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JJt ; *.\n:;VA- v*:': i: ;\SUCV v .u& V? i iSOUTHI Cyrxxs To\ {fcySl'.i!1lo.> Author of "Woven Wfth t t^V'W.V'V^V.?,.'..v'.v "Tho Quiberoi Copyrioht, !*> , bU CI I She put up her hand, but he would not be stayed. Sho im<i * ??- ? ' ..MX* JVfc \.\J it'Uill I that there is no i>ower on earth that 1 can keep n man who loves a woman from telling that woman he loves her when he feels thut the woman wants to hear him. anil almost every woman wants to hear. v As Peyton leaned against the tree ' upon which she sat, as close to licr as he could possibly get without actually touching her, and as he looked adoringly up Into her soft browu eyes she 1 found it rather pleasant after all. Her eyes were not always soft either. Symetlmes they spqrkled with lightens the brcuklng wave does upon the storm i tossed sea, and sometimes they swam steadily with the depth of a still pool that compasses upon Its surface a picture of the deepest heaven?as they did at that moment. As the young lover marked the slow rise and full of the dninty. undeveloped bosom, as his ! eyes fell upon the scarlet ribbon of her | mocking lips, as he watched the slow flush of warm color in her dark check 1 ?rich hue that the rose might have envied?he longed to throw the restraints of custom to the four winds of heaven i and clasp the girl in his arms. It was not the tlrst nor would it be the Inst time a lover's heart rebelled against such restraints. "It's out now," he murmured. "What's the use of trying to conceal it or evade It? Every look, every word, every movement of mine, must have betrayed me. I didn't say anything to you in j Boston?not In wortls, that Is. You see, I I was afraid, for one thing, and for | another I did not want to take advnn- ; tage of you. I was the only friend j you had?the only man?and I had known you from a child. I was a , southerner, and I?and we," he went on softly, "we love the south. Had I | been born In New England I should . have loved the south, since it Is your land. And you were so young. You might have said 'yes' then." In spite of herself the girl, listening In dreamy abandon to his passionate pleading, nodded her head softly. "Oh!" cried Peyton, conscious of her slightest motion. "Would you have said'yes?'" "I might," she whispered, "the "And now?" he questioned e?L '7. "Oh, now?It Is different now. Don't ask me, Boyd." "** "I must! Is it because there Is some" one else?" "No. there is no one. You see, the llttlo southern bird that was so lonesome up north is out of the cage now and she loves?everybody." She spread her hands abroad with a delicious gesture. "There isn't any one in particular. but all?you. as well as the rest. I like you. oh. very much, and if you are awfully In love with me. as you say you arc. I am very sorry for you I am sorry 1 or them all." "All?" he queried Jealously "What do you mean by that?" "Why, I mean all the r.*on who rre in love with me and that 1 am r.ot in lore with. They all talk just as you do. Boyd." "Don't!" be protested vehemently. "1 cannot Relieve that the ephemeral affection of the men you meet can be likened to my feeling. I tell you." he continued, almost fiercely, "you do not dream how 1 love you. We sailors are lonely folk. Do you know, do you realize, that winter in Boston was the only one I ever spent in the-soeiety of a girl, a woman? Are you a woman, 1 wouder?" "Am I a woman, Indeed!" indignantly nnd with surprise. "Yes, I know; in years, perhaps, but at heart only a child." "A child, sir! Well, perhaps! And If you knew other women maybe you wouldn't care so much for me." "It would not make any difference; I'd care for no one else. You are all. Ah, when I sailed away last spring nnd left vou I took with me sueli a mouiorj' of you as completely possessed lue. I did my duties, of course; 1 bad been so trained. That's n part of life,to do one's duty. I lived on the ship. I mingled .with tbe others. My body was on the African const, but my soul was where yoo? were. I was absentminded, dlstrnlK My shipmates rallied me upon It. It was your fault I was thinking of you, drenming of you. "The breeze of summer wove songs about your name through the rigging," he continued, in that low voice with its passionate cadence. "When the moonlight beat upon tlic low lylug sutids of the tropic shore tbe mist wreathed itself Into figures whose airy grace suggested you to me. Not a wave that caressed the keel of the ship that did not ripple with the music of your laughter. I