The Plattsmouth daily herald. (Plattsmouth, Nebraska) 1883-19??, January 09, 1892, Image 3

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    1
;"RTRATM
U JillS OFFICE IS ritElAIlED
WO UK, AND DOES IT FOIl liEAoOXAIJLE PlilCES.
5
1K TOU ai:k in nkkd of
I.KTTKK I IK ADS --------
- JIIIX IIICADS, -----
ST ATKMKXTi -
i;nvi:ix)im:s
or in Kiel
STATIONARY LINE'
CALL AT THE
IHIIEIRXjID office,
WK CAN SUIT
Qil c VcV fee
-0-
IF you wish to succeed in your business, adver'tlse it aild Jet
the public know your prices. People like to trade wittr the mer
chant who offers them -the best inducements. It might help your
trade wonderfully. Try it.
, As the most important Campaign for
years is Coming upon
be provided with a good live newspaper that
vill keep them posted
Vtions of the day. THE
Republican paper and
your name on our list.
See our Clubbing list
pers published.
4
o
IJEilLcD PUBLlStISrQ GO.
801 Cor Fifth and Vine St,
PLATTSMOUTH - NEBRASKA
F Q
WILL KEEP CONSTANTLY ON HANI)
. 1 A Full and Complete line of
, Medicines, Paints, and Oils.
,' DRUGGISTS SUNDRIES AND PURE LIQUORS
Prescriptions Carefully Compounded at all ilonrp.
Everything to Furnisli Your House.
AT
- I. PEARLMAN'S
-GREAT
,H0USE FURNISHING EMPORIUM.
v-.-r . 1 1 T TT
Main street where I am now located can sell goods cheap
er than the cheapest having just put in the largest stock
of new goods ever brought to the city. Gasoline stoves
and furniture of all kinds sold on the installment plan.
I. PEARLMAN.
1 c?,m
BROTH ER3. 66 Witwi
IRES ATM
TO DO ONLY FIICST-CLASS
-o-
sam-: i:ii,i.s -
tliiti"- in (ho
YOU, AS VK
Sq ( is f qc( i oq .
us every Farmer should
on all important ques-
HERALD is purely a
would be glad to put
Only $1.50 a year.
with the leading pa
1
G2
MODERN -
i-U
iff 1
POSITIVE CURE. &
S'-. Seir York. Price 60 eta
WAVEllLANl).
A TALE OF QUft COMING LANDLORDS.
BY KAUAII MAIllli liMUilAM.
C(iiri'j!ii 11. ls'tj.
"I told her that no heir of Waverland
would ever think of marrying beneath his
own rank or station in life. And that it
had lung Ihhmi settled that Annie Wrcii
wa to le your wife."
"J low could you, mother?" I gasjcd. "I
have never thought of such a tiling! You
do not know me. mother."
"I did it for her gotjd. I loved her very
dearly and could not bear to think of her
as suffering. I have watched her closely
and I know she valued your society more
than anything else."
"What next, mother?" I asked, as she
paused a moment.
"When I told her of Annie, her cheek
flushed painfully, and her lip quivered.
After a moment's silence she said, 'You
are right, Ijidy Waverland. I will leave
here at once.' She left the room, and
about an hour after she came to me and
thanked me for my kindness, and said she
would never forget the happy hours she
had passed here. Then she took Myrtle in
her arms and wept like a child. 1 urged
her to stay here until she could find an
other place, or else to let ine know where
she was going. Hut she remained firm
and said she would find a home some
where." "While my mother had been speaking,
tears were streaming down her cheeks. I
could not blame her. Hut could 1 let my
darling go thus? I alone knew how dear
she was t u,e. When my mother had fin
ished, I paid:
"You do not know 1110, mother. Stella
or no one will ha my wife."
7 A K-L
7fr?sA fi
Stella or nn one will he my wife.
"O, do not say that, my son!" said my
mother, in a pleading tone.
"I mean what I say, my dear mother,
and I blame myself for not having spoken
before," I said, and left the room. What
had changed the world so ia one sljort
hour? The rooms had lost their sunshine.
The very birds seemed sad and still.
I called for my horse and rode to'the rail
way station, not far away, hoping to hear
some news of Stella. The agent said she
had been there, but he could not tell to
where she had bought her ticket.
I returned and sought Stella's room.
