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About Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 24, 1899)
JUNB. Aa world wear on to afternoon orchard shadow's thick and boon) X am Mar daughter, Princess Jane. Park pansy-flowers and sops-ln-wlne Are withering In this crown of mine; I am naif earth and half divine. Red rosea In my bosom swoon. And what although they die so soon? Rosea were meant to die with June, THE POISONERS. I. The fires which had wrapped the Place de Greve in a crimson mantle, and sent Lavolsln and Lavleoreux to their last account, had been burned out for many doors. Not even the ashes were left to tell the tale of the awful end of those two old hags whose poison vials had sent to sleep so many scores of Inconvenient husbands.unloved wives and pestering mistresses. But If the take was now cool and inert, waiting silently and patiently for new victims to devour. Paris had not yet forgotten the sensational story of those poison sailers. Had not their customers in cluded some of the greatest in the land? Did not their trial bring to light in all its sickly terror the whole bideasuess of this poisoning mania that was ram' pant throughout the length and breadth of fair France? And as though to keep the horror or their names and their history still fresher in the public mind, Mile. Mol lere had caused them to be placed In a play, "La, Dlvineresse," the joint work of Thomas Cornellle and Devise. Already for three nights the theater In the Rue Mazarine had been crowded to excess to see this play. The well- timed Idea of Moliere s widow was raining livree into the treasury with a merry Jingle that made the Comedl nds du Roi belaud her enterprise and Wisdom In unmeasured terms. On the third night of the production the king had come, with the president of the Chambre Ardente In his train that same Chambre Ardente which his ma jesty had endowed with such extraor dinary powers for the detection and punishment of thost guilty of the prac tice of slow poisoning. "I like the play," Louis XIV grace fully avowed to Mile. Moliere in the course of the evening. "And who knows but what it may do something to stay this ghoulish mania which seems to run riot among my people?" "Or It may wipe out the Troupe Roy ale," murmured the councillor of state, who hated the players and envied the favors the king showered upon them. "These poisoners, as I know full well, are revengeful fiends; and they will not like your play, madame." The king looked displeased at the remark. Louis was in mortal fear of himself being a victim of the mania. A the English court it was a favorite Joke that the king of Prance would not eat fish because it was poison. "Perhaps, then, we ourselves are In danger of their revenge for daring to punish them," he cried. "Too frighten jnmArrl monsieur, and do yourself no credit by raising such fears." M. le President went a trifle pale, Ad paler still as Louis promptly turn ed his back upon him. But Mile. Moliere' nature was too light and frivolous to be impressed by the gloomy forebodings of the council lor, and she returned to her dressing room so mightily pleased with the king's kindness that she speedily for got all about them. The next evening she walked from her house to the theater leisurely and alone. The night was dark but fine, and the air braced and frishened her. At the threshold of the theater, as she reached out to open the door leading to the stage, a man suddenly stepped out Of the shadow and thrust a note Into her hand. "Mile. Moliere," he said, and made to hurry away, but the, hilt of his sword caught in her cloak and as some one within flung open the door the light fell for an instant full on his face. A pale, repulsive face, with a deep scar on the left cheek that was how it struck her as he hastily snatched himself free and disappeared into the night. In ber dressing room she opened the letter and read: "If 'La Dlvineresse" be played for two more nights Lavoisin will be revenged. There are those who will see that her name I no longer reviled. The king burnt her at the stake, and now you place her on the stage to withstand the fires of the mob's derision. Beware! This Is no light warning. In two nights 70a must have a new play, Mile. Mo liere, or" The actress blanched a moment and onrul sively grasped the arm of her Chair; then she shrugged her shoul ders and laughed lightly and scorn fully. "Freycinet," she said a little later, after scribbling a note, and Inclosing with) It the threatening missive, "take this at once, rreyctnet, to the Chambre Ardente." As the door closed upon the depart, tag misssnier a tiny sigh of relief es anped her, and she proceeded to make tJst toilet ber part demanded. tTWh that sigh her fears had ran-f-Hl Rm slept aa souadiy and as sssstitr that night as she had ever CcpL BM trusted Implicitly to the Car satd tortuous machinery of the Ardente to, protect her, and f SjM had otepatcneo ine leuer gave : t asnttsr not a moment's further Tym M was that she leaped to ber ' i ttM snUsiitlsn at surprise 1 rt tHcrrtJ ssrrant an- J f frasm ths Cbnnv "It Dupta." "He la without