could shut my ey^ and hear it even now." He suited the action to the word And loaned his head against the tree trunk v and was silent for n little space. "I welcoao*-the night watches," he said at last. "They wore never lonely to me. I could pace the deck and think of you, you. only you. with nothing to disturb or district me. Yes, yes, I am a dreamer, as you have said, but I did not create an Ideal?I found it In you. w Beloved, you kiunv not what this has ^ meant to mc. You do not know wlmt It means now. I said you were a child, and you are. But some day you will be a woman, and then you wlU under **94* Pechagg U 1% jut ftltpssUux Era ' ' ' ' ' * l**V; ! . . ; h e ERNERSl 'junsend 'Brady Ihe Ship," "IIohei\ioU?m," ? Touch," Etc. n -. A >/ . ? !<X'-vV.s." *V rru? Toxcrucnd Eradu :&:? *{ % you now tnat I love, that I worship, but what I see In you, what you shall be." She listened, drlnkinc In every word. "I have made you the object of my ambition, the end and alui of uiy life. Every hope that 1 cherish centers in you. Every desire that I entertain lias you for Its realization. I lo^g to do something for you, to have some task set inc some great achievement placed before me, that 1 may show you what love means. I ask nothing now. 1 am content to stand hero below you and look up at you, to kiss the hem of your garment." Again lie sr.ited the action to the word, with a reverence which touched her soul. "To bo near you is enough now, but some day I must have more. I must have all. Until that time comes and you come to me with it I shall waitno. not patiently, not willingly, but because I must Do you understandV" "1 understand," she murmured in answer. "Speak on. There is music to my heart In what you say. 1 am a child. I do not know yet what love means as you know it. as you have told It. But perhaps I shall learn. You may tench me, and with such a master may I be an apt pupil. Here is my hand on It." He seized the slender, graceful brown hand she extended, arid with old* fashioned grace?alas, that the custom has gone! ? pressed a long kiss upon it while she continued: "There is no one else yet. and 11 hope"?her voice sank to a whisper; she turned her head away; a rift of sunlight drifted through the trembling folinge and fell upon her lialr and bur nlshcd It with color?"I hope," she murmured, withdrawing her hand and laying It upon his head, "that some day It may be as you wJsli." "Thank God! Thank God," he exclaimed, "for that blessed assurance, and may he bring all '.ny dreams to pass!" And above them a mocking bird burst Into song. CHAPTER V. WHAT HAPPENED ON TIIE SHELL, ROAD. f"wjr>IGn noon and high tide on the HI| Shell road. The gray road IttHTJPPjd following the curves of the IttUuV shore *fcas uatenaiitfcJ tit the moment save by three persons on horseback. Although he was a sailor, Boyd Peyton rode with the ease of a southern cavalier long accustomed to the saddle. His companion was a good match for him. She wore a close flttlng riding habit of navy blue, a little, stiff hat to match it, with n gray veil drooping behind it, and gray gauntlets. She had exchanged her ankle ties for dainty little boots, and as he bad mounted her upon her horse Jie had not failed to notice her small high arched Instep, the hall mark of the high bred southern woman, which she had to perfection. The force of the breeze, accentuated by their quick motion, had added n deeper color to the richness of her brown cheeks. The wind blew her hair hither and thither as they galloped along. She laughed aloud sometimes in very heedless Joy In life. She was so young and happy. .Terry, the negro groom In the Annan livery, who rode some distance behind them, if he thought of them at all. would have called tlieni n handsome pair. Peyton had spent the entire morning nt the Annans', renewing his acquaintance with the Judge. After luncheon he had begged Mary to ride with him on the Shell road, then, as now, the driving and riding resort of fashionable Mobile. It was yet so early in the afternoon, however, that they had the road to themselves. Peyton was ns full of satisfaction as anything short of her complete acceptance of him could have made hiiu. He loved her, he had told her so iu spite of Ills promise, and she had listened at last In spite of her refusal, and had half responded. He was determined to win her, and she had given him hope. It was enough to make any man happy. The added exhilaration of the gallop completed his Joy. All too soon they drew rein nt Frederic's