The Columbia register., July 08, 1904, Image 6

MASTER OF
$ By Robert
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CHATTER 71 II. Continued.)
She paused a moment outside; then
ahe hurried away I, rather aimlesly, fol
tawing her. She creased the high rvad
and took a narrow footpath which led
by a ahort cut to the mine. Wondering
what could be taking her that way, I con
tinued to follow her. When ahe had got
bout half-way to the mine, ahe turned
off again, and hastened along with In
creased speed toward Ureystoek Tower.
Greystock Tower was a ruin, consist
ing of three dilapidated try-covered walls
nd a buttress; it stood ou an eminence
a few hundred yards from the seashore,
nd by the superstitious inhabitants of
the Tillage was supposed to be haunted.
I waa astonished to see her going to
ward it, alone, on a dark night, and as if
her Tery life depended opon her speed.
Having reached the ruin, she paused, and
stood aa if listening. I crept up in the
shadow of the ruin. Presently I heard
peculiar whistle. Annie aaid softly:
"Tea I am here." Then a figure,
that of a man, emerged from the dark
ness and joined her.
My astonishment at all this wss so
great that for a time I was utterly un
able to more. They stood close togeth
er, talking earnestly; but I could not
catch a word of what they said. Pres
ently they began to move sway, and I
deemed it time to interfere.
In two strides I wss between them
Annie uttered a scream. The man stood
his ground, and looked into my face. It
was now my turn to ntter an exclama
tion. It was young Redruth, the master
of the mine.
"What are yon doing here, Trelaw
neyT he asked, curtly.
"I am here to take my cousin home,
air," I replied.
"Indeed," he Sneered; "I ahould hare
thought you were here to play the rpy!"
"Even that would be better than play
lag the rillain." I returned.
"Hugh, dear Hugh!" said Annie, pluck
ing at my sleeve.
"Don't agitate yourself, Annie," said
Redruth, coolly, while I was ready to
knock him down. "And you, sir, stand
out of the way; I have business with
this young lady, and I request you to
leav us."
"And if I refuser
He raised a small cane which he car
ried and struck me across the shoulders,
la moment I had wrenched it from his
hand, and with one well-planted blow I
would have made him measure his length
upon the ground, but, with another
scream Annie rushed forward and stood
before us.
"You shall pay for this, yon scoun
drel I" said my master; and, without an
other word, he disappeared into the dark
ness. Annie, still frightened snd trembling,
rushed forward to follow him, but In a
moment I was beside her.
"You'll come with me, Annie," I said
taking her hand firmly in mine.
By this time she was crying bitterly.
"Oh, Hugh," she sobbed, "what havs
yon done You wiU ruin ns all your
self, father, and all of us!"
I kept my hold upon her, and led her
back across the meadows to the cottage.
During the walk, no word passed be
tween us. I was silent, expecting she
would give some explanation of the
scene. When we reached the cottage
gate, she paused, and spoke.
"Hugh," she said, "you won't tell
mother or father "
"No. no," I interrupted her. "Don't
fesr for me, but I mean to look after yuo
in the future, Annie."
"Don't be hard on me, nngh," she
aid, piteously. "I meant no harm. But
It will be better for you and father if I
speak to the young master sometimes."
"You'd best let us manage our own af
fairs, Annie, and keep yourself to the
house; always remember that."
She dried her eyes and composed her
self a bit, and we went in tojrether. The
old couple were astonished, but not ill
pleased at seeing us in company. They
noticed Annie's pallor, too, and exchang
ed looks, the meaning of which I "how
knew full well. I dreaded to be question
ed; co when Annie had gone to her room,
which she did pretty quickly, I explained
that I had returned for certain little ac
count books. Then I hurried back to the
office to finish my night's work.
CHAPTER IX.
The next morning Annie attended at
breakfast as usual. She looked a little
pale, nnd now and again glanced uneas
ily and rather questionlngly at me. When
I rose to go, she put on her bonnet, say
ing: "I am going a bit of the way with
Hugh, mother;" and then, somewhat to
my surprise, she came along with me
Into the road. "Hugh, dear Hugh, I
have been out before this morning. I
have seen the young master," she said.
