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About Lincoln County leader. (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 30, 1903)
DANDIES ADOPTING WOMEN'S WEAR. 'i CHAPTER VII. 1 he cricket match had taken place. lom'8 eleven, thanks to Dallas, had won a glorious victory. The guests were gone from the Hall. It was a lovely afternoon, with a soft west wind. Never had June looked to such advan tage as she did that evening at dinner. There was a lovely color in her cheeks, a new light in her eyes; her voice had a Joyous ring; she seemed to be an Incarna tion of pleasure and happiness. "Would not you young people like to go Into the garden?" said Mrs. Ellesmere the moment dinner was over, and they obeyed her suggestion with alacrity. "Let us get into the boat," whispered Dallas; and June gave a radiant assent. Twilight was creeping on, all nature was hushed; they might have been the only two living creatures on earth. And, for the time being, they would have been con tent to have the world to themselves. To night June knew the difference that the society of another human being can make to all life, to all nature knew how it can fill every moment with a strange, heaven ly rapture, marred only by remembering how fleeting is the joy. ' 1 Neither seemed disposed to talk much; both were possessed by a sense of happi ness. The moon came out and lit up the flowers on the bank, -turning them to many colored jewels. "How I wish this could last forever!" murmured Dallas, at last, bending a lit tle toward June. She smiled and sighed. The smile was for content, the sigh for regret. Suddenly an uneasy scruple came over Dallas. Was he not acting a traitor's part to Tom Tom, who would never have been disloyal to any human being? Ought he not, instead of making love to this fair girl on his own account, to be pleading his cousin's cause? It was extremely repug nant to him, but the better side of his na ture was awake to-night. AaA. any thought of marrying June himself was out of the question. Some day he would be a baronet, with, a fair income; not, how ever, in all probability, before he was, getting gray and well on in years; he had several brothers and sisters, he had debts. A penniless wife for him, therefore, was a luxury not even to be contemplated in the remotest manner. Tom lucky chap! had no factor to consult save his own will and the lady's. "Yon were not serious the other day," Dallas asked June, "when you said that you did not mean to marry Tom?" For a moment all June's sense of hap piness vanished; a cold pang swept over her. She had forgotten that Tom existed. "Do not let us talk of him!" she said, with a little gesture that conveyed dis gust more expressively than she was eware of. "Not much chance," thought Dallas, "for a man to whom a woman feels like that." He was almost ashamed of him self for the satisfaction which her action gave him. "How you snubbed me that first night at dinner!" he said, with a half smile, after a pause. "I never felt so small. You turned your back on me all dinner time, and, though I was watching my opportunity like a cat to speak to you, you never gave it me until, by a lucky ac cident, you dropped your fan under the table. " June smiled pensively. How well she remembers that evening! how she likes to think that he noticed her behavior! "Why were you so unkind?" l wanted not to like you, sne an swers, simply. "I made up my mind that I would not." "But you have changed it now, have you not?" looking into the depths of her eyes. "Yes," Bhe says. Why should she lie to him? Ah! she has Indeed changed, if there ever was a time when she did not like him. But was there ever such a time? "I," he says, tenderly, "have never changed from the first moment that I saw you. I can't tell you how much hurt I was that you would not be friends with me. The only time I ever thought you felt a little bit kind to me was that even ing of the dance. Do you remember ?" ' Does June remember? Ay, most truly does she. She bends her head in answer. "I was dying to ask you again, but I dared not I thought it was best not." " 'Best for you and best for mo, " Quotes June, smiling. "Only for me," he answers. "I was not such a conceited ass as to think It could make any difference to you. And then I imagined that you belonged to Tom.". June makes an impatient movement through the water with her fingers. She cannot bear any allusion to Tom to-night "How divinely you dance!" says Dal las. Then, with a sudden inspiration, "Why should we not jhave a walti to night? My aunt plays dance uusic charmingly." "Oh, yes!" echoes June, her eyes kind ling with pleasure; "let us ask her!" Dallas takes up the sculls, and in two minute they are at the landing clace. lie jumps out, secures the boat, and gives uer ms nana. Slowly and silently, for very joy's sake, they move together un to the