T "Tee, madame." "I will see him at onca, certainly." A moment later a tall, lean man, at tired neatly in the soberest of colors, stepped Into the room. He bowed and waited until the servant had retired. Mile. Moliere spoke first. "You have come from the Chambre, monsieur, about the letter I sent?" "I have, madame." "Am I being played with, think you, or is it a grave matter, M. Dupln?" He smiled somewhat sarcastically. "There la no hoax about it, I can as sure you. It is meant earnestly enough, of that there can be no doubt. But how the revenge will be attempted we know not. It may be that a servant will be bribed to drop some deadly cor dial Into your food, or that a letter steeped in some powerful poison a poison that will permeate the pores of the skin upon the merest touch will be sent you; or, again, it may be that open and violent outrage will be at tempted. Ah, you shudder, madame, but you know not the horrors which are taking place day by day around us. The Chambre knowa This mania is spreading dally. No one is safe from subtle attack. Death Is lingering at our elbows all day long, and in the most silent watches of the night." He grew Impassioned as he spoke, and his eyes ever and anon glistened with excitement. But suddenly he controlled himself, and was cool and Inscrutable and smiling again. You terrify me oh, you terrify me!' tne actress exciaimeo. puiung her hand3 to her eyes as if to shut out the frightful vision his words had con jured up. 'Pardon, madame, but I only wish to show you your danger, and to impress upon you the necessity to be watchful. However, I think you need have little or no fear. The Chambre has Its hands upon your enemies, I believe, at this very moment. She gave a little cry of delight "Of course," he went on, "the safest course to adopt would be to stop the play at once. "Will you do that?" No; I will not do that," she replied slowly. "It Is too great a success. "Could you, then, identify the man who gave you the letter?" Yes oh, yes; I can see his face, his horrible face, now!" Well, then, you must help us In this way. After the play tomgnt go 10 the Place de Greve. You will be met there by one of our agents, who will conduct you to one of our secret houses In the Rue de Salnte-Croix. There we have several men under ar rest, and you must see them. Had the man a scar under the left eye?" Yes, yes a deep scar, I remember that distinctly." . Many men have such scars, but still this may be the right one. You will come, then?" "I will. I shall see you there, mon sieur?" "Yes. And by the way, has any oth er agent of the Chambre called? You see we work secretly and hardly know each other's plans and movements." "No; no one else has been." "Ah! then au revolr, madame. To night, after the play, in the Rue de Sainte-Crolx." And he made obeisance and went out. III. Mile. Moliere was depressed and ner vous that evening, despite ber Inherent Inability to take most things seriously. She thought of the words of M. Dupln, and feared to eat, feared to go out, feared to stay at home, feared almost to look around, and yet kept contin ually glancing rapidly and timidly over her shoulder. The customary hour, however, found her. as usual, on her way tothe theater, thickly veiled and cloaked. She took quite a circuitous route, avoiding ail the quiet streets and mixing as much as she could among the crowd. At the corner of the Rue Mazarine, in her haste, she ran into a drunken man who would have turned upon her and struck her but for the gallant In tervention of a passing gentleman. A crowd collected all in a moment, as crowds will collect, and for one brief Instant she caught sight amid the throng, of a face that chilled her with fear. It was the scarred, reptile face of the deliverer of the threatening let ter. She would have swooned but for the excitement buoying her up. So the Chambre Ardente could not have the light man under arrest, after ail. That was her first thought was he not uncaptured, and walking abroad? What should she do? Perhaps, though, she argued as she sped along, she was mistaken In the face. There were plen ty of scarred visages In Paris, as M. Dupln bad said. She determined In the end, as women will determine without a vast amount of consideration to keep her appointment In the Place de Greve, but meanwhile arrived at the theatre, she hastily scribbled a note and dispatched It to the Chambre. It ran thus: "Have Just seen In the Rue Mazarine the man who gave me the threatening letter at least, I believe It was the man. I will, however, come tonight to the house In the Rue de Salnte-Crolx, as I promised your agent, M. Dupln, this afternoon." rv. The play was over and the audience had dispersed. The streets, softly Il lumined by a newly risen moon, were still and deserted. Mile. Moliere, veiled and hooded again, walked swiftly In the direction of the Place da Oreve. As she entered the square, recently so wUd and lurid with tongues of hungry name husgij far human but now so peaceful and beautiful la the aett- KsMr aspted a figure aa- "CTa. UaOerar be tnarted In a deep, 1 km ram was bs She nodded her head, - 1 Tollow me," he added. They traversed a labyrinth of streets and no further word was spoken until a quarter of an hour afterward, til man rapped gently at a house door il a queer little street ) "This Is the rue de Salnte-Crolx, he murmured. The door was Instantly opened. "En ter," he said, and madame went In, with her atendant at her heels. The passage was pitch dark. Shi stood still, affrighted. "Where am I?" she cried. "This way this way. 