Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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T*5ST 8?MTKR WATCHXAK, K?t?bllah?? April, 18?O. ttB? Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thon Aims't at. be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's M TBK TKWK SOTTBHW, K<rt?Wh*etf Jon?, ic?6 Consolidated Aug. 2, 18810 ~ ~ W SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY. MAY 27, 1891._ New Series-Yol. X. So. 42. ?t?ttsfctd mry VeduMday, ar N. Gk OSTEEN, SUNTER, S. C. mut: Two Dollar? per annum-in ac- vance. IDTI?TISmiH-'l. - 0*u Square, firet insertion............. 00 Ivery subs?quent insertion...... ?0 Contracta for taree months, or longer will bu made at reduced rates. All communications which subserve private is terests ?rill be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and trina tea of respect will be charted for.. TK 8H6HK MTOSAL OF SUMTER. STATS, CITY ANO COUNTY DEPOSI? TORY, SUMTER, S. C. Paid up Capital . . . : . $75,000 00 Surplus Fend . , . . . 9,250 00 - Transacts a General Banking Business. Careful attention given to collections. SAVINGS DEPARTMENT.* Deposits of $1 and upwards received. In Urest allowpd at the rate of 4 per cent, per Annum. Payable quarterly, on finit days of January, April. July and October. R. X. WALLACE, Vice President. L. S. CAUSO*, Aug. 7 Cashier. Til BM OF ?NTER, SUMTER, S C. tHTY AKD COUNTY DEPOSITORY. Transacts & general Banking business. Ats? h*8 A Savings Bank Department, of $1.00 -sud upwards received. Interest calculated at the rate ef 4 per cent, per annum, payable quarterly. W. F. B. HAYNSWORTH, A. Warru, Ju., - President. Cashier. Aug 21. Regulate The Bowels? the whole ayn? 4 ac ii a? Headache, Dyspepsia, Ferrers, Kidney ])ise&ae*, Jfcfioa* Colic, Kalara, t3tc nib prvdBM reffalmr kablt of em? ewe? eUgeertew, without uoeae en emjay good hnallh. Sold Ewer j where. For Infants ?nd Children. Caatnri? pifimotas Digestion, and -cveroomes Fhttnlency, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrheal, and Feverishness, tlnns the child is rendered healthy and its seep Mil ?ral. Cartoria contains no >?orphine or other narcotic property. ?Csetoriafcso weH adapted to ch Jdren that 1 recommend lt ac superior to any prescription known to ma" H. A. ABCBKS, M. D., Ill Sooth Oxford St, Brooklyn, N. Y. .*! ase Caatoria fat my practice, and find it a^ecfeDy adapted to affections of children." Aux. JROBKETSOX, IC 30573d AveL, Kew York. "From peranualummledKe sad observation 1 eau auf that Castorf? h an excel ten ; medicine tor children, acting aa ? laxative a?l reheving the peat up bowel* and general sy stem very tran. Many mocher? hitve toM aw of its ex .cu?ent effect upon their children." Da. G. C. Osocon, Lovell, Mass. T?aCrrTACK COXPAXT, 7 ' Murray St-?et, N. Y. Di 1 ALTA DENTIIST. Office OVER BROWNS k PURDY'S STORE. Entrance on Kain Street, Between Browns A Purdy and Durant A Son. OFFICE HOURS: 9 to 130; 2 to 5 o'clock, jfamter, 8. C, April 29._ G. W. DICK, 9. D. S. Office over Begin's New Store, avntancs os vam STBUT SUMTBRTS. C. Office flours.-9 to 1:30 ; 2:30 to 5. Sept 8_ Br. T. W. BOOSHAST, DENTAL SURGEON. Office over Baltman A Bro.'e Shoe Store. ENTRANCE ON MAIN STREET. SUMTER, S. C. Office Hours-9 to 1:30 ; 2:30 to 5. Aprii-.17-o mt LOTS AND FARMING LANDS FOR SALL V?TS HAYE ON HAND more than 200 V? business, and residence lets, many of toe latter improved, for sale on easy terms. Those wanting lots would do well to consult us before baying, and those having property io ii ty or conn try for sale are requested to place same in our hands and we will find purchasers. W. A BOWMAN, & W. H. INGRAM, May 21 Real Estate Brokers & Agents. FOB SALE, Chm SEVERAL FINE BUILDING LOTS ON Calhoun sod Republican Streets, near my residence and residence of Capt. Joho Reid. A rare chance to boy a honte. Lots ail high and dry and very desirable. Terms easy. Immediate, possess?or giren. For foll particulars call ou, or address D. J. WINN. gamier, S. C., Nov. 26, 1890._ WRIGHT'S HOTEL, COLUMBIA, & C. rp a l? ?SW AND ELSG A NT BOUSE I wita ell tendero improveujes**, is no* opea for the reception of guests. 3. L. WRIGHT A SON, Proprietors. "EUSBEE STAMPS. NAME STAMPS FOR MAftfftNfi CLOTHING with indsiUMe ink, or for printing visiting sarda, and STAMPS OF ANY KIND far stamping BUSINESS CARDS, ENVEL? OPS? or anything else. Specimens of varions Styles ?n hand, which will be shown with pleas ure. The LOWAST PRICES possible, and erters fited pi oap 117. ?Cfell ou N. G. OSTEEN, Jw At tue Watehmas ?sd Sojthroo Office Sumter S. C. ESS AS??TOl By HABT KYLE DALLAS. (Copyright, 1891, bj American 'Press Associa? tion.} CHAPTER IV, Lifted the reptile to her car. In a little narrow conrt, the windows of which faced each other so closely that iheir inhabitants might have shaken liands across the intervening space, and which-was occupied entirely by the de scendants"of Ham, stood a little wooden house' conspicuous from its fellows by the fact; that an 4?herb doctor"*had es? tablished a shop there, and that upon the door was nailed a sign bearing this legend: "Madain Pinch?n, clairvoyante. Ring the third heil.* There were many signs on all the noeses, but they mostly indicated the fact that laundresses, kal sominers, chimney sweeps and house ?leaners were ready for patrons. At breakfast time the next morning after she had seen the shadow of Roy kiss the hand of the shadow of Eugenie, Maisie ascended the steps of this house, and stood on tiptoe to ring the third bell of the trio on the door post. Maisie was. a superstitious little body, and for years had secretly appealed to this dusky oracle in times of tribulation, as when her blue beads were lost or she had a bad dream. She had had greater faith in her than ever since she had prophesied a coming suitor the day before Mr. Bunny brought Roy home to dinner. Had she not said that he was handsome, and was he not superbly so? Had she not also, when Maisie made known the fact that the prophecy was realized, whispered in her ear: "If things go wrong come tc me. If your true lub is drawn away I kin draw him back. If a woman comes atwixt you I kin fix dat too. I has spells and love powders. Ibas ways and means, neber forget dat.