor and hon*, war. and will hare, each month. A HANDSOME COIOKED FA>5*Ii*N PLATE, printed from steel. , r-b>~ ' Ccntrihntiowon HEALTH. THE TOTLET, COOKERY, THE OARRFN. aru? ^V**" , HOLD S?ATTERS generally ?rill be given in c?ch nnabcr, making a Iv ok iirw?cal?c towry ELEGANT PREMIUMS FOR GETTING UP CL I-33 ! ? TERMS, ALWAYS XK ADVANCE, $2.00 A TSAR. ^ - 3 Copies for So ~. - f With the eVr>nt K*-k. ?Bn,T? r>^,\ Pl.^irs." nv a Isrs^engraving, {" 3 ? " 4..?0 "j "TV Morning Greeting," as a premium for yt?ir? ~n The rich. 4 Copies for ?6.40 f With an extra ropy of the Xaghzfce fi* ?SS9, a a praiaa, to *e*. g ?< ?. O.??O ) parson getting i;p the dut?. 5 Copies for S:?.f>f? f Wit:? nrtnr ^:;n rrv.rtV^C'rin^-rl^wl tV brr ^pur. . 7" ? ? 10.^0 j ingar the book ?Bnds und to the peseon grt?fcg?ptli*ca*. For Larger Q!u2ss, a saS ci Eso&as^s Bforks rr a Sssrksg-Ssc??sse! 48?Sperfmen< s??nt !rn??K c-' vp dn!* ^..*:,.. Hsistssc Kt., rM?a.kiphia, Rfc <j^^nwwaw 1BJU..W -BB.waaocge ?^?-TT THE PANSY FOR 1839. Edited ?).v PANSY-M rs. G. R. Alden. Thc Pans* is ar? illustrated monthly con? taining fruin thirty-five to forty pages o'. read i oj: matter, lt is devoted to yoting folks from eijiht to fit:een. Its contributors are arnon;; tho brst writers for young to s.s. Pansy's N-*- So?;:?' will run throughout the-.ycarand is entitled Ti.*' WHY OUT. Paney will ai;o continue ncr Golden Text ?Stories. Margaret Sidney l:.is aseriV.! storr entitled Hot?: A story for boys. I? is tu si of the ad <rcnto.rc<, frolics ?ino ambitions cf a wide? awake hov. Mrs. (J. M. i i- ;?gsN?:i Ins tales of ?'lii.: Hfe and rhi?d Ways, in a new departn.eal, Baby's d' r.er. The Bib!*' !?,nd Readings, Th?-Qurer Stcry column and the P. S. Comer wi M nil be con rinued. The Pansy ts only one dollar a year. A spe. : PI* n copy for five ct-nts. Y<:it can ge? your own subscription free by sending tv.o new subscribers with two dollars j to pav for same. ^*t?i? nins: remit direct to. D. LOTHROP COMPANY, Boston. MONEY TC LOAN' IN SUMS of S300 and upwards io be so- j cured by firit mortgage on improved form j lands at S per cent, interest and a small com- j mission. Apply to' ^ MOISES & LEE, Oct lu-3m. ^^^^^ttorneys at Law. j WHOLESALE GROCSB, Auction and Ccs^ssfan Merchant AP ?ST Voil 77u- f/?w? ..:/..> :/ ta ike LT. S?. The Philip Bos? Brewing Co,' MILWAUKEE BEER, 197 EAST BA Y ?SD ASD 52 STATE Sra., . (A.H'ti'on Roora Street.) CHA/CLISTON, S. C. Consignments Solicited. NOT 25 o Brio r. wkisl?,: WHOLESALE ) ff*& *I?S Aili] Liquor Dealer. OFFICE AND SALESROOM: 183 East Bay, . . - Charleston, S.. C. ; Nor. 7 o ' ''