'Tls all right," said a voice. "Oh, Is that you, M. Dupln?" "Yes, 'tis I, madame." "Thank heaven! I began to fear I had been entrapped." A hand took hers In the darkness. and conducted her several yards. Then a door was openedw, and they entered a dimly lighte room. half laboratory, half library. Pray be seated, madame," said Du pln genlaly. "I think I've settled this affair. The Chambre Ardente knows, , what it is about Ha, ha, ha! I should think so! Have some wine, first ma . dame, before you look on the scarred, ' ugly faces of the rogues I have man acled here. Besides, you must be ex. hausted after your walk, and possibly frightened, eh?" He laughed pleasantly as he poured her out some wine. It struck her wha! a courtly, affable man he was. "Drink," he said. She emptied the goblet at a daught for, In truth, her nerves were all In a quiver, and replacing It on the table looked round at her host and laughed back at him with a well-assured confi dence and gayety. But as her glance fell upon him her laughter ceased. She gazed at him first In wonderment then aghast M. Dupln was glaring at her fiercely. "What is it? What Is It?" she cried, shaking like a leaf. "What mean you?" It seemed another being, this vindlo tlve figure scowling down at her. Hats and glee played hide and seek In hli eyes. He was transformed into a ver itable ogre. And suddenly, as she stared at him, petrified, he threw up his arms and burst Into an unrestrained, demoniacal laugh. "You've drunk my wine. Mile. Mo-1 Here," he cried out In a moment In measured tones, his teeth clenched, but his voice cafm. "Let me tell you it was poisoned." The actress Jumped to her feet In un rehearsed panic. "Mon Dieul Mon Dleu!" she scream ed. "Monsieur, what can you mean? What have you done?" - "You will know all soon enough H he replied, with tantalizing precision. "The poison takes five hours to kill. There is time to repeat the story many, many times." He paused a second, and then a sudden excitement took hold of him. "I am Levolsln's son," he cried. "not M. Dupln, not an agent of the Chambre Ardente Lavoison's son, the son of the woman you have put in your j cursed play. I loved my mother, ma dame. I saw her burn, frizzle before my eyes, and I laughed ay, laughed laughed with madness and rage to hear her old bones crackle, to see her old flesh bake. And since then three who sat In high places have somehow died died quite naturally, though sud denly. Ha, ha, ha! died through me. through my medicine, do you under stand? And now you will follow them. In five hours you will fall asleep never to waken.and no one can tell you have been poisoned. In five hours! And no one could help you even If you were not safe and sound here; for I only know the antidote which can destroy the poison's work." He pulled a vial out of his pocket.and held It up In his hand, laughing again with a frenzied delight And, as he laughed, a hand came through the slightly open door, and, of a sudden, snatched the vial from hlf fingers. Then, like a flash. In the twinkling of an eye, three men dashed into the room. There was a fierce struggle for .a mo ment or two. Strong men panted as though In the throes of death. But It was soon over. Pounced on unawares, the poisoner was t(.;,dlly secured and gagged and carried forth. Then the leader of the newcomer stepped up to Mile. Moliere where she lay on the floor prostrate and uncon scious. He chafed her hands and threw wa ter on her forehead. 'What Is It oh, what Is it?" she murmured In a while. "Where am I?" "Drink this at once," he rejoined. It Is an antidote." -She put the bottle to her lips and gulped Its oontents down. "You have had a narrow escape, ma dame," her rescuer went on, support. Ing her In his arms. Lucky It Is you wrote to the Chambre Ardente tonight and mentioned the Rue de Salnte- Crolx. We were already on the track of the writer of the threatening letter, and we knew It was a trap when you mentlnoned our agent. Our agent for sooth! But we let you keep the ap pointment you bad made with blm In order to effect a capture. We watched you come Into the house, and then we quietly went to work. We have tak en Ave of them five, madame all In the act of concocting vile poisons; and the Lavoisin la the worst devil of them all. But let me now conduct you borne. Tonight you have done the King soma service." Cornhlll Magaslne. "If. she baa bad such bad luck wlU bar husbands I don't sua why she waati another one." "Her last husband's win, 1 think, contained a provision (hat sb4 SHORT STORIES. LETTER OP REFUSAL. "Well, who is it?" he asked, as the girl seated herself on a hassock and fixed her her eyes on him