Perhaps I might find something to tell me
where she had gone. I was disappointed.
Still there was seine comfort in seeing the
things that she had arranged and used.
They were a part of her. Motionless, yet
with a voice most eloquent, they spoke of
my lost love. Turning from this little
sanctuary where she had lived, and per
haps, sometimes thought of me, I went to
my own room. How my heart hungered
for one answering look or word to tell me
that I was remembered! Sitting in silence,
memory lived over the past few months.
Her words and acts I treasured up from
out the past, as weary miners gather up
the tiniest particles of dust that glistens
with the precious ore. Again and again I
held her hand, and felt the sweet caressing
touch of her soft fingers, or stood watch
ing her expressive face when under the in
fluence of music or some enchanting
scene. How it would beam with happi
ness! Then my mind would follow out
the vexing thought: why did she leave
Waverland? Where was she now? Per
haps among strangers and without money.
I did not know she had a shilling. I re
membered that she had paid the house
keeper from her own purse. Had she been
repaid? I had no means of knowing. She
kept her own accounts.
In the morning, going to Stella's room, I
found her account book and read this en
try among many others: "Paid house
keeper fifty pounds from my private
purse." Unt looking through the whole
housekeeping list there was no mention of
payment to herself.
"Mother, do you know how much money
Stella had when she left?" I asked, while
we were sitting at the breakfast table.
"Xo, she never said anything about her
self or her money. I remember when she
paid the housekeeper I tola her it was not
wise to pay Ionl Waverland's debts. She
only laughed and said she could soon save
it from the housekeeping tuna. 1 never
mentioned it again, neither did she."
"Will Stella come back again?" asked
Mvrtle.
"I caunot tell, my child," said mother.
After breakfast I rode to the village, fin
ished my business, then turned homeward
or anywhere. Life wad lost its purpose.
As I was passing the little school house I
thought Srella might have stopped there.
I halted at the lo.r and knocked with the
handle of my riding whip. Mrs. Malcoui
came to the door.
"Was Miss Everett here yesterday?" I
asked.
"Yes. sor, she ware here, but she had
been weeping, bless her dear heart."
"Did she tell you she was going away?"
I asked.
"Xo, sor, but she said good-bye to all of
11s."
I roamed aljout with but one aim or ob
ject. To gain some tidings of my lost
friend was mj' one absorbing thought. I
searched very paper, hoping she would
advertise. I rode for miles in every direc
tion, hoping for some news. But all to no
purpoFj.
What a dreary old place Waverland had
become! It had lost all its sunshine and
lay in a deep dark shadow. Even my
mother kept her room, and dinner and
breakfast were lonely times. Xo more
duets. Xo more lively conversations and
discussions. Sir Wren failed to find com
fort iu playing whist. Annie seemed as
lonely as myself and only made short calls,
while Myrtle could not reconcile herself to
live without Stella. "When I came home
she would come hurrying out to meet me,
asking:
"Have yon fonnd Stc-a?" Then, with
measured steps he woui.l return to her
mother.
One evening about a week after Stella's
departure, I came home from a long ride
more sad and lonely than ever. After eat
ing a few mouthsful of supper I went to
my room, thinking I would form some
plan for leaving Waverland. As I sat try
ing to decide what course to pursue. 1
heard Stella's voice as plainly as I ever did
in my life, saying. "If I were you 1 would
not let my inheritance go to waste." I
started from my chair and looked around.
It seemed to me that she was near. But it
was only a tempting dream. There win
no bright face with a welcoming smile.
Only empty space, lint I had been aroused.
I began to think what she would have me
do. I made myself a promise that I would
fulfill her wisli and save my inheritance.
I would strive to be a man worthy of her
love if we ever met again. Then came to
my mind the words we had often sung to
gether: "When Hliiill we meet lurwhi?
hear ln-url, tin- time is lotur; "
Tluit brink's tins ni.-eortl fctraiu.
Like minor in a miiiii;.
"Sumo tiny tli" clouds will lift
Krom l!' my uiitinir li trt;
Ami t liniiitli the n'lilfii rilt
i'un-liKlif-cl beams will dint-
"Fur on that 1ny you'll come;
Voiir huiul wnl touch my own
Jly heart, now smlly dumb,
will is)euk for you alone."