"You must not get angry indeed, yon
must not I did it for the best. I was
afraid, after what happened last night,
that he would dismiss you; and he would
have done, but I have interceded."
"You have interceded for me?" I said.
"Then you were wrong, Annie; if he
wishes to dismiss me, let him. I have
other means of earning my bread."
For answer to this Annie employed a
stronger medium than words she cried.
Now, tears always disarm me; all I
could do' was what I did; soothe my
cousin, kiss her pretty cheek, call my
self a brnte, and avow that she was the
dearest, sweetest little woman in the
world. Under this process, Annie came
round, and smiled sadly up at me through
ber tears.
"You promise," she said, "to go on
Just the same as usual, and to take no
notice of what occurred last night?"
"I will promise," I said, "if you can
ahow me the good of it"
"The good of it will depend npon
whether or not you care anything about
me!" she replied. "Just think, Hugh,
If you twol quarrel again, and you are
dismissed, everybody will know why It
all came about and my mother and
father, too. Ah, Hugh, dear Hugh, foi
my sakel"
She folded her little hands over my
arm, and looked up into my face like a
supplicating child.
"AH right, Annie," I said: "don't wor
ry yourself, little woman. I won't do
a thing that will Injure you,"
TttK MlJNc
Buchanan.
IT or a couple of days or so the master
kept away, and things went on at the
works pretty much the same as usual;
hut on the fourth day he strolled down.
He talked a good Ural to Johnson, but
never addressed one word to me. He
looked at me, however, and the look ha
gave made me wonder what strange in
fluence Annie possessed when she could
Induce hint to keep in his employment one
whom he so cordially hated.
One day my aunt, having a little shop
ping to do, determined to go to Pal
mouth. She started off in the morning in
John Hndd's wagon, and left my cousin
to keep house.
Now, It had seemed to me that Annie
had looked particularly dull that morn
ing; so, towards afternoon, I determined
to take an hour and to hurry back to
the cottage to see how she was getting
on. As I drew near to the cottage door,
I waa astonished to hear voices the
one loud and angry, the other soft and
pleading. When I entered the kitchen
my amaxemcnt Increased tenfold.
An elderly lady none other. Indeed,
than old Mrs. Redruth, George Red
ruth's widowed mother was standing in
the middle of the room, while my cousin
Annie, vcrying bitterly, was actually on
her knees before her!
Mrs. Redruth had two characteristic,
her confirmed ill health and her iron
will. Her power in the village was
great; but she was feared, rather than
beloved. She wss a tall, thin woman,
with powerful aquiline features and a
face of ghastly pallor.
"Your tears don't deceive me," she
was saying. "1 am not a man and a
fool. I am a mother, and I know when
danger threatens my child, and I say
that you are doing your best to entangle
my son. But take care. George Red
ruth shall not be sacrificed."
"Oh. my lady!" sobbed Annie, "will
you listen V
"Xo," she returned. "I will not! Listen
to you when every word you ntter must
be a lie! I have seen you with my son.
Cease to follow him, or I will expose you
before every soul In the village!"
She turned to leave the cottage, and
came face to face with me. She paused
abruptly, opened her lips, as if about to
speak; then she changed her mind, and
without uttering a word passed out.
As for myself, I had been too much
stupefied to say a word, and I stood
now, like a great bear, looking at my
cousin, who, sobbing piteously, had sunk
into a chair. I went up to her, raided
her and folded her in my arms.
"Annie," I said, "Annie, my dear, let
there be an end to this. Give me the
right to protect you from all this trouble
that has come upon you lately. Become
my wife."
She stared and stared at me like a
frightened child.
... "Your wife, Hugh?" she said. "Your
wife!"
"Yes. Annie," I answered. "My wife
that is, if yon care for me enough, my
dear!"
At this she fell to crying afresh, and
clung to me tenderly.
"Ah, Hugh, dear Hugh!" she sobbed.
"You are the kindest and best man in
all the world, and it is your kindness
which makes you ask me this now. No,
Hugh; be what yon have always been
my own dear brother."
I looked into her eyes, and I thought I
read their meaning. Annie did not care
for me; her heart was with another man,
and that man far above her.
CHAPTER X.
After this I watched Annie a good deal,
and I soon discovered she had a great
and growing trouble on her mind. She
was restless and ill at ease, and once or
twice, while I observed her quietly, I
saw tears suddenly start to her eyes.