*' "Mme. Pinch?n can help me," had Maisie said to herself as she awakened. and now she was at her door ringing the bell with feverish hand, hoping, fearing, trembling as she did so. Before the last peal had died away a black face, wrinkled as a walnut, was . thrust out of one of the dormer windows, and the soft voice of a negress uttered the words: 4Ts comin*, honey, Ts comin'. I be dar jes as soon as 1 get some coats on."" Then the head disappeared. In a moment more a wierd looking old black woman opened the door. . "Come right up, honey," she said, "dis way. Take care de matting on dem sec-otid floor folk's entryway; it's jes* a foot trap, jes' put down to save de scrub bresh, I Vpect. Ts waitm' fur you. ' Solomon say you comin'." "Oh, Mme. Pinch?n," said Maisie. "Oh, I do hope you can tell me what I want to know." "I kin. You is come 'cause you is jealous," said the woman over her shoulder. "Ohr cried Maisie, "you read my very thoughts r "Dat is de pow* I have,^ said Mme. Pinch?n, as she opened the door of her garret room. It was .a bright little place, ? with a good deal of flowered chintz hung 1 about, with gay advertising car ?s pinned i to the walls. The table had a red cloth upon it, the little stove was brightly polished and within it a fire glowed brightly. In the window hung :* par? rot's cage, and in the cage, squatted upon some moss that luid been placed there,, two little green toads. As Maisie turned her eyes toward them it seemed to her < that they winked at her. "Toad gingin' 'bout you all yesterday," ' said Mme. Pinch?n. "Singm' 'She comin', she comin'.' It's de hansome gal you is come about," said Mine. Pin? ch?n, opening the cage. "Time you tended to her. A false friend, a secret enemy. She charm your sweetheart; she sing to him. my toads say, 'She sing his heart away.' " "Oh! how do you know so much?" gasped Maisie. "Oh, Eugenie, how cruel of yon!" "Yes, Eugenie; dey say dat de name,"' said Mme. Pinch?n. "C <":. * ?T?rVg, ktiy: hop-he-who. hop dis way. ?o?f.'y?na' you. Masse Moses, you is all for business, you come here; Masse Solomon, you for lub. Bot' my toads got Bible names," she added. "Name *em after ?? wises' folks in de Bible. Hi. Solomon! hi. Solomon! dat's right." The smaller and greener of the toads had now perched on lier forefinger. She drew bim forth and closed the cage dcor and lifted the free reptile to her ear. "Whisper," she said, "whisper." All was silent in the room, and Maisie began to feel strange thrills and tremors. A soft, silvery sound was soon heard; it continued for awhile, then the toad turned its queer little protruberant e}*es full upon Maisie, and with one spring was in her lap. She uttered a wild scream. "Don' you be afraid of Solomon," said Mme. Pinch?n. "Tech him." Maisie essayed to do so. - "Oh, he is so cold. Mme. Pinch?n!" she said. "He makes me sick! Please take him away!" "Dey isn't everybody kin tech 'em," said the negress, recapturing Solomon and putting him into the cage. "Now, you want to heah what he tell me?" "Oh, yes," said Maisie breathlessly. "He say de difficulty is dat you sweet? heart got a shine to dat Eugenie," said the old woman. "Dat Eugenie jes' doin' her bes' to get him away from you. You mus' watch an' take care for youself. 3he mighty hansome, an' she sing mighty pleasant, 'deed she do." "Ah, yes," cried Maisie. "Yes. yes, ves," and she wrung her little hands. "Yes, she can charm men folks dat way, like de snake charm de bird," re? plied Mme. Pinch?n. Maisie clasped her hands. "And to think," said she, "she is my fwendf "Friends is nowhar when beaux is de question." said the old negress. "I knows, I knows," as Maisie began to cry. 4iOh, honey, honey, dis var is powerful bad, but chirk up; what you gwine carry on so fo"? Dey is better fish in de sea < ?ver vet was cotcht. Now, don' go like dat." "I love him!" sobbed Maisie: "I li the ve wy g wound he tweads on, an have a wight to do so. He U my s wt heart; he was fond of me nntil she cai There is no one else in the world. I were a belle anti a beauty and all men in the city were at my feet I wo never look ac them if Woy were thc Oh, help me! I shall go cwazy if I 1 him. Mme. Pinehon!" "Dah, dah; shsh," cooed the old worn as if she-were soothing a baby. "D, don' go onl All we has to do is to j dis var gal ont ob de way so she don' si no mo' nor look wid ber eyes no mo*, knows 'em; I has sperienee ob my ov Ts ole, bot I. has been young. Dey black ob dat kin all same as white. I was a yaller galonee- No matter knows what I Finows. Yah; what d keer for we ail? No reason we all k< for dem." A strange expression crossed her fa ?Ts sorry for you^.I is." ^she .said: "I dey is help an' jron shiH?fev it Hi, S omon. Come, Solomon.*' "She opened t door of the cage, and tho toad hopp quietly forth. She* listened, she whisp* ed; the little ' creatnre uttered his s< musical sounds; she restored him to J peron. "Solomon say dey is jes' one wa} said the old woman-"jes' one way, i oder. It's dat gal; von mus' get red her." "Git rid of her!** ga-sped Maisie. "0 Mme. Pinch?n, I hate her so that I cai help wishing her dead; but I could n kill her. 1 should lose my soul! I shon burn forever and forever iu the flam of hell. No, not that-not that!