That seemed a sweet promise for the fut
ure, and I was comforted. 1 believed that
Stella was safe and that sometime we
would meet again. What a sense of rest
came to my mind, bringing by the aid of
memory all her quiet ways ami ple.-usant
words back again, until I seemed to feel
her very presence. I was anxious to do
some good deed to be worthy of her pure
love. Can mind take form and visit mind?
Yes. I believe that sympathy of love can
unite as though distance may intervene.
But would she believe what my mother
said, that Annie and I were engaged? (),
mother, how could you tell her that! An
nie ami I had been playmates, but what
was my love for her compared with this
strong, deep pis.sion, that filled my waking
thoughts and visited my dreams? My
Stella was my queen, my lifi'-star, and if I
failed to find her 1 felt that life woui.l be a
failure.
Moving some furniture one l-ty in Stel
la's ro.m a litlle blank envelope fell to the
floor. 1 picked it up and found it was not
sealed. Surely here w;is the message I had
longed for. I hastened to my room to ex
amine the contents. I had not a doubt
that it was for me, until I opened it. I
found a li.ttle square card divided into
thirty-six cqu;l parts. Twenty-seven were
closed and nine were open. Such a card,
at college, the boys called a grating. It was
used to decipher messages when great se
crecy was desired. What was the mes
sage? Should I read? For a little while I
debated with myself, then curiosity pre
vailed, and I tried. It was addressed "To
my darling," and contained the following
w or iLi:
ldonra eov'eid
raaelp eroarn
ifgskt hdavre
mieree swmadt ,
roveak awtiee
yrfaom drefse
There was no meaning to the words in
this shape. But I had learned the use of
the grating years ago, when we had plan
ned midnight raids about the buildings
and grounds of the university. 1 copied
the first row of words into squares corres
ponding to the thirty-six equal parts of the
grating. Then I placed the card with the
nine open squares over my letters, care-
iuuy observing tne little cross on the up
per left hand comer, which marked the
top. Then the letters revealed through
the spaces were: d, n, a, 1, g, n, e, k, r.
There was no more meaning than before
But I replaced my card, moving the cross
to the right hand upper corner; these let
ters were visible: a, p. s, n, e, v, a, r, m.
I turned the grating once more. The
cross now came to the lower right hand
corner and these were the letters that ap
peared through the openings: o r f k r o y
f o. I turned the grating once more. The
cross now came at the lower left corner. I
read: lraettere. Mechanically I ar
ranged the other letters and obtained as a
result the following letters:
vedrawdef
onosttere
vedrawdes
elrahcmai
At the university when we had decipher
ed a message by the use of the grating we
wrote all the letters together and then sep
arated them into words. I wrote the seventy-two
letters m tne order that 1 nau dis
covered them, and had the following: d n
algnekrapsnevarmorfkroyf
olraetterevedrawdefono s t t
ierevedrawdeselrahcmai.
That was all. The enigma seemed as
meaningless ns ever. Discouraged, I leaned
back in my chair and threw my hands be
hind my head. My writing was revealed
to me in the looking-glass that hung above
the table. I caught the letters forming the
word Everett. Quick as thought I solved
the mystery. The message had been writ
ten backward, and the glass had made it
right. I followed out the thought and ob
tained: "I am Charles Edward Everett,
sou of Edward Everett, earl of York from
Raven's Park, England."
The message was plain, but the mystery
remained. Evidently it was from some
relative or friend of the same family name
of my lost darling. It revealed nothing to
me. I placed the card, the message and
my solution in the envelope and put it m
my note book. It was something to keep.
Like a little withered flower, it reminded
me of my lost friend. Where was she now?
If I could only know that she was safe and
with friends.
CHAPTER VIII. WHAT CAUSED THE FAMINE.
Once more I had an object to attain.
There was work for me to do, and I was
ready to begin. The most important work
was to plan greater comfort for my ten
ants' I never dreamed of opposition in
carrying out the methods used by Sir
Wren; of changing my tenants into labo
rers. The first farmer I visited lived in an
old hut surrounded by filth of every des
cription. I knocked at the door, and was
admitted into a room where a man, a wo
man, six children, a cow and four pigs
all lived huddled into a space of not more
than twelve by sixteen feet.
Mike came to the door, looking as though
he feared my presence meant eviction. As
ae came to me 1 orrerea my nana, ana, al
ter a cordial hand-shake. I said:
"Mike, would vou like to give up your
holding and hire out to me?"