appeallngly. "It's its Hinsdale!" she replied, dolefully. "Hinsdale! Why I thought we dis posed of Hinsdale three weeks ago, and since then let me see there was Smith and Devereux and how many others?" "Oh, never mind the others," she cried, petulantly. It's Hinsdale now. We did dispose of him or at least thought we had and I'm sure that let ter I wrote " "Ah, did you write to him, too?" he asked, puffing a big cloud of smoke over his sunset and watching the effect of Its vivid hues shining through the clouds of grayish vapor with an ar tist's delighted appreciation of color. "Oh, well, the letter you wrote, then," she said. "Though I'm sure you didn't do it all; you only helped me.' "Oh, yes," he answered, indolently. But Hinsdale he"s broken out again?' "Yes; worse than eer!" and she sigh ed dlsmaly; "and I want you to help me write him another letter one that j wl" understand there's no hope-no possibility 1 mean 01 my ever ueinK anything more to him". Here she floundered and broke quite down. "It's a delicate Job," he went on, re flectively. "Are you quite sure you mean to refuse him this time?" "Of course I am," she burst out in dldnantly. "You don't suppose I could care for a boy like him, do you?" John made no reply to this, but after a moment's deep thought commenced to write rapidly. Five minutes passed, during which John's pen scratched industriously over the paper and Jean sat bolt upright on her hassock, staring at the picture on the canvas. John threw down his pen, and she reached out her hand for the letter. But he did not give it to her as she expected. "It is a difficult thing to do," he said, "to make a man understand that no matter how much he cares for you, you can never care for him." "Ye, I suppose It is," she assented. "But you have done it, I am sure." "Indeed. I may sav there's only one way to convince a fellow of such an unpleasant fact" he went on. "But you employed It?" She asked eagerly. "Yes. You may think It an extreme measure, though. I'll read It to you." And be read aloud "Dear Mr. Hinsdale I thought I had made It quite plain to you when sev eral weeks ago you asked me to be your wife, that such a thing was quite impossible. I certainly tried to have you understand It. and I deeply re gret that I did nut succeed, because this renewal of your offer can only re sult In added pain to both of us. Be lieve me, I am deeply grateful for your nreference. but you win realize, I am sure how 'hopeless it Is for you 'to ask for more than my esteem when I tell you that I am engaged to be married to Mr. jonn ieeie. nojiins wmi j will believe in the sincerity of my friendship, 1 am very sincerely yours, "JBAN CHESTER." The silence in the room could have been cut with a knife when John con cluded his reading and laid the epistle back on the table. Jean stood rigid, gazing with affixed and haughty stare at some point on the wall above John's head. "Well, what do you think of It?" he asked coolly. "I think," she flashed out "that you're the moet conceited beast I ever saw." With great dignity Jean turned to leave the room, but somehow he was at the door before her, with his arms outstretched. "You're not going to leave me, little Jean!" he crltd. "I can never get nlr.ni? without you any more, for, oh, I love you lve you love you!" j A second Bhe stood hesitating then, with a little sigh, she went to him and' burst out crying comfortably on his ' shoulder. Chicago Timcs-Ht-rald. A LOVER'S RUSE. "Good morning, Harry. You looking as if this free mountain are j air' I Cldn't agree with you." "I wish it didn't; I wish It would dry me up and blow me away, or an erup- j tion of the earth would send some huge rock down upon me, and end it! all I" j "Oh, nonsense, Harry! You are a lit- t tie dyspeptic. Come, have a cigar, and face your troubles like a man. I know what the matter is; Ive seen It nil along, my boy. Let ber go, I say, with her villainous looking foreigner. "You don't know her, and that I why you talk so." "Well, perhaps I don't; however, I've a plan to propose that will show you which way her heart turns, and If she cares anything for you she will turn her back square to the baron and his money bags. Here, take a cigar and light It while I make sure there Is no danger of our conversation being over heard." "The view Is very fine there. See how the soft rays of the moon glimmer over the lake and the shadow of the overhanging trees; oh, bow beautiful!" and Miss Lacy paused and gased In silence at the scene before her. The baron bent his dark eyes upon his fair companion and In low, soft accents he said: - "And you listen to de voice of the na ture, and you be still and happy; but when I look at you I cannot hear de vote of anything but mine heart cry. Ing forever dat It loves you. Is dare Bo answer In your heart f Imogene made no answer. There was a lonely bit of woodland through which they must pass to gain the main walk, and scarcely had they entered this when a dark figure sprang before them. "Your money or your life!" was the denmand in rough accents, and with a shriek Imogene turned to her compan ion for protection, but