** "ShoT cried the old woman. "Wh yon mean. Miss Maisie? What yon thii ? am? Shoh, dah. shohl Murder? don' wan de debbil to fetch me my ov self. Get red ob her, I say. I mean < dem var singins of hers, ob dem di srailins an begu?ins, dem ways. Tal away her pretty looks an' her preti voice. You kin. Solomon says dey is spell-dey is ways; but will your* "Oh, that would he tewible!** sai Maisie. "To part>3?em would wright, but to make her ugly and mal her lose her voice, oh, that is f wightfu If God did it as a judgment, why, ho could I be sorry? But to do it m3"selfr "You has'n de courage/* said Min Pinetion, shutting lier mouth tight an drawing her face into a thousan wrinkles. "You is skeery; white foll is inosly skeery. Go long; dc Lor* doi help dem dat don' help demselves. S'poi she go away; he foller on long as she s pretty and sing so. Whoo! Take awa de pretty an" he come back to you. .?en' ask you do it: please yonself, be good Chris'en. help make her happy. N doubt you feel good savin' you prayei at night, an* think in" how he kiss an cuddle her."' "Oh, I could not bear itr Maisi shrieked, wringing her hands. "Hir cried the old woman. "Ho, yo got to 'less you help youself. Solomo: tell me jes* bow. Want to know?"' "Yes," said Maisie, suddenly drawin, herself up to her full height, "I will d anything. She has wobbed me, wonge me. If there is a s;pell by which I cai take her beauty fwom her.I will do it." "Dey is; but dem spells cost consider able. Miss Maisie,** said the old negress "Dey is expansive, dar is no doubt, don* know how I gib you dat spell les dan a hunerd dollars, I don'." "I have more thau that in the saving bank," said Maisie. "I saved it l>efor< Mamma Bunny adopted me. I dono: care how much i give if I can have W03 back. No, nor what happens to th? face that lures hin and thc voice thai dwaws him- f wom-iue/' Hf r own face was hard and set, hei cheeks pale, her eyebrows drawn to gether. b.-r eyes cruel, and their blu* seemed turned to green. She looked nc longer like a quaint, merry little witch, but like a female imp of Satan bent on cruel mischief. She was ready for anything, as the old woman plainly saw, anything, and a strange fellow feeling possessed the soul of the latter. She liked Maisie, with the ardent liking that old black women often feel for young white girls. She really wanted to help her, even while she in? tended to be well paid for doing so, for the money she demanded would enable lier to leave a place too hot to hold her much longer. Fortune telling was by no'means' her worst -off e-hce against so dety, and she was in danger of arrest. Moreover she was in debt. She needed the money as she had never needed it IHV fore, but she honestly intended to show Maisie how to harm her rival, and for this unknown Eugenie she had no more mercy or pity than she would for a ven emous snake on whose neck. she was al)Out to set her heel. In her youth she. too, had sulfured the pangs of jealousy,.and she had had her revenge. The memory still filled her soul with savage "joy, old as she was, toothless, wrinkled, racked with aches and pains. She would still at times rub her black liands together, chuckling, shaking her head and whispering, per? haps to Solomon, the toad, "Hi. den, she diem* get de best of it after all, dat dar yaller gal." "Bring me de hundred dollars, den, honey," she said, patting Maisie's head softly; "bring me de money. . Dey is tings in what I is gwine to gib you dat isn't to be got in shops. I digs 'era in le moonlight; I knows whar. Dey grows on de grabes of men (lat's been hung ind of women dat's kill deirselbs. Dey rrows whar blood has been spilt, some ob dem. I trabblos far to fin' 'em, but Solomon goes wid me; Solomon knows. Dey is a place I know whar a little dead oaby was put, choked fits' by its own mudder. 1 knowed, I knowed de stuif rrowed dar, so tiny mos' folks couldn't lin* it. I found it. I's gone down into ole mines to ?<*t some ob de stuff, and up into high mountains. Dat's why it cost you so much. Miss Maisie. Dey is times tgoes-I goes away and trabbles-trab? ?les-me and Solomon. Don't we, Solo? mon? eh, Solomon?" "I will get the money. Mme- Pinch?n,*' said Maisie. "I will go to the bank; I have done being good, I will fight for myself. If girls who wesemble angels can 1)0 so bad as to won other girls of their lovers, then why should not these ugly little hunchbacks like myself. 1 have a wight to Woy, a wight to ray own sweetheart. I will come? back at once*, and you will show me what to do, Mme. Pinehon." The old woman nodded, and accom? panied Maisie down stairs, opening the door for her; but when Maisie was gone Mme. Pinehon did not proceed to the grave of the murdered man. the bottom of a.mine or the top of a mountain, but hobbled into the office of the doctor who occupied the lower floor and th?-re ma ip sundry purchases. And wVn for a sec- i ond time Maisie left the house :-*he car- . ried with her a little pill box containing a greenish powder. When Mr. Bunny came home to Bond street at 3 o'clock he passedthe great parlor where Maisie was playing the "Maiden's Prayer" on the piano rind went np stairs. Mrs. Bunny was in her room arranging her bureau drawers. 'Ome early," she said as he kissed lier. "See 'ere, 'ere's the first present hever you gave me," and she showed him a blue bead ring. "I 'adn't much tc buy presents with, my dear," said he, "but I gave you one lasting thing-my 'art's love. 1 think love is out of fashion now, my lass," and he sighed. "You've some bad news, Buuny," said his wife. "Young Gifford 'as a telegram from 'ome today," said Bunny; " 'is brother is dead. 