"Och, thin, ye're going to be worse thin
the ould masther and turn us out all to
gether," he said, shaking his powerful fist
by way of emphasis; while the woman
came nearer in a threatening manner.
"Xo, Mike," I said, in a friendly way,
you mistake me. I want to make you
more comfortable. On your small holding
you can hardly raise enough to keep your
family from want. But if yon will work
tor me, I will give you good wages for
yourself, your wife, and all the children
t!:at are large enough to work."
'".My father lived here and his father Ihj
f i'v i iia; iiml imw as soon as ye're mas
: !;. r ye une to root us out of t he soil!" ho
: ; !:..l:i!;g his fist in my face, while his
ki jit coming nearer and showing the
.; ' n l" an angry tigress alnait to spring.
'L:!. .Mike," 1 protested. "1 want you
to Lve. n;ore com Tori able. It is hard work
to live in this way," iointiug to the pigs
and cow.
"Yvr want the cow turned out to die, so
v.'e can't pay our lint," said Mike, "thin
.'! turn us from our home. Xo, yer may
leave its to oursilves."
1 trietl to reason with him, but could not
make him believe but that 1 meant to
harm him. Mike was honest, Indus; rious
and sober, but the few acres he held were
not enough to keep Ins family from want
if he never paid any rent. Vet I could not
make him believe it was for his good I
made the offer.
I visil.-d a do.cn farmers, but they were
all of the same opinion as Mike, and pre
ferred to live in tilth and degradation
rather than give up their little holdings.
Instead of helping t hem as I had planned
to do, I nearly caused an insurrection. The
men gathered together and were ready to
light if I persisted in asking them to
change. I soon found the reason for such
lihhy yards and houses was fear of the
rent being raised if the place looked thrif
ty. Very carefully 1 set to work to over
come their mistaken prejudices.
I had commenced the work of improve
ment before Stella had left, as she had ad
vised on that day which seemed to mo
years ago. (), why was I silent that morn
ing! if I had only sjxiken the loving words
within my heart, I might have kept her by
my side. How much 1 missed her now! I
had learned to value her words of counsel.
Her ready tact woui.l influence the tenants
to do her will, a- I often fo.l id. When 1
ofTered any dan for change if she had ever
spoken of it to them they were very will
ing to accept it. (jradually I had to learn
her way of dealing with the people and
was guided accordingly. It was the story
of Topsy and Eva over again, Stella was
Kva io leach mc Iheiv must be sympa
thy to in regard. As 1 followed out that
principle the tenants began to trust me 1.
sii.ited improvements that gave them
work, and the wages gave them a good
many comforts.
Alter a go d deal of thought ami some
expense I had the satisfaction of knowing
that every tenant had a comfortable house
and that the pigs and cows were sheltered
without being members of the family.
It was a beautiful morning in January;
the trees and shrubs were clothed with the
fairy art that Jack Frost loves to deck
the world in, when I rode over to Sir
Wren's to receive instructions for my Ixm
don visit. He was in his favorite place,
the library. He looked up as I entered,
and extended his hand, saying:
"I ttegan to think you liad forgotten
your promise, Loyd. But there is time
enough yet. O, by the way, your new
theory did not work; came near having a
row, I hear."
"Yes, Sir Wren, I thought I had got into
a hornets' nest. Even the women were
ready to fight me. How did you make the
change?"
"It was mostly done before I bought the
estate. The former owner, Iord Sanders,
had used it for a pasture farm, and had
very few tenants. He had a time clearing
it, as there were some two or three hun
dred families on the estate when he bought
it. He had them all evicted, though every
one had paid his rent quite promptly.
Father O'Hale said it was the saddest
sight he ever saw when that whole village
were turned from home without food or
shelter. He said some among them were
sick and the excitement and exposure were
more than they could stand. He waff called
to offer consolation to the dying who lay
by the roadside in the rain and cold.
Every tenant house in the whole village
was burned. Lord Sanders never dared to
live here. His sheep and cattle were driv
en away in spite of his agent's watchful
ness. Finally he was obliged to sell. That
is the way I have laborers instead of
tenants."
"I think a landlord would have a lively
time of it if he should try to evict tenants
at Waverland. Am I in time for the busi
ness you wished done at London?"