hnnm. Mrs. Ellesmere is rousing herself from her slumbers. "Auntie," says Dallas, laying a caress ing arm round her shoulder, "we want you to do something for us." "What is it. dear boy?" she asks, with a fond glance at his good-looking young mce, consent already implied by her tone. "Won't you come into the hall and play us one of your delicious waltzes?. We are dying to have a turn." Of course I will," she answers, smil ing, and feeling extremely gratified at the course events are taking. A glance at June's face assures her that her irresist ible nephew has made" one more conquest one to which he is most heartily welcome. So, with the kindest crace in the world. she goes to the piano and plays unwear iedly while these two reckless young peo ple, heart beating to heart their souls drunk with the intoxication of their love and the rhythm of their movements, are weaving, with gossamer threads of rap ture, the web of future pain. "Let us go for a stroll under the trees," said Dallas. June rose, and together they disappeared from the lynx eyes of some one who was watching them from the drawing room window. They sauntered In the grove where Tom loved to take June as being retired from prying eyes; but h! how different was it to-day! The seclusion which had irked her so with Tom, from which she had longed to escape, seemed an enchantment whose only flaw was that it must have an end. They were reaching for the tenth time the evergreen arch which divided them from the flower garden. Dallas stopped, and June stood still beside him. "How shall I Bee you to-morrow?" he says, his eyes full of tenderness and a touch of regret in his voice. "Tom will be here, and then my short day will be over." 5 v. June meets his gaze for one moment then her eyes droop, and a flickering color comes into her check. , - "My darling!" he murmurs, and his arm takes gentle possession of her slight form, his handsome face bends down to hers, his lips touch hers, not with the eager haste with which they have often times sought red lips before, but with a tenderness and reverence new to him, but most exceeding sweet. And June! Her heart gives one mighty throb; involuntarily her eyes close; for one moment a trance seems to steal her soul. She makes a movement to disengage herself from his arms; he yields to it at once; and then, before they have time to recover themselves, each hears a sound of hurrying feet and then Tom's voice shouting: "Dal! where are you?" The awakening is horrible. Tom here already? Both feel like culprits Dallas perhaps even more than June. Dallas shouts in answer, and Tom's big form looms straightway in the opening. He does not wear that cheery, genial smile which is the ordinary garb of his face; he is evidently ill pleased; his light- blue eyes express anything but satisfac tion. He shakes both by the hand, and they try to look delighted, and feel secret ly awkward and a little bit afraid of this usually good-humored giant ,He is like a big Newfoundland the children's slave and plaything who shows temper for the first time. "I managed to catch the earlier train," he says, standing tapping his boot with his stick. "I thought there was a chance, and told the dog cart to meet me." Then they ply him with questions about his journey and the Show, and he an swers them, but he is not the Tom they are used to. Something is wrong with him. When they all go into the house together and June finds Agnes drinking tea with Mrs. Ellesmere she has a terribly shrewd suspicion who it is that has been making mischief and putting ideas into Tom's head. CHAPTER VIII. "Dal!" "Well, old chap?" Dallas tried to make his tone light and unsuspecting, but was conscious that the effort was somewhat of a failure. "I heard something when I came back to-day that that was not very pleasant hearing." "Oh," thought Dallas, with sudden in splration, "that confounded sanctimoni ous cousin, I lay a thousand!" "I am told," and Tom's voice betrayed evident nervousness, "that Miss Klvers has been up here ever since I left" "She lunched here to-day." "Oh!" remarked Tom, shortly. "Look here, Dal" with immense emphasis "there must be a little plain speaking be tween us. I think you know that I am not a jealous chap. I have never felt the least grudge against you on my mother's account I have never envied you your success with women I never wanted to succeed but with one; but," dashing his hand down on the table till every glass rang, "if you come between me and June Rivers, I will never take your hand again as long as I have breath in my body." Dallas, whose thoughts go with fifty times the rapidity of his cousin's, has time during this oration to reflect and decide. "My dear old chap," he said, looking across into Tom's disturbed and angry face and feeling horribly ashamed of his own duplicity, "what are you driving at?" Tom paused. "I