'E's the hearl now; *e is going back. There's is goodby to you and Maisie," and he gave Mrs. Bunny a letter, which she read with a grave face. " 'E makes it plain that it's off for good," said she. "Well, it would be little 'igh up the ladder for Maisie, now 'e's au earl. But I'm vexed." "I 'ope Maisie will show a little sense," said Bunny. "I'm afeared she can't where *e is con? cerned," said Mrs. Bunny. "She's not Mffif ? bit; she's l>een making candy all day." "That's a cheerful sign. T should say," said Bunny. "Unless a body does in the way of trade or that, it's a sort of play." "If you'd seen her you'd" 'ave thought 'twas witches' broth," said Mrs. Bunny, "and not a bit would she give the dog.and 'im begging for it. 'E loves sugar, you know. Why, she kicked *im away. Oh, she was as glum!" "What is your advice, old lady?" asked Bunny. "Oh, tell 'er about Roy being called 'ome, and let lier find out the rest by de? grees," said the lady. "Missis," said Bunny, "I may put my finger in some pie where it's not needed before I die, but there'll be no match? making in it. I dragged that boy into her life. She was well enough and 'appy enough without 'im. Ah, Tve done great mischief. It's well she isn't my daughter-well for that puppy, Roy Gif? ford." "Mamma Bunny," cried Maisie's voice on the stairs, 'Tm going to afternoon service at St. Joan's." "You couldn't do a latter thing, love," replied Mrs. Bunny; and when the door closed behind Maisie the two looked out of the window after her very lov? ingly. "She steps lively." said Mr. Bnnny. "Oh, the girl 'as a spirit; she won't die of it." "Bless'er, I "ope not." said Mrs.Bunny; "she's a good little creature." CHAPTER V. Eugenie sat in Dita. Morgan's pew in St. Joan's listening to the organ and thinking of home and Herr Schelling when a lady tiptoed up the aisle, and a rustle of silk, a flutter of ribbon, a toss of plumes and a tinkle of bracelets ?eased at her elbow, and she looked np to Bee Maisie and inured back to allow Li.r to enter. Maisie's eyes were gleaming and she had a red spot on either cheek. She had come thither to try the witch's spell on Eugenie-the green powder which she had mixed in certain candy balls now in her pocket. Again and again the old woman had reiterated the statement that it would rob ! ie r rival of all her power, that her face would no longer be fair nor her voice the voice of a siren, and that this being done Maisie would find her lover at her side ;igaiiL Whether the old negress lielieved this, wiio can say. but to Maisie it was a reve? lation. She had no doubt whatever, no doubt and no remorse. "Woy was mine, mine, mine." she said to herself. "I had a wight to him. She came like a wobber to steal him fwom me. It is as if I took the pistol fwom a burglar when I take her beauty and her song." Meanwhile she chat? tered in a whisper, lest Eugenie should suspect something from her silence. "What a splendid voice your clergy? man has! What lovely windows! It is such a pretty church." A little afterward the girls held the same book and repeated the responses to? gether, while Maisie was saying to her? self: "Wetch, who has twied to wob me of my Woy. soon shall thc judgment fall upon you." Had Eugenie looked at her at that mo? ment sh?? must have seen her hate in her face. But Eugenie's thoughts of Maisie were gentle and loving. Servir? was over at last; people were going out. "I ranst speak to Miss Fanning." Eu? genie whispered; "her grandmother U ill. Don't wait for me if you wish to go." "Oh. no," said Maisie, "I will not; but it is so sweet, so peaceful, so heavenly hore, one feels as if one might become au angel. So elevating that I would like to stay always." Oh, lying little Maisie. Her heart was hot with hate, and evil thoughts were in lier mind even as she spoke. "So heavenly and peaceful,*' she re? peated, fanning herself with a little crimson fan that seemed to glow like a coal of fire as she waved it briskly to and fro. "Oh. yes.** said Maisie, "one must ask after people's welatives when they are ill. or they will nevah forgive one. Which is Miss Fanning-the lady still kneeling tliere? Vewy pwobably she is pwaying for h?r dear grandma. You cannot iutewnpt her, of course. We can have a few more minutes to chat: 1 enjoy it so much. What do you suppose I have l>ee:i doing today?" "Really." said Eugenie, "I am bad at guessing." "You would never guess," said Maisie. "Making candy. Qu, it is such fun, such fwolic. 1 made poppawmint sticks and dwojis of all flavors. I bought a receipt IxKik for ten cents. 'Evewy Lad}' Her Own Confectioner.* ? have a few in my bonbonni?re.; yon must take them." Suv op ?ned the little box. "Thank you. Maisie, but you must ex? cuse me." said Eugenie. A litt 1?? scowl gathered on Maisie's forehead. Eugenie saw that she was angry. Si??'made a strong effort"tocon? quer herself. She put out lier h "rd. Out Makio was laughing again. "1 sec," she said; "those delicate peawl colored gloves they would be spoiled; but yon must taste my candy. Open your mouth ! and I will pop a piece in, so.*' She held j a little green drop between her fingers and stood on tiptoe. Eugenic laughed and opened her lips, and the next in? stant the. little ball was in her month. It was soft and sweet, but the after taste was unpleasant. Instantly Maisie popped in another. "Is it not nice? Will you have some more?*' Eugenie refrained from swallowing the second ball. "Oh, no," she said; "they are very nice, of course, quite a new idea making your own sugar plums, but I never eat candy before dinner: it takes away my appetite. Have you made any taffy? I used to make that when I was a little girl. We thought it great fun to pull it. Now Miss Fanning is rising. I must go to her. Good-by-unless you choose to wait for me.*1 Then she spoke to Miss Fanning about *??*7 ?jr??ndmother, heard that the old lady was better, and had fairly got out upon th.'; church steps when she remembered that she had left her parasol in her own pew. "I must go back and get it," she said. "Don't you feel well, dear?" asked Miss Fanning. "Oh. yes," said Eugenie. "Why do you ask?" "So silly of me," said Miss Fanning. "I thought you looked a little pale." Eugenie smiled and turned back into the church. The hours passed on. At midnight Mr. Bunny's household had retired, but Maisie, betw/;en ho?