house, nt the end of the made road. Far to the front of them the unpaved road, abruptly degenerating into a mere bridle path, wound through the 11-.M it? -ii-? iruwn IIIIU iwi IIBCI1 JII I 111! UlNlllllCU among the trees. "Let us alight from the horses and go out on the wharf yonder." said Peyton, pointing off to the left, where n long wharf on plies extended far ouf over the water. "I think I should like it," replied tho girl; "I am a little tired ufter our rapid gallop." Leaving the horses to the care of the negro, he helped her down the steps, and they walked slowly out to the end of the wharf. "I know not which Is the more beautiful," said the girl, as they paused at the boat landing. "Look nt the road. Is there another such on the continent? I love those great live oaks, green still although It is winter, and all the vivid ' rich color of those huge broad leaved magnolia trees." "*> < I She stretched out her arms to the Dlcturcoaue share, as if she would cImd . it in loving embrace. | "Yes." answered Peyton, smiling approvingly at her enthusiasm, "and what makes the ouks more beautiful are the long festoons of that Spanish moss hanging from every limb and the mistletoe clustered around the tops. Even the white China berries and the red yupous and those little bayonet palms add to the charm. But beauty Is upon this Bide, too," he added, sweeping his arm seaward, Jealous for his chosen el- i euient. "I never expected to be a sailor." | "No." said the girl, "you should have been a poet." "Yes, perhaps; but since I am a soil- i or 1 am glad. There Is 110 touch of verdant nature on the sea, but It has a freshness and a life of Its own, and the waves?see how they splash! In their light and airy play they remind me of you." "Does evervthliif* romimi ? (, JWU VI UIC, I wonder?" turning to look at lilni. "Everything that is beautiful," he I answered promptly. For the life of her she eoulil not but be pleased with such exquisite loveinnklng, and, smiling. she showed her pleasure. "To me," he continued, "you stand for everything that Is lovely, not only beauty, grace, charm, but the crown of womanhood besides. You are so pure and sweet?In your soul, I mean. In Ills horse toas quivering rdth excitement. my sight you nre purity itself, purer than the snow upon the mountain upon which not even the wing of the eagle has ever cast a shadow, ojid you are is far above me as that same crest." lie was dreaming of her agalu and rending his dreams aloud, and, As before, she listened eagerly. "Speak to me, dearest," he said nt last, as if Just awakened. "I love to hear you speak. "Ah. with laughing water mingle The love song of your choice; 'Twill be but Bhadowcd echo To the music of your voice. It enchants me. I'd rather hear It than"? "That's a perfectly lovely verse. Boyd," she Interrupted. "Who wrote it?" "I did. 'A poor thing, but my own,' " he quoted softly. "You said I was a poet. I've written reams of verses about you, but they do not satisfy me. Nothing I could say would measure up to my standard of devotion to you. I feel humble before you. unworthy of you. yet I aspire beyond merit or dpBert because I love you."?"No. 110; you exalt me too much!" cried the girl. "I am nothing that you say. I am not nt all what you think me. I am nothing but an ordlpnry southern girl who"? "Who. Is the qucdn of my heart forever," ho interrupted, taking "hef""h'anJ." "No; don't draw It away," he'continued. "Lot ino have this hour for my own. Something tolls me that I shall not have many." It was useless, wrong, foolish, yet she lot him retain it for a little space, soon to be broken. "What's that?" she said slowly at last, drawing away her hand as her eyes turned from him and for a brief Space searched the shore, "Where?" disappointment speaking In his voice. "There! Coming along the road toward Frederic's! A horseman! See! lie is waving to us! Now I recognize him. I'd know that gray horse among a thousand. It's Mr. Rob Harrow. He's shouting something. He has a piessage for us evidently. What can It be? Some word from father, perhaps. (Come; let us go and meet him." (lathering her skirts in her hand, she fan along tlie wharf, tripped up the stairs and reached her own horse Just as Dnrrow reined in his gray. lie had ridden as if pursued. Tils horse was quivering with excitement and flecked with foam. As ho was jerked back on his haunches by his rider's powerful hand Harrow sprang to tho ground, tore his l)nt from bis head with his gauntleted hand and cried out his message. Ills