don't like to think," he said, with a straight, stern look at his cousin, "that you have not the same instincts of honor and gentlemanlike feeling that almost ev ery man has. I never doubted you bo fore; but when I hear of you sitting hand iu hand with the girl whom you know I love " v "Who said It?" "No matter," answered Tom, to whom the thought suddenly occurred that he must not allow Agues to suffer for her fidelity to his interests. Dallas felt the time had come to take the bull by the horns. "I thought," he remarked, "that the last time we talked about Miss Rivers you expressed a wish that I should endeavor to conquer her evident dislike to me; and now you want to go down my throat for having tried to make friends with her. I think I can guess who your informant Is, and, perhaps, in the innocence of your heart, you do not see through her last move in the game. It is plain enough that Miss Agnes is in love with you, and would do anything in the world to set you against her cousin." Tom was exceedingly troubled. Were not both Dai's remarks perfectly true? Was he, then, only a blundering fool, ready to be the prey of any one who chose to play on his feelings? He felt rather ashamed of himself. "Perhaps I am wrong," he said, awk wardly. "If so, I beg your pardon. But," after a moment's pause, "I know of course I cannot help seeing how much more there is in you than in me to attract a woman." "Pshaw!" cried Dallas, angrily, thrust ing his chair back and rising, "don't talk such rot! Take my word for it, Tom, there is nothing hinders a man, especially with women, like having a poor opinion of himself. The world always takes you at your own valuation when it's a low one." Tom rose, too, and went toward his cousin. "If I was unjust," he said, in his own frank, manly way, thereby causing a pang of remorse to shoot through Dallas' breast, "I beg your pardon. But I should like you to give- me your hand on It that you will not try to come between me and my little girl." So Dallus gave his hand and swore to himself to be faithful Ui T Ultll this was the seal. Then he went out into xne garuen alone, and, stepping into the boat DUSllCd Off f mm tha clin-n 1 - ...v. v,i ( mm Jajr on his back, looking up into the moonlit ueuven ana tninking with a bitter pang of this time last night It was the first time in his life that he had loved with true, genuine affection, and it was also the firnt tima tint i, v,.i felt absolutely without hope. There was uui.v one xnmg ror it to get out of the way of temntation n - - jvoniuiVi He had given his word to Tom, and, so ukiv mm, uoa, ne meant to keep it. The next mornlnc occupied during her studies; she could inuiK or nothing but Dallas and what pre text he could uinke tn ana n n tri.!.. I When she returned home at midday, Mrs! iwicio buiu; "Tom has been here.'" June turned to the window to conceal her face. Her heart beat wildly. She waited almost in terror for the next worus. Had he riniie tn m. !.,;. ...i protest to her mother? Hnt M tone was perfectly calm and unsuspect- "He had just been tn non hia mud.. n by the truin." A sudden dizziness to reel, a douthlv tn through her heart; she had to hold the cnair ugutiy against which she was lean- Itl IT ' "ft. Dallas gone, and without n n-nrvi ii to her! There had been a quarrel' doubt less between the two men n-hioh hn,t ed In Dallas leaving the Hall. But sure- iy ne migni nave communicated with her by some means. And Tom hnd tnlA hor mother nothing; that was evident. vnen June could command her face nnd voice, she turned awnv from tha window. "Was it not rather Midden. Mr. Rrnka leaving?" she asked. "I think it was. Tom said he had a let ter this morning calling him back to Lon don." "And how wn Tom?" .Tuna nakaA trv. lag to speak Indifferently. "lie seemed in capital spirits." (To be continued.) Death from Corns. All that troubled Mary Murray, of Brooklyn, after 72 year of life, was that her corns hurt her bo much that ehe couldn't get around as brisk ami lively as a girl of her age ought to. She aotermined to take heroic measures. and, borrowing a razor, she sliced off the annoying protuberances. One of her toes bled slightly, and she fl.inlled ammonia to it. Three days later she died. Blood poisoning the doctors said. The Colonel Disapproved, "Won't you Join us?" said the young man: "What are you going to do?" Inquir ed Col. Stlllwell. "To make up a skating party." "No, sub," was the emphatic reply. I will not Join any skating party. If there Is anything upon which I pride myself, It Is my ability, sub, to Indulgs without excess, suli." The fellow who Is alwavs stralnlnir to do great wears himself . smaller ana smaller. European dandies nre adopting women's wear. Corsets are a case la point. There have been little paragraphs in the London papers every now nnd then for the last few months touching upon 4the