>e and fear and qualms of conscience, could not rest. Sne had slipped off her shoes that no one might hear, and in her stocking feet paced to and fro over the brilliant car pet she had chosen with such delight when Mr. Bunny first brought her home. Hers was the brightest room in the house, with its gay drapery and orna? ments, its cushions and puffs and scarves, its Japanese fans and Chinese vases, and oddities of polished brass and lacquered wood, and all the pretty trifles that a woman loves to make for the nest that is her own. Pictures hung everywhere upon the walls. Always pictures of lovers in every conceivable attitude of adora tion. Lovers kneeling at the adored one's feet, serenading her to the tinkle of the light guitar, tossing flowers to her over walls, slipping letters into her hand while sleepy duennas nodded be? hind open fans, sailing with her, skat? ing with her, kissing her l>eside silver fountains--a store of chromos and col? ored photographs which Maisie had been collecting for years, and which were her choicest treasures; but she did not glance at them tonight, nor did she even heed the gay reflections of her satin smooth hair, her golden pins and crim? son ribbons in the myriad little mirrors in all the nooks and corners where mir? rors were possible. Oue thought filled her mind. She had cast the spell, how would it act? What would it do to Eugenie? Would she be old and ugly all at once, or would she find her power gone without knowing why? How would the beauly she so feared depart? Never for a moment did she doubt that something would happen. The words of an old ballad came into her mind. As she walked to and fro she repeated them to herself: A heavier weird I will her rev?c Than ever fell upon vile woman. lier nails shall grow sharp, her teeth shall grow lung. And on her fo;:r feet she :;ha'l gang. "Ah," whispered Maisie, "the step? mother changed into a fier}' dragon. Eugenie is worse than any stepmother, bnt I don't wish that she should become a fiery dragon or even a black cat. I only want her to let my Woy alone, and she can have anybody else in the wide world. I'd wother nothing ve wy dwead fnl happened to her; I have only done what was necessary." She seemed to address a Chinese mandrin upon the mantelpiece, and as every movement that was made in the room set him to nod? ding his head he now nodded it furious? ly as if in reply. At this instaut the street door rang violently, its clang filling the silent house. The sound filled Maisie with ter? ror. At first she hid her head in the pillows of the bed, then she started up and joined Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, whom she found talking to a little messenger boy in the hall lielow. "Maisie, dear, it's a message from Mrs. ??lorgan," she said. "Miss Eugenie is missing." "They are scared out of their senses," said the boy. "I've been to twenty places. They thought she might be here." "She hasn't been here," said Mrs. Bun? ny. "Oh, dear, dear! She may be dead!* "Dead!" cried Maisie shrilly. "What nonsense! It is much more likely she luis been changed into a black cat." The messenger stared, us well lie might. "It's a poor time for jesting. Maisie, love," said Mrs. Bunny. "Your friend missing and all. it sounds heartless." Maisie burst into tears and rushed np stairs, but in her own room she began tc laugh again and to chatter to the man? darin. "The charm has worked,"' she said. "You and I know that 1 shall have my Woy back again. There can l>e nothing to attract him in a black cat." Then she laughed softly to herself and began to sing the old ballad. CHAPTER VL "Pttjwry," M nixie called xoftfy. The Ti<\Tt morning at breakfast time the Bunnys found Maisie also missing. "(rone to inquire about Miss Eugenie, I suppose,** lid Mrs. Bunny. "I hope she'll bring good news." But Maisie had betaken herself to Mme. Pinehon*s, and finding that oracle's apartments empty and all her goods and chattels vanished, and receiving of her neighbors only such information as was conveyed in the remark, "Good riddance of bad rubbish, we all say," had begun to wander al>ont the city. Where she went or why, except that she had some wild idea of meeting Roy Gifford and finding him all her own again, now that Eugenio's fascinations were at an end, she could not have said, when at titree o'clock in the afternoon she heard thc bell of St. Joan s and found herself approaching its entrance. There w: crowd about the step, an excited, si ing crowd, and as she joined it the ; ?wi, bareheaded and with his x."hite 1 floating Itchiud him on the wind, a down the street followed by two pol men. Pushing past the people they tered the church, closing the doors hind them. "Who is it?" asked a Lady stand near Maisie. "That beautiful niece of Mrs. M gan: that musical Miss Ashton," plied the other. "They have been Ir? ing for her all night. Mr. Smith foi her lying dead in her pew. Sucl 8weet girl." "What nonsense! She can't be dea said Maisie shrilly. "1 can't believe it," said the la bursting into tears. And now the doors opened, the ero drew back at the command of the licemen who preceded those who hort bier covered by a black cloth. Tread: slowly, together the}' passed down street and out of sight. Some of the ladies entered the chur others walked away: others still, mos boys and the riffraff gathered in c streets by every excitement, w driven off by the sexton and a third liceman, who afterward took his pli on the church step. "Will you go in, madame?" this lat said to Maisie, who still lingen "They will lia ve service