eyes were shining; his fair face was crimson with color; his voice trembled with the heavy purport of his tidings. "I went to your house, Miss Mary!" he cried. "They told mc that you hnd come riding here. How nre you, Peyton? CSlad to see you back. You came in the nick of time, old fellow," he continued, clasping the other's outstretched hand. It was the first time the friends had met for years, but Harrow had tlmo for no other greeting, "f knew you would ho crazy to hear the j news. Miss Mnry," ho added, turning , once more to the girl, "so 1 Vddled the gray hero and rode like one possessed to find you and tell you." | "What is the news, Mr. Darrow?" j asked the girl eagerly. ' "South Carolina has gone out of the Union! The ordinance of secession was passed nt Charleston today! This is the beginning of the southern republic!" he cried exultingly. lie waved his'hat in the air and 1 made the live oaks ring with a mighty j cheer, in which the shriller voice of the girl triumphantly joined. CHAPTER VI. I T,IE WOMAN BETWEEN. j j '" EYTON stood looking at tlio | , pair in dazed surprise. The \ Muews, so startling, which his , companions received with j such demonstrations of joy, was ap- j 1 palling to him. He did not know what j , to make of it. Mary Annan had noticed } his silence, hut she made no comment t on it, and, indeed, Harrow gave them j no time for rellectlon, for as he recover- j cd himself a little lie continued his , story excitedly. j , j "The whole town is iu a ferment." ! "Arc they going to do anything?" ! | ; asked the gill. | ( ; "1 think so. Telegrams were coming j i from Montgomery in a perfect stream | i when I left. I suppose there will be a , ' parade or salute or something of that 1 j | sort." | j "Well, let us ride back at once," said \ , j the girl. "I nut so excited I can hardly | j , breathe. I would not miss It for any- | , j thing. Isn't it splendid? Jerry," she I j continued, turning to the groom, "my , horse." , As the negro, who had watched the 1 scene with unmoved gravity, little comprehending Its ultimate meaning to ( him and his race, led forward the , horse, both young men sprang to as- ] sist her to mount. She looked from one outstretched hand to the other and, turning to I'eyton, put her little foot In his palm, lie Hashed a look of gratitude toward her as lie lifted her into the saddle,' but his joy was not allowed free course, for, with an Instinct of kindness which is sometimes mistaken for coquetry, she turned to Harrow, wiiorc lace was Hushed with disappointment. and said, "I came with Mr. Peyton, you know," which simple remark did a great deal to dim the brightness of Peyton's satisfaction and diminish the poignancy of Darrow's regret. Both men sprang to their saddles then and both instinctively made for the right side of the girl, and for a moment it looked as if there might be a collision; but Harrow recovered himself quickly and reined-in bis horse. "The place of honor is yours, Boyd. You are Miss Mary's escort this morning. so go ahead. Besides, you are a stranger too. I surrender the privilege." "That's handsome of you, old fellow," returned his friend, smiling, as ' Darrow wheeled to the left side of Aonaa. ?- ? * "If you have finished your discussion, gentlemen," she said, smiling in spite of herself with pleasure at the Jealous little rivalry, "let us ride on. I cannot wait to be there." She shook the reins over the horse's neck, touched him lightly with the whip she carried, and lie broke into u long, swinging gallop, an example, of course, followed by the other two. They fairly raced along the road at a pace which made connected conversation impossible. They covered t lie distance very rapidly without break or stop until they renclied the outskirts of the town. As they turned into Emmanuel street Mary Annan reined in her panting horse and cantered slowly down the street. "My," she said, with cheerful gladness, "that was a snlendid dash! l no not believe we were more tlian linlf an hour doing the distance. Your gray looks tired, Mr. Darrow." "Yes," said Darrow, patting his horse. "You see, lie has had a double run." "Shall we be In time?" "Oil, I think so," answered Darrow. "LLirk! What's that? It's the band." "Come," said the girl impatiently, urging her horse into n gallop again. ( "Let's hurry on." i "I think we can intercept tliem on | Government street if we keep straight j on," said Dnrrow as he and Peyton fol- ] lowed her example. i "What will it be, do you think?" she ( cried. ( "Oh, a