Her mother and father noticed this,
too; but they attributed" the change to
quite another cause. They were good,
honest folk, who could only consider
one project at a time; and as for sev
eral months past their minds had been
occupied solely with the idea of a mar
riage between Annie and myself, they
naturally assumed disagreements be
tween ns two to be the cause of their
daughter's depression.
One afternoon I was standing at the
mouth of the mine when I was startled
by the sudden appearance of my aunt.
She looked pale; rather alarmed; but
ready to become very angry.
"Hugh!" rhe said, before I had time
to open my lips, "where be Awnie?"
Had I been able at that moment to
produce my cousin, she would certainly
have been rated very soundly; whereas,
I shook my head and said, "I don't
know!" the rising anger entirely disap
peared, and her face grew paler. She
broke down, and moaned between her
sobs, "Oh, Hugh! she's gone, gone!"
I was fairly stunned, and all I could
do just then was to comfort my aunt,
who was weeping bitterly. When she
was more composed I asked for an ex
planation. The facts were simple enough.
After my uncle and I had left for the
mine, my aunt rose, expecting to find the
kitchen fire alight as usual, and Annie
busy. She called Annie, bat got no an
swer; she searched the cotjage, but fail
ed to find her. Several hours passed
away. She went down .to the village
and made several inquiries, but with no
resulfc Annie had pot been seen by any
one that day.
Having told her tale, my aunt looked
at me, hoping that I might be able to
say ber fears for her child were unfound
ed. I could not; the utmost I could do
was to counsel silence, and to try to buoy
her up with hope. I persuaded her to re
turn home. But the day was finished
for me. I could de nothing but think
of Annie; the worst fears struggled to
take possession of me, but I diligently
thrust them away. I would not believe
ill of my cousin.
About five o'clock my nncle came up
from the mine, and I proposed that we
should knock off work for the day. He
was In singularly good spirits. As we
drew near to the cottage, my heart beat
painfully, and when we went in I looked
anxiously about me.
"Whar be the little woman V aeked
my ancle, as we sat down to our meal.
I saw my aunt's face grow very pale,
but ahe turned her head and answered aa
carelessly as possible.
"She be gawa out!
When the meal was ever my ancle,
according to his usual custom, went to
bis seat beside the fire and lit hla pip.
He had been smoking for an hour or
more, when a knock came to the kitchen
door; then the door was opeued, and la
came John Rudd. He had a parcel for
my aunt, which he delivered; he chatted
for a few minutes, then he prepared to
so. His hand waa on the latch of the
door, when he paused aud looked back.
"Say, missus," said he, "whar be Miss
Awnie gawn to?"
My uncle looked up curiously; my
aunt's cheeks grew as white aa new-fallen
snow.
"Whar be she gawn to?" she repeated.
helplessly.
Iss!" continued Rudd. "I seen her this
marnlng t Falmouth, but she were In a
hurry and didn't see me. She were dawn
on the jatty, and she went aboard the
steamer for Portsmouth."
Mr. Rudd paused, thunderstruck at the
effect of hie wools. My aunt, thoroughly
exhausted by the strain that had been
put upon her that day, sank, sobbing and
moauing, Into a chair; my uncle, who
had risen from his seat, stood glaring
irom one to another. Presently he spoke.
"What be all this about my Awnie r'
he cried. "Speak, some 'un. If there
be aught wrong wl my little woman,"
he cried, "tell me; I ain't a child to be
petted, nor a fool to be kept l' the dark.
Speak, tell me what 'tis all about!"
So we told him all we knew, and put
ting this and that together, he gathered
at least one idea that his child had, for
some reason or other, voluntarily left her
home. He stood like a man stupefied,
scarcely gathering the sense of the situa
tion, and dimly wondering why his wife
received the news so violently. But
when John Rudd was gone, and we were
left to ourselves, I told them my suspi
cions of George Redruth. To my sur
prise they were received with blank
amasement, then with Indignation. My
uncle averred . that I bad always dis
liked the young master. I determined to
go up to Redruth's house aud ascertain
If he were from home.