as usual." "No, thank you," said Maisie. "S I believe not. No, it is excusable not go in." "Certainly," said the policeman. "Pt haps you'd better walk on in that ca madame." "Yes," said Maisie, but she stood sti 'Upset by what has happened?" sa the policeman, taking her by the an "It was shocking. Now which way you go, madame?" "I don't know," said Maisie; "I cai think. ' Where would you go if y were I?" "Why home, of course," said the j liceman, looking at her gravely. "Yes," said Maisie slowly. "Oh. ye; She allowed him to lead her to the c< ner, whence he returned to his post. There was a little garden spot st rounding the church containing soi well rolled grass and a few flower bc ders. The cellar windows opened i this inclosure, which was set al>out 1 iron railings. Maisie drew close to the railings and leaned upon them. Her ey were fixed on one of the cellar window from which a lean black cat was cree ing slowly, looking suspiciously about : "Ah," said Maisie in a low tone. "A so it is as I thought. What fools peop are to say she is dead! A black cat? Ye of course she is changed into a bla< cat" The animal, a half starved creatur deserted by some former owner, utter? a low cry, and springing to the stoi curb in which the railings were se came creeping toward the spot whe; Maisie stood. "Pussy," Maisie called softly. "Her pussy, pussy, come to me." The cat advanced slowly. With quick motion Maisie tarnst her har through the rails and clutched the loot skin at the back of its neck and held fast. All animals were fond of Maisi< and after a little patting and coaxing : was quite quiet, and she helped squeeze its attenuated sides through th narrow space, and now she gathered up in her arms and held it fast, an walked along the street until she cam to a little shop where milk was sole This she entered. "Will you let me have a pint of mil for my cat," she said, "and a nice sance to feed it fwom? She is most part?cula about her china." The woman of the shop laughed as sh measured the milk and filled a big chin saucer. The cat, which Maisie still held fcisl lappad the milk eagerly, purring cheei fully the while. "She seems hungry." the woman sai?3 .'Yes," said Maisie, "she has beei locked up in a church for a day and ; night, poor thing. Take a little more Eugenie; you shall have all you want." .Is your cat named Eugenie?" tb woman asked. "Don't j'ou think it a pwetty name? asked Maisie. "To be sure it's a yount lady's name; but she don't look the leas like a young lady, does she? No-o course not" "Certainly not ma'am," said tb woman, staring at her. "Nor a bit like an enchanted prin cess," said Maisie. "The milk is three cents, ma'am.' said the woman, stepping back a little. Maisie gave her the change, gathering the black cat up in her arms. "Her nails shall gwow sharp and he: teeth shall gwo-r lang, and on her foul feet she shall gang," she sang softly. '1 should think it much better to Ix? ; cat than a fiewy dwagon, shouldn't yon?" she asked the shop woman in a confidential tone, but before the lattei recovered from her astonishment she had skipped ont of the store. "That lady is crazy." the woman said, calliug to some one hi the back room. Puss, the meekness of starvation over, was struggling violently. An empty cab passed. Maisie hailed it. "A cat is a bad thing to carry about, miss," the cabman said as lie helped her into the vehicle. Maisie nodded vehe? mently. "Where to?" he .asked. "Where?" reputed Maisie: "oh. to thc Centwal park-it's a lovely wide. You'll enjoy it, Eugenie." This to the cat as they drove off. When they wem alone together Mai? sie, holding the cat fast, addressed it sol? emnly: "I couldn't help it. Eugenie. I never would have done it if you had not stolen my Woy. But \ou shall have evewy thing you want. I will make .voil a bed with sheets and pillows. You shall have a golden collar, and 1 will have youl ears pierced and put earwings into them. Engenie, be good; don't scwatch SO. But the cat unmindful of these bland? ishments, shrieked fiercely, struggled more wildly than ever, and digging its daws into Maisie's hands, tore them ter? ribly and escaped into a corner of the cab. There it .sat, spitting and miaoul ingand making an occasional spring at tho nearest window, until the vehicle had entered the park and boen driven as far as the Mall, where the driver alighted and opened the door with a view to re? ceiving further instructions from Maisie. As he did so the cat dashed out of the door, and flying like a mad thing along the winding path was out of sight in a moment "Why, how she's scratched you. miss!" the man said compassionately, looking st Maisie's bleeding hands. "So she has," said Maisie, glancing at tho deep scratches and winding her handkerchief around the hand worst wounded. "She's like a tiger," said the driver, "that baste." j ..Woree," sai<l Mawre. "She wanted my Woy. That could not be pewniitted. yon know: 1 want my Woy myself." "Is it your bini? Did' she kill it?" asked the cabman. "Indeed my wife would never have a cat about the house since one of them devoured the finest canary on us that ever sang." Maisie laughed. "Eugenie can't sing any more," she said. "I ll get out now, please." . "Just as you say, miss," said the cab? man. He made his charge: Maisie paid it and skipped away along the path, her ribbons fluttering, her flounces flap? ping, the plumes tossing over her bonnet. "Bloomingdale would l>e the right place for you, my lady," the man mut? tered as he looked af ter her. "Bat it is none of my business." And he drove away. The day was cool. The park is never full of visitors in such weather, and the afternoon was drawing to ?a close. In the gray twilight Maisie skipped along. "It is not so easy for her to hide her disposition, now that she is a cat," she