increasing demand for men's corsets. During a trial in Paris between the partners of a corset firm the defense revealed that one of the branches of their manufacture were men's corsets. The Judge having demanded an explanation It was shown that more than 18,000 corsets were made yearly for Frenchmen and 3,000 were ehlpped to England, principally for army officers. German officers also created quite a demand till a rival Berlin firm offered a cheaper article., , Any Bond street dealer will tell you, without the slightest hesitation, that he employs dozens of workwomen to embroider dainty garments for hia male clients. One shop never sends out a garment without embroidered Ini tials and feather stitching on It and another devotes its energy to decorating the legs of man's socks with silk initials and other needlework. The illustration for this article is by F. G. Long, the American cartoonist, in London. The corset on the chair, the nightie on the wall, the stock, the embroidery and the make-up appliances are all drawn in exact detail. THE FASHIONABLE FI3URE Woman's Form Now to Produce Blab like Effects. It seems that woman's form, which has always lent Itself obligingly, Joy fully, to the wishes of fashion, is again to undergo a change. The fashionable figure of the present season Is quite different from Its Immediate predeces sor. It Is a bit doubtful If the new figure will Inspire sculptors, poets, painters; but of course that is a minor consideration. Fashion and art cannot always be expected to go hand In hand. Some experts don't hesitate to shrug their shoulders skeptically and pro nounce the new figure stiff. Others, who to some extent share their opin ion, hasten to add that stiff or not ev. ery woman who would be thought fashlonablo will be cultivating It In less than three months, basing their prediction, of course, on what woman has always done In the past. Coming, as it does, at the time when woman has only just mastered the problem of bow to bring her waist line far down in front, the change of figure Is all the more Interesting for the rea son that apparently It leaves the waist line to take care of itself. Apparently, at least, there Is no attempt at tight lacing. Fashion's Incentive to model and re model the feminine figure Into many and diametrically opposed shapes Is the keen desire for something new, something different, Implanted In ev ery breast and her chief aid In the work, as everybody knows, Is and al ways has been the corset. At first this aid, called a girdle, was little more than a straight or curved band of varying width,, worn usually outside the clothing and giving a slight support to the figure without compress ing It From the girdle has been devel oped the present-day corset The corset of to-day Is an astonishing THE NEW FIGURE. and Intricate piece of work, made up of dozens of small segments of cotton, linen, silk, as the case may be, put to gether with vertical, horizontal, bias, and V-shaped seams, in turn re-enforced with steels, cords, and whale bones, pliable In some places, unbend able In others. Incidentally the more numerous the seams and bones the more a corset costs and the better prepared it Is to fulfill Its mission of training a wom an's form in the way it should go. None understands this Important fact better than the fashionable woman, who, undeterred by a question of cost, seems to be spurred on to a reckless extravagance at the appearance of ev ery new design which bespeaks a change of figure. No one rejoices more over her extravagance in this respect than the corset maker. A GERMAN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Berlin Cathedral, Where the Bnlera of the Land Will Be Kelnterred. The Immense cathedral at Berlin, Into which the German Emperor will gather the remains of his ancestors, as the English monnrchs are now en tombed In Westminster Abbey, Is rap Idly nearing completion and will soon be ready for its formal dedication. This superb work, fit, Indeed, for tho tomb of a line of kings, has already cost upward of $4,000,000 and is tha most notable architectural triumph In Berlin. The remains of the Emperor's forefathers are at present entombed In remote places. Frederick William IV. and Queen Elizabeth are burled at rotsdam, where also repose Frederick the Great and his father. Frederick William II. and Empress Augusta He mm L 11 'JUT SVW GEHUANY'b WESTMINSTER ABBEY. at Charlottenburg, and the Emperor's parents are burled at Sana Soucl. Tha present plan of bringing together .un der one roof the dust of the dead Ho benzollerns has been one of the present Kaiser's most cherished dreams. It would appear, Is about to be real ized. Not Anxious About It. "Few men are as good as they pre tend to be." "Well, what of It? Few men want to bo." Judge. The world seems all the brighter to some lovers when they turn down tha gas.