The moment my uncle heard of my de
termination he resolved to accompany
me. On asking for the master, we were
shown into the library; five minutes later
the young man himself walked into the
room. He had just been dining, wore
evening dress, -and had never looked
handsomer or more thoroughly at his
ease In his life.
"Well!" he said, glancing at us pleas
antly he was evidently in an after-dinner
mood "is there anything I can do
for either of you?"
"Master Jarge," said my uncle, earn
estly, "we'm in trouble, sir; in sore trou
ble. My daughter, my little Annie, she
be ruti'd away!"
"What!" he exclaimed. "Run away
from home, do you mean? But why
come to me? What can I do?" ,
"Naught, you can't do naught at all,"
said my uncle, "that's just it."
"The fact is, sir." I said, "there is
some villain at the bottom of it, and wo
want to find out who that villain is."
"And so you come to me! Really, I
don't see the force of all this, and I have
more Important matters to detain me!"
He opened the door, and we, seeing
that further conversation would be use
less, left the room and the house. Dur
ing the walk home my uncle never spoke.
When we reached the cottage he sank
down into a chair, and hid his face In
his hands.
Nothing more could be done that night,
so we all went to bed; but not to sleep.
During the night I frequently heard my
uncle walking with measured step up
and down his room, and in the grey of
the morning he came out to the kitchen
to kindle a fire.
I looked at him and scarcely knew
him; his face was white and lined like
that of an old man. He was quite calm;
but there was a sad look lb his eyes
which spoke of deep-set pain.
Several days after that sad night a
letter came from Annie; it bore the Lon
don postmark, and ran as follows:
"My Dear Parents:
"Do not grieve about me, for I am
quite well and in want of nothing. Do
not attempt to find me, it would be use
less; but I shall soon come back, with
God's blearing, snd then you will learn
why I left without a word. I am sorry,
so sorry, for any trouble I have given
you, and hope you will forgive me, for
the sake of the happy days that are gone
away. Your loving daughter,
"ANNIE."
My aunt read the letter aloud; then my
nncle took it from her, looked at it for
a long time, and finally, without a word,
placed it on the fire watching It till It
was consumed. After that, for a long
time to come, he never spoke of Annie
again; but he drooped daily, like a man
under the weight of some mortal pain.
(To be continued.)
The Century Plant.
The "century plant" was so named
because of the popular Idea that It
blooms only once in a hundred years,
says the Scientific American. It need
hardly be said that this idea is erron
eous. In the genial climate of Califor
nia the plant blooms In from fifteen to
twenty years,, but In colder climates
from forty to fifty years may be nec
essary to bring It to maturity. The
botanical name of the plant la Agave
Americana varlegata, and was given
to it because of Its splendid appear
ance. The agave is a native of North
ern Mexico, where It Is named the
maguey, and furnishes pulque, the na
tional drink of Mexico. In Golden
Gate Park, San Francisco, the sandy
soil is specially favorable to the agave,
of which there are about twenty spe
cies in various stages of existence.
When the plant begins to bloom, It
throws up a single stalk, from which
the tassel-llke flowers sprout forth on
either side. The great flower stalk
draws all the sap and vigor from the
broad leaves of the plant, which, after
It has reached Its perfection, droops
and dies. But at the base of the
fleshy, glossy, dark-green leaves are
found little suckers, each with a root,
which, when planted, at once begins to
grow. Though a century plant In
flower Is not a very uncommon, sight
In California, it Is sufficiently so to
attract considerable attention; while
to most Europeans It Is a very rare
and wonderful occurrence.
Vigilance Is watching opportunity.
Austin Phelps.
MANY SHIRT WAISTS.
THEY ARE NOW SEEN IN GREAT
VARIETY.
May ! HU or Fanciful a Ton
pleaae-Tola lree for Hummer Af
ternoon Wear Old Kashlous Kevlved
' and KmbcMlahed. .