said. "How she tore me! Well. I wash my hands of her. Other people think Eugenie is dead. I am the only one who weaily knows that she is twans fonned into a black cat. I would have fed her and been good to her. but she has left me. Vewy well, let her go. Still I am sowwy. She must b? cold and hungwy. I could have made her a little bed with silk pillows." It was chilly. Maisie shivered in the little sacque she wore ?and looked about her. In the twilight the park was like a sketch in water colors, all soft blue grays and whites, with touches of deep indigo here and there. She had reached the terrace, usually the busiest spot of the park. Not a soul was visible in any Erection. She descended the wide steps .? here the carven stone balustnwles with their urns of flowers arose on either side of her, and stood on the lower platform and looked about her. Before her played the fountain, crowned by the substan? tial young person with wings who does duty as an angel. Beyond that lay the lake, its boats at rest, its boatmen gone home. No one sat in the seats under the gay awning. With every moment the shadows grew grayer, the masses of foli? age more indistinct, but Maisie kept on her way down the second flight of steps, across the broad, smooth space between them and the fountain down to tho edge of the lake. On one of the benches fac? ing it she sat down. "I am vewy tired," she said to herself. "1 wonder why I am so tired. I must west I do not want to be worn out and ugly when Woy comes home to maw wy me. Dear Woy. I do not blame him. Oh, no. When a woman like that chooses she can always beguile a man, like the mewmaids. Woy is on the sea, but there are no mewmaids that sing urjon any wocks as bad as Eugenie." Woy! Woy! Oh, my (lawling Woy! You are mine, mine only at last!" Then she sat down on the margin of the lake and fell asleep there, and slept for hours. Thc confusion of her brain was greater when she awoke than it had been. A kind face arose before her-Mrs. Bunny's. She could not remember whose it was. "I know she will be anxious/ she said. "Whois?he? Ican'twemem ber her name. It is warm where she is, and I am cold, very cold. Who is she? It can't be my mother, I never had one. Oh, I am so cold!" She arose to her feet with a vague desire to go home, but she could not remember anything, not even where she was. She began to cry and moan, feeling about in the darkness and running against the bushes. The thorns pierced her flesh. "Her claws shall grow lang," Maisie muttered, groping forward. Something pressed against her feet: she saw a dark object that uttered a low iniaoul. The black cat, set free in the great park, had made it* way to the lake, hungry once more, and discerning the presence of a human being-the sort of creature from whom it was accustomed to expect food-strove to attract notice, then receiving no attention lifted its voice in that agonizing and incisive cry vrith which its kind are wont to express the constant starvation from which they seem to suffer. Poor, bewildered Maisie, wrapped in her delirious fancies, believed that she heard a threat of vengeance, and fled wildly through the darkness-the rul? ing passion strong in madness as in death "It is Eugenie! She will tear m?s to pieces! Help! help! help!" she screamed. Her feet stumbled among the little rocks and bunches of grass and sunk into soft saud: then the ground seemed to give way beneath her feet. Without knowing it she had walked into the water. "Help!" she cried. "Help! help! help!' They heard her afar off. Lanterns gleamed, shouts were uttered, men flew to the spot, but long ere they reached it the waters liad closed over poor Maisie's head for the last time, and they saw only a .black cat. which sat beside the lake shrieking like a banshee. CHAPTER VIL "Oh. Mox SchcttingT' Poor Maisie was dead, and shortly lay at rest within her tomb, done with life's joys and sorrows, tormented no more by love or jealoasy: but Eugenie, though j her friends bad mourned her as one lost to them for hours, h;id lived to endure a woe greater, it s<>enied to her at first, than she could bear. The old physician in attendance ex? amined a morsel of candy they found in her jhx-ket and pronoin^ed it poison. Happily an experience that he had liad j in early youth in the West Indies, when ! a jealous negress poisoned hex rival, gave him unusual knowledge of the drug which had diminished the action of thc heart, so that her pulse was almost im? perceptible, and taught him what to do to save her. Eugenie lay for a long time senseless, motionless, her sweet face terribly dis? torted, but siie had youth and a lim- con? stitution, and she had taken very little , of the poison. Slowly she iri*f*w well, her strength re? turned, her grace, her l>eauty. and she could speak ?s sweetly RS ever, but her singing voice was gone, gone never to return. None knew ii st> well .os she. j and with it vanished all her hopes of fame, of doing great things for those at home. The dream <yf ber life was over, despair seized her soul, for a while she longed to die. For a little while, fcncnving nothing of Maisie^ death, and understanding that the poison had been given herin tbevandy Maisie had placed tetween her lips ia ; church t it was bani for her not to hate her; but even then she sought no revenge, and? swore to herself never to tell where ehe got the little green sugar plum. au<3 she prayed without ceasing. "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who tres j pass against us." "For jealousy is mad j ness, no doubt," she said; "it master* j one as love does," and at last she was J able to forgive Maisie, and to read the letters from home and from Herr Schei j ling calmly, and to think of how the great blank in her life might be filled. She had been to church for the first time, and had been received by her friends as one raised from tile dead, and was going home happier than she hud ever hoped to be when a carriage drew up to the curbstone and stopped nearher, "If yon please, miss." called the coach? man, and Eugenie, to her astonishment, saw Mrs. Bunny in a black veil at tho window beckoning to her. "Oh, my dear!" said this good woman, "To think of meeting you! You aro quite well again? 