he was quite busy in handing over his ready money and paid no heed to her terror. Imogene, glancing up the next In stant, saw the pistol glimmering In the moonlight knew that the baron drop ped her hand and fled away, and then a new figure appeared upon the scene and a voice exclaimed: "WTiat are you doing, you villain?" and she knew It was Harry Hammond who grappled with the highwayman, and, forgetting everything else, she sprang to her feet and rushed forward, crying: "Harry! Harry! He will kill you!" and aa a long knife shone In the faint light and seemed to descend upon her discarded lover she fainted. When she recovered consciousness she found herself reclining upon a grassy mound, with Harry beside her, bathing her temples with cool water from the lake by which she had stood so recently. Looking up to thank blm she noticed that bis head was bound with a hand kerchief. The next morning a messenger from Mr. Lacy came to request the presence of Mr. Hammond to lunch, and Mr. Mason sent him back word that if Mr. Hammond kept quiet he would prob ably escape brain fever. No doubt the comforting Information that the baron had been made the re cipient of a package containing his money, which he had so obligingly allowed himself to be robbed of by the highwaymen, and a grateful letter and a visit from Mr. Lacy assisted the sick man In his recovery. Three days afterward Mr. Mason thought him sufficiently recovered to ride out, and a little perfumed note that reached him on his return home completed the cure and enabled it to be answered in person at the dinner table of the Lacys. Imogene was tender and kind, and before the evening was over had an opportunity to confess her repentance, and Harry went home that night the happiest man in the town. When the autumn months had sent the country visitors back to their city homes Mr. Mason received the wed ding cards of Mr. and Mrs. Ham mond. A DASH FOR A WIFE. "Talk about anything you like, but for goodness' sake don't tell me you loe me," she said, holding up ber fan to slide a yawn. 'But I can't help loving you," said the young man, sadly. "Then don't show it" The young man was silent From the adjoining ballroom came strains of the latest thing in waltzes. 'I didn't ask you to sit like a mum my," she remarked at length. "If you have nothing to talk about you had better take me back to the ballroom. "I want to know." he said, "if there Is really nothing I can do that will make you alter your feelings toward me." "I am afraid not," she said, a smile curving her red Hps. "You see, you are well, you nothing could make you any different, nothing. You are, I admit good looking, well dressed, suffi ciently wealthy to be able to keep me In the state to w hich I am accustomed, but then so are plenty of other men, all Just as much In love with me as you say you are. Why should I choose you In preference to the rest?" "But you will marry some day?" "Perhaps it depends. If I do I shall marry a man not In the least like any c-f you. Any man can be well dressed, and good looking and sufficiently rich. Those three things are essential, but they are not all. The man I marry must be all that and something more. I want a man who Is a man; not a mere tailor's dummy, or even a reason ing machine. He must have done some thing to testify to his manhood; show me something of the strength that Is in him." A wef-k later people turning out of the park one sweltering afternoon were horrified to see a handsome cab, the horse of which bad evidently bolted, dash furiously past the corner and on up Piccadilly. Following It with their eyes up the bill they saw It, after es caping by some extraordinary chance innumerable collisions, at length come to a sudden and violent stop, while down the wind came round after round of hearty cheering. What actually happened, according to the eldence of bystanders, was this: The cab, which contained a young lady of great personal attractions, was heading straight for the big lamppost In the middle of the road, collision with which would hae meant little short of annihilation, when a gentleman. Im maculately dressed from top to toe, sprang from the path and threw him self bodily onto the horse's bridle. For some yards he waa dragged vio lently along, half en the ground, half In the air, but still retaining his grip on the reins, despite a nasty bite In the arm from the Infuriated animal. A moment more and In the very nick of time success crowned his efforts. The horse was brought up panting within a foot or two of the lamppost, while cheer after cheer broke out from the gaping crowd. "Tou have found your opportunity," so ran the letter the young man re ceived neit day, "and you certainly made excellent use of It. I shall be at home all tomorrow afternoon If you care to call." As he laid the message down the young man smiled. A child could have read between the lines of that letter, and this young man. In knowledge at all events, was no child. XK THD MUSIC ROOM. "Pauline, I've been looking for au BigM. 1 reeogniseu the tall women are bewilderlnglr alike tonight" "Are you sure you know me