parade or a salute; perhaps |?otli." 1 In a short time they reached the , Junction of Emmanuel and Govern- | ment streets. The broad, splendid road, lined with magnificent old houses embowered in trees, was filled with neo pie. Some squares away to tlie left came the band of music, followed l>y marching bodies of gayly uniformed men. The sunlight sparkling 011 steel bayonets told the trio that they were soldiers. They were accompanied, as usual, by thrones of people, the street was rapidly lilling up, and boys and girls, black and white, capered along In time to the music. "What's that they are playing?" asked Peyton curiously. "It's a new song," answered Mary. " 'Piston to the Mocking Ttlrd' It's called. I will sing it for you the next time you are at the house." "Yes, we have all enjoyed hearing you sing It, Miss Mary," put In Parrow deftly, quite nullify lug the pleasure Peyton had taken in the promise. Harrow was a magniflcent horseman. He seemed a part of his steed. No centaur could have ridden more superbly. 8ix feet high, splendidly proportioned, he uinde a grand picture sitting ills great gray horse. No one could l>e In greater contrast to Peyton than he. Ills eyes were blue, his hah: sunny, his complexion florid, an unusual hut not' impossible type for n j southerner. Physically he was the Incarnation of force aud strength, both ^ V -w . tempered ny southern courtesy and rellnomort. He was the personification jf headlong recklessness and valor. I Kear was absolutely left out of bis [>orsonality. No one bad ever seen blm leneli or iiuail or tremble. tJuy. joyjus. debonair, he was a man to win . the heart of almost any woman and to awaken the admlratiou of men as | well. Yet there was something lacking tbout liim. In the hidden depths of lis nature, in which a man shows what tc Is fundamentally, ho was not quite so admirable. A touch of soul was wauting In blm. The spiritual side of tiis nature bad suffered at the expense jf the material. Ill that nartlrnlnr lu? kvas also of a type antipodal to I*eyon. for Peyton's physical nature had mffcrcd at the expense of the spiritual, rhe one needed sorrow and trouble and love?are they synonyms??to rct'nie Dim; the other required work and.dan ;er and disappointment and love?are hey synonyms, too??to blunt him. as t were, and make him practical and wactieable in this workaday world. A I risis would make or unmake each j man. Singularly enough, the girl who sat i between the two men. glancing from duc to the o her. as she marked them both during the dash on the Shell road, was to furnish the element wliieh should perfect and supply the lack in ] the character of the two who loved tier so. It must not be concluded that ?lther man entirely lacked the quail- , ties with which the other was so ibundnntly dowered; not at all, and [tcrhaps the difference between them iecmed greater when attention was ealled to it than it really was. but the two tendencies existed. There is something of the poet In every lover. In Mary's presence the spiritual was bourgeoning in Darrmv's heart. And there is something else, which, for lack of a better term, may bo described as the material, in every ' I 1 With hi* ri<jht arm across his breast, he laid Ills hat vpon his Ujt shoulder. lover's purpose. Tliere Is something virile nnd active in every great passion?else it is not great?uiul this was moving in Peyton's inind. The girl comprehended the case of her two lovers hut dimly. As she sat between them she inclined now to the right, now to the left, and knew not whither she would tiunlly tend. The two men had been friends from boyhood. The frank, impulsive nature of the larger man, who was also the older, had fitted In witli the quieter, more restrained habit of the younger. They had been to eaeli other as body and soul. They made an ideal combination therefore. One planned, the other executed. Not altogether is the statement true again; but. broadly speaking, it was Peyton's subtle mind ' and Harrow's powerful personality that worked together. Oftentimes Pejtoil's Ideas were utterly unpractical, equally often Harrow's insight was enlirely lacking, yet together they supplemented each other. In a great emergency. if any had ever arisen, the combination would have been ideal and success certain. There neve r had been a elond upon their friendship. Tho only thing that breaks fi hardships like that between man and man is woman. They line] been too young and too much separated in their later life for that factor to have thrust