'Ow "appy your aunt must be. A little thin, but you look lovel}*. I've l>een to plant a few flower* on Maisie's grave." "On Maisie's grave?" repeated Eug?nie? as in a dream. "Maisie! You do not mean that Maisie is de.ad?" "Did you not know it? They've kept it from you because yon were ill," sai-} j Mrs. Bunny, "i've agitated you. Coote i in and sit by me." Eugenie obeyed. ! Mrs. Bunny continued amid her sobs and the great tears that rolled rapidly dovm her checks: "Yes, onr little ~VIaisi<r is gone, and Mr. Bunny is quite brokon arted and I cry all day. She was not ti fine figure, like you, but she was so good, such a good girl was our Maisie. Never a wicked thought or an angry one. So loving and so kind; like a daughter to us. But you know you loved Maisie and she? loved you. Yon can sympathize." She took Eugenie's hand and patted it softly. Eugenie, pale and trembling, leaned back upon 1 he cushions. "Maisie's 'art was broken by that wicked man." Mrs. Bunny said. "She went off 'er 'ed and drowned 'erself. We blame ourselves, poor Bunny and me, for finding 'er a sweetheart. -She was so> 'appy before 'e came, so 'appy and light arted." "The poor girl was really insane then," thought Eugenie. "Thank heaven I for? gave her," and she wept softly. They drove to the Bond street house and had a long talk. How strange it was to sit in the large room and think that Maisie would never again trip in at the door in her gay gowns and floating ribbons. She stepped out on the balcony and looked down the street, and remem? bered the light hearted me -riment of that bygone Fourth of July, md the jealous Maisie who had given her the poisoned candy vanished as though she had never been, and the Maisie of " ?er childhood re? turned to abide in her i emory forever. When Mr. Bunny came in with crape on his hat he said, "I am glad tosee you, Miss Eugenie. You were our Maisie's best friend, and she loved yen, she loved you.** And then she had tea with them and was sent home in the carriage, and Mr. Bunny as he put her in said: "We meant to do so well by poor Maisie, Mrs. Bunny and I, but you see we blundered." Mrs. Morgan opened the door herself as Eugenie rung the bell, and said as she kissed her: "Somebody is waiting for you. Tm. not going in. Be kind to him. He is the nicest boy, if he is an earl," and she pushed Eugenie, who was inclined to re? sist, through thc parting of the portiere. A figure standing at the window turn? ed. It was Roy Gifford. He rushed for? ward, both hands extended, to greet lier. "Oh, how well you look!" he cried. "I thought you would be pale and thin, but yon are like a rose. You seo I have come back." "Yes, 1 perceive that,** said Engenic, withdrawing her hands, for since she had heard of Maisie's death she had been thinking of him with utter detestation. She took off her bonnet and sat down. "I have been to Mrs. Bunny's," .she said. "I have just heard of Maisie's suicide.*" "Shocking, was it not?" said the young earl, with no more expression in his voice than if he had been a parrot. "But you know I always thought her a little out of her mind, and since Providence in it:; inscrutable wisdom and all that - ? You know. Well, I've no doubt it is all for the best. I've been talking to your aunt. You know how I feel to yon. I ve crossed the ocean for your sake. Your aunt was very kind, and my mother, I assure you. makes no objec? tion, none whatever." "To what?" asked Eugenie, lifting;her eyebrows. "Ah, you know I've come back to ask you to be my wife," said Roy. "Fm worth having now, and you can't pre? tend to consider me Maisie's swwtheart any longer. Can't you like mo just a little?" Eugenie shook her heal. "No." she said, "not even just a little, and really I cannot help regarding you as Maine's sweetheart. You will never Ix* anything else to me while I live but poor, broken hearted Maisie's sweet? heart. Never, never." The young earl stepped backward, bis face scarlet. "In that case perhaps I had better wish you g<xxl evening. Miss Ashton,'* he said. Ile niade his jierfect society bow, opened the door and shut it softly liehind him. A moment more anti that same door flew open, and a liands.>ineT besxded niau, with great eyes like stars, the presence of an ideal emperor, a broad, white forehead and a head of clustering, nut brown curls, dashed in. followed, aot ushered, by the white capped maid. "Eugenie:" he cried, holding ont l>oth his hands. "Eugenie!" and still again, as though the name filled ali the earth to him. "Eugenie!" "HerrSchelling! My dear, dear friend!** cried Eugenie, with her hands in his. "I can hardly believe that y<x* are really here." The little maid c?osed the door softly. -MIC felt herself de trop, or, as she would have said, "wan to?* manny." and when she was gone Herr *' .: diing led Eugenie to a chair and kw- : down l>es?de her and put his ann ah t her waist. "Oh. my little.- 1!" he said. "Is it really true that J s you. that 1 touch you again, that y< id not pass away through the gates ieath? Oh, what a voyage mine has been ! Always fearing what 1 might hear at its close. BoA yo? .ire alive, and lovelier than ever. Thank God! Thank God!** "But 1 have lost my voice forever. Herr Schelling." said Eugenie, with a sigh. "Ah. that heaven given voice, that perfect v, nee!" he cried. " What must it be to lose it! Weep, little one. weep*. CONCLUDED OX SIXTII PAGE