"Yes, here are the documents," said Sir
Wren, as he went to his desk and brought
me a packet, "Here is a letter of intro
duction to the Duke of Melvorne. That
p ill prove an open sesame to political cir
cles. "
1 bade him good-bye, received his friend
y Hod-speed, then returned home and fin--''.ed
ray arrangements for a few weeks'
ub ;crtce.
A "living at my destination in liOndon, I
h;..'1i! the lawyer to whom I was to deliv
er -jiy packet, transacted the business in-
n-teit to my care, and went out to find
'e Duke of Melvorne. lie was at his club
r;fm. 1 gave him the letter from Sir
Wren. He read it, then in the most cor-
manner made me feel at ease.
I'he Duke of Melvorne was tall and
-tvikingly handsome, with expressive
jiov.-r. eyes, dark curly hair and a clear
live complexion. He had the stately
-.'.: ing of an English nobleman, lie in
; rouueed me to a young man, a friend of
hl-i. Colonel Haynes, from America, to
Lord Sanders, an owner of American land
'.d to some dozen more. The young
American was a powerful looking man,
with black hair, penetrating black eyes
that could sparkle with wit or melt into
tenderness, a clear, ringing voice and a
grateful manner. Lord Sanders was a
uried-up little man, with a dark, squeezed
up lace, small, restless black eyes and a
long straight nose. He was dressed in
black, with boots as shiny as his eyes. He
had a gold watch-chain with immense
seals, depending from his fob, which he
rattled to emphasize his speech.
"How is Sir "Wren and his fair daugh
ter?" asked the duke.
"They are quite well except the little
rheumatics that kept Sir Wren at home
just now," I answered. "They have had a
nipc of Sir Wren's vtsitinnr them from
London. Are you acquainted with her?" J
"Lady Irving, do you mean?" he asked,
half indifferently, yet slightly anxious.
"That is her name. She is a widow
and a beauty," I said.
"Rich young widows are usually good
company," said Colonel Haynes. "But I
think the English ladies are not as good
looking as our American women."
"I believe you are right there, said the
duke. "And the American giris have more
animation than ours."
"What is the latest news in Ireland?"
asked Colonel Haynes, turning toward me
as he spoke.
"Earl Spencer is ruling with a despotic
sway," I said. "Anyone who has not been
arrested or in prison Ls out of the fashion
there now."
"Then Parnell must be the prince of
Irish fashion." said Colonel Haynes.
"Parnell a prince," sneeringly said the
Duke of Melvorne. "Yes. he is a prince to
gam a hoi'i on penpie'tt jmm kcwi vvnjr,
; even, the Americans were gulled into pay
ing him large sums of money for his 'Irlhh
s.HTerers'."
"Uut P.trnell did not tine the money, it
came to the people, as I can testily. I have
sti-cu ships from America lodel with pro
visions in our harbors, and I hav wen
tiiose same provisions jiortloiicd out to the
starving wopln of Ireland. I have also
:tecn the English government paying an
armed force to evict these same jxople
without a thought of aid," I said, indig
nant that an Englishman, of till men,
should accuse Parnell of tric kery and di
I honesty. 1
I "Ves, T.ord Waverland, you nr. right. I,
! too, have seen ships from the United
' States, in the Irish harbors, loaded with
the same provisions that other ship were
I loaded with, that were leaving Ireland for
' England. It was not lack of food that
made famine," said Colonel Haynes.
"That is true, sir," I said. "Thereto
enough of everything raisej in Ireland for
her people to have plenty. At the very
time when American food and money
were lK'ing distributed to the suffering
people they were sending from Ireland to
England thirty large steamers every week,
laden to the gunwtdes with fat cat flu,
sheep, pigs and the most expensive kindu
of food."
"Then what made the famine?" asked
the Duke of Melvorne.
"The feudal system of laud tenure under
which Ireland is groaning Ls what caused
it," I answered.
"Why, are you a landlord and yet advo
cate the tenants' lights so zealously ?"
asked Iortl Sautters a little annoyed.
"Yes, Ijord Sanders, 1 am a landlord, yet
I would willingly yield my interest in tho
land as the Persians did fheirs."
"Why, how was that?" asked Colonel
Haynes.