itself unmi their CONTINUKI) ON GTH PAOF. WETTED THE SOUTH EI The Crest Highway of " THROUGH THE SOI Excellent Service Quick Ti Any Trip li a Pleasyrt Travel via THE. SOUT The Finest Dining-Car For detailed information as to Ticks vatlona address the nearest Agent W. A. TURK. R. H. HARD' fMMKg?r Traffic General P???eng WASHINGTON. D. C. WASMINGTOf ?? ?j i' * ^ 441 had a terrible cold and could hardly breathe. I then tried Ayer's Cherry Pectoral and it gave ine immediate relief." W. C. Layton, Sidell, ItL How will your couch be tonight? Worse,probably. Per it's first a cold, then a cough, then bronSchitis or pneumonia, and O t lor? - 1a % 1 aot V.U1I 5 U III piIOIl. | Coughs always tend! downward. Stop this I tendency by taking Ayer's I Cherry Pectoral. fiEiCsi. I Consult your doctor. I f tic says taks It, thon do tis lie s:?\ s. I f lio tells v?u uot to tako it, tlieu don't take it. He knows. | Acme colds often cause const!I pation, bilious attacks, indigestion. | Ayer's Pills will give prompt relief. | .J. C. A YKR CO., Lowell. Mssa. HEAT IN THE OVEN. '*** llnw tlic linkers Determine It l?y tt>? .Mere Toneli of tlie llnixl. "Tinkers have n curious way of tolling just wliat the temperature of the oven is," said a linker who has been In llie business for more than a quarter of a century, "and they can tell, too, with almost marvelous accuracy. You take a man who is an expert In the business, and he can tell what the temperature of the oven Is by simply touching the handle of the oven door. 9 In nine eases out of ten he will not miss it to the fraction of a degree, linkers hive other ways, of course, of testing the heat of the oven. For instniice. when baking bread they sometimes throw a piece of white paper into the oven, and if it turns brown tbo oven is at the proper temperature, or, when baking oilier things, they will throw a little eorntiieal tlour into the oven i:i order to test the bent. Hut tlie baker's lingers are the best gauge, ami when you eoine to think of tlie different tempera lures required in baking different tilings it is no small aehievement to even approximate the heat of tlie oven by touching the bandit; of the oven doer. "linkers ligure that during tlie rising time of a loaf of bread, after It has been placed in the oven, it ought to be in a temperature of ?."> degrees 1'. During the baking process, in order to cook the starch, expand tlie carbonic acid gas, air ami steam and drive off tlie alcohol. the Inside of the loaf must register at least 220 degrees, in linking rolls, buns, scones, tea biscuits, drop cakes, fancy cakes. New York cakes, in nib us, puff cakes and tilings of tliat sort the oven must show a heat of 4r?0 degrees or higher. When tlie oven Is at -100 degrees, it is fit for cream puffs, sugar cakes, queen cakes, roek cakes, jumbles, lady fingers, rough and ready and jelly rolls. At 3">0 degrees wine cakes, cup cakes, ginger nuts and snaps, pies, gingerbread, spice cakes, such as raisin, currant, citron, pound, bride and so on, may be baked. It requires a still lower temperature to bake wedding cakes, kisses, anise drops and tilings in this class. Hut. whatever temperature tlie old baker wants, he can tell when lie lias it by simply touching the handle of tlie oven door." ?New Orleans Times-Democrat. t Not a pound of all the coal burned In Switzerland is dug witbiu the borders ?f that couutry. _ nwr -1 MINUTE One Minute Cough Cure gives relief tfl One minute, because it kills the microbe which tickles the mucous membrane, causing the cough, and at the same time clears the phlegm, draws out the inflammation and heals and soothes the affected parts. One Minute Cough Cure strengthens the lungs, wards off pneumonia and is a harn?less and never failing cure in all curablp cases of Coughs, Colds and Croup. Our little girl was unconscious from strangulation during a sudden and terrible attack of croup. 1 quickly secured a bottle of One Minute Cough Cure and gave her three doses hill an hour apart. The croup was mastered and our little darling speedily recovered. I cannot praise One Minute Cough Cure too much fog what it has done in our family.?A. L. Spafford. Postr master, Chester, Mich, Prepared by E. O. DeWITT & CO., CHICAQQ CROUP \N RAILWAY TRADE and TRAVEL ITHERN STATES. me Convenient Schedules ? Trip to those who HERN RAILWAY. Service in the World. Is. Rates and Sleeping-Car reserof THE SOUTHERN RAILWAY. . 1V1CK. W. H. TAYLOE. r Agent. Atililtnl G?n. fMiangar Aganl. ?. D C. ATLANTA, OA. | J IIITtlftiVJoL -r^