now?" , "Perfectly sure, my cox. Your eyes are black behind your mask. Youl voice I would not know that either, but there's a certain ring about you a carriage of the head Pauline,' he drew nearer, "does she wear my roses?" "Yes." "Has she danced much with Grey tonight?" "Yes." "Does she care for him?" quickly. "She hasn't discussed the question with me." This with fine scorn. "Tou aren't a bit like yourself. Not a bit sympathetic, Pauline," he drew her to a couch. "I'e got to confide In somebody. You remember the night I met her. Just a week ago? Did she ever tell you she had met me, or some one like me?" "Never." "She never speaks of me?" In a dis appointed tone. "Do you care to hear about it Pauline? You sit there like a mummy, or answer In monosylla bles." "Yes," came from behind the mask. There was a suspicion of laughter In the soft voice. "Well," be began, "a few years ago I was spending a few days in a hotel on the continent no matter where. It was rather a lonely place, and the day waa dull. I wandered down a corridor and Into a concert room. A grand piano stood open, and sheets of music wer scattered about. I picked up a gay little waltz and played it through. When I finished a girl who had evi dently been standing In the doorway approached me. She was tall, witn a manner Imperious enough for a prin cess, and she looked every Inch of one In her costly furs and velvet hat Have I kept you waiting? she asked, quickly. "I'm sorry. What shall I slngr "Her manner took so much for grant, ed I knew Instantly I was mistaken for some one else, but I was not tempt, ed to quarrel with fate. "It was such a piquant adventure. The girl was beautiful. Explanations were bores and awkward. So, in spite of a strong desire to laugh, I sat down to the piano anu uuumed a profession al air, picked up the music which lay before me. It was the grand serenade Schubert's. I have never heard It more beautifully sung. "Her volt was roarvelously sym pathetic I had, as you know, passed unscathed through a good many sea sons, but I went down before those conquering eyes. Pauline, you'll never believe It, but I swear I left that room and went straight to the singing mas ter she believed him to be and paid him six times over to let me Impersonate him for a month. She had told me she would remain that long, and would like to keep up the lessons. "My dream ended abruptly. One morning I came, as usual, to find her or.no There was a little courteous. If chilly, note, sayilng that she had been called to America by the illness of a near relative. Inclosed was the money for the lessons. I had absolutely no trace of her. I did not even know the town she lived In. I went down the street There seemed suddenly noth ing left to do nowhere to go. "A handsome, dark-eyed boy I had often set-n passed me. I tossed him the money and laughed at his delight. So it ended. A week ago I met her here your guest She gave no sign of recognition. I haven't had a ghost of a chance she Is always surrounded. But tomorrow I will see her. Do you think she can care for me, Paulino?" "Yea." "You do?" eagerly. "Why? Why, Pauline?" still more eagerly. Because Because " He read the answer In the lender, smiling face, from which she slipped the mask. An hour later she told him that a letter, bearing his address and datev from an American low 11, hum uim L lanen irom ni jn--ncv 111 uuu music room across the sea. Picking K up she found the familiar hand of a friend. Further convinced by th postmark she had written her friend of the adventure, and received a photo graph she Immediately recognised. But not until her wedding Journey soms six months later, did Crs. How. ard confide to her husband In strictest confidence that all her plans were changed and she came south unexpect edly because of a telegram that ran: "My cousin, James Howard, Is spend ing a few weeks with us." HER REVENGE IS SWEET. Revenge Is sweet, and a complete triumph over the foe la a most satisfac tory feeling. 80 there must be one young lady In London who Is perfectly happy. She happened. In going from Kensington eastward, to step Into on of those private 'buses which are par tlcularly rife at holiday times. On ten. derlng her customary twopence, sh waa Informed that there were no fare! under sixpence, and, as did two othel victims, who were her only fellow pas sengers, she paid. The day waa dirty, the rain falling and walking moat un. pleasant, so the vehicle was stopping many tlmss to allow of would-be pas sengers to enter, but to each and af the young lady, who was cosily en sconced at an end seat, said In dulcet tones: "Excuse me, but are you awart that this Is a private bus?" Kvnrt one of the people thanked her an! stepped down. At Hyde Park then were Quite a crowd waiting to net t lift Aa they boarded the 'bus, how ever, they were met with the silvan notes warning them of thrtr dangel and the nature of the vehicle In whirl they proposed to travel. The resuf waa that the 'bus remained mix save for Its original passengers, unU Chancery Una was reached, where tbt young lady alighted, and aa she km ded tba conductor "Good morning' sir