"The la"d -owners were t-nmpensated for
their lands by the government issuiiii
bonds bearing four per cciil. interest lo
them, while t.'ie tenants paid the govern
ment five per cent on the bonds," 1 ex
plained. "Ves that founds very well," said tho
Puke of Melvorne. "Hut the Lili people
never will be satisfied tint i 1 tliey have
driven every landlord out of Ireland and
possess the land ft ee of cost. Then in live
years they will be ready for anol hi r gift of
like value. The Irish are a thrill less, vag
abond people, who never know tlio value
of anything."
"Then they change might ily by coming
to America," said Colonel Haynes. "To
be sure, some of them are, as you say, vag
altonds and drunkards; but the most of
them are solx-r, industrious people; anil
not only provide for themselves anil their
families, but send a large part of their
earnings back to Ireland e very year."
"I have tenants on my estate who could
never pay the rent but for the aid that
comes from boys and girls in America," I
Said. "And they are sober, hard-working
men, anxious to keep their holdings."
"I thi'.ik, Iord Waverland, that you
have been taking lessons of Sir Wren,"
said the Duke of Melvorne, walking back
and forth through the room, "I remember
he used to be very bitter against absent
landlords."
"He thinks they are a curse to Ireland
yet," I said, "by draining the country of
million pounds a year. He claims that no
nation on earth could avoid famine under
such a system."
"That remains to be seen," said Lord
Sanders. "I know there are more tenant
farmers in America, than in Ireland, Scot
land and England combined. A large per
cent of the land owners are Englishmen,
too. Why, I derive nearly two hundred
thousand dollars a year from tenant fann
ers in America, and I am, not the only one
who is reaping a rich reward from Ameri
can Ialwr. But there Ls no sign of a famine
there, as yet."
"Xo," said the Puke of Melvorne, "on
the contrary, America is one of the most
prosperous nations on the glole."
"We are a prosperous nation," said Co
lonel Haynes with animation, "but this
heavy drain on our jeople may cause suf
fering before we are expecting it."
"O, bah, on your suffering! I expect to
hear the American people begin to com
plain as a compliment to this infernal
Irish agitation," said Lord Sanders, with
more arrogance than usual. "I am not
afraid of any complaints, as long as the
laws are made to suit ourselves."
"But -the laws are matte by the people
and for the people," protested Colonel
Haynes.
"Ha. ha, you haven't cut your eye teeth
yet," laughed Lord Sanders. "Why, every
clause enacted by the Illinois Legislature
has been in favor of the landlords. Vou
cannot find a tenant in Ireland that is
bound under such strict laws as my ten
ants in Illinois are."
"Then God pity them." I said.
"It seems to me," said Colonel Havocs,
"that alKiit the tim? Ireland is free from
English landlords America will be pretty
well burdened with them. The thought is
repulsive. We love to call our land, "The
land of the free and the home of flit;
brave." Our forefathers fought and suf
fered a hundred years ago to make it a
nation of iiones. But not one drop of
precious blood was ever given to make it a
trading ground for English capitalists or
to give foreigners the power to oppress our
people!"
"Well, don't get excited," said Ixrnl
Sanders, going to the Colonel and placing
his hand upon his shoulder in the most
familiar manner. "We pay for the lands
we get, and we have a right to buv wlere-
ever we choose. And, then, we have a right
to use our own property as we wish. Xo
government on earth has a right to say
where I shall live or where I shall spend
my money.
"That is true," said the Duke of Mel
vorne, approvingly. "I hold large tracts
of land in the United States now. and I in
tend to own ten times as much within the
nextilve years."
"Hear! hear!"' cried several voices. "So
will we."
The evening passed before we realized
it. Many besides ourselves ha1 been in
terested in the discussions. The Duke of
Melvorne invited Colonel Haynes and my
self to be his guests during our stay in
London.
CHAPTER II. A TERRIFIC SHOCK.
Blue Ridge is beautifully located on the
npper Thames several miles from London.
The building is a handsome mansion,
built at the beginning of the last century,
when English gentlemen reyeled In the
luxury of spacious halls, superb galleries
and magnificent reception rooms. The
Duke of Melvorne keeps quite a court of
lords and ladies about him who amuse
themselves according to their taste or fan
cy, while he remains free to go and come
without restraint. There is always some
plan for amusements being carried on by
Lady Hortense, an aunt of the duke, wht
Is the lady of the house and entertains hLs.
iruest
Continued Tomorrow.)