New York correspondence:
lllKT waists are
iilaln or a fan-
( they are more set
ore tnau they nave
been for several
summers. The re
tirement from the
list of really fash
ionable aorta of the
severely plain white
waists of last year
la one factor toward
the general appear
ance of greater
dressiness, and the
restored employ
ment of colors lu
EiWA both goods snd
RlSllfl' trimming makes
12 fflll li toward the same
end. Shirt waist
styles are so diver
sified that It would
be a daring com-
menter who laid
down positive musts
a I'd ilon'ts, yet it should be appurent
thnt the greatly to be preferred sort of
pli. Inly made shirt waists is the perfec
tion tailor grade. That means an ae
curacy and nicety of cut, fit and hang
FOR SUMMER
that authorize completely all absence of
embtllishmcnt. But such waists always
are comparatively expensive, and this
season is no exception to the rule. Ho
the trimmed waist, one at least orna
mented at cuffs, collar and front, will
usually be more satisfactory. These can
be gotten up Inexpensively, yet to be
speak newness and stylishness. Econ
omising schemers will find detachable
trimmings an excellent medium, nnd the
CURRENT FORMS OF
prices of many of these are hardly con
siderable. The summer afternoon dresses of
women provided with stylish wardrobes
are remarkable for the novelties shown
in trimmings and the schemes for their
employment. It is hard for ordinary
shoppers to believe that all this ingenuity
aud fine taste is a hand-down from some
past generation or generations. The un
derlying main ideas may In a great many
cases be echoes of the more or less dim
past, but designers and makers should
have much credit for their skillful man
ner of effecting restoratlov. It would
Iff
v f I I 8V f:i
IP
be altogether cruel to Insist that thera 1
la iiothlug whatever new uudrr the son.
ami the fart Is that la reviving aoroe
of the fashloue of seventy years ago.
the up-to-date dressmaker adds quit as
much that la new as Is takeu from the
l-jgone fancy. So the final test becomes
not to discover what Is new or trans
ferred from the middle of last rentury
or earlier, but to search out what Is
tsMeful aud beautiful. With regard to
the gowns of the acronipauylng pictures
t'lC search will not be arduous. Here,
lu the Initial, la a gown of biscuit voile
trimmed with self bands corded w ith
browu velvet and set off with brown but
tons. First In the next sketch Is a green
turrets, Its self bands covered with a
fancy design lu black silk cord. Next
thla Is a white orgaudle showing pink
lines and dots aud trimmed freely with
pink rllhoii rosettes. In full length In
and trimmed freely with pink ribbon ro
settes, and last In this group la a gray
silk pongee trimmed with shirred band.
Then In full length lu the concluding
sketch la a white silk pongee trimmed
with embroidered straps of the goods.
Each of these gowns would psss as fine
and new anywhere, yet none of them la
at all elaborate according to current
tsndards for afternoon dresa-ups. .
In house dresses the feature of ira
bellishment that Is away to the fore Is
the fancy collar. These are added to
simple gown, or are simply placed up
on them, or they are made psrta of
dresses that are of elaborate character.
Men often than not the handsome collar
Is a conspicuous feature of the-gown's
ornamentation, and not Infrequently It
dominates the trimming of the get-up.
One or two examples are shown In to
day's concluding picture by the artist.
In both front and rear view Is shown
one of heavy white silk embroidered
ftrelt with white, and above this Is a
white silk collar embroidered In blue,
this on a simple blue soft silk bodice.
AFTERNOONS.
Ou the jacket of the princess negligee
pictured in half length was a collar of
white silk and gold cord embroidery,
the dress goods being white crepe de
chine. Flower designs are numerous In
the embroideries put on such collnrs, as
indeed, they are in all manner of trim
mings. Real or artificial, as permanent
trimmings or ns temporary ornaments,
flowers are being used much more than is
usual. Faddish, employment of them
ORNAMENTAL COLLARS.
will be much in evidence by midsunv
mer, but in the general fashion is much
that is in the best of taste.
Fashion Notes.
Elaboration is the keynote of the sea
son jn dressdom.
Shoulder trimmings droop In pseudo
grandmamma style.
Nets printed in cloudy Dresden effects
are very attractive.
Paradise plumes are a feature of the
new millinery and cherries hang tempt
lngly from many a delightful headpiece.
BIRIID AllYt.
)
A clergyman Touches for the truth
of a story which would otherwise be
Incredible. The winter of 1SS3 waa
the coldest In the experience of Min
nesota farmers, and the lire stock suf
fered terribly. About a mile from
the clergyman's house waa a piece of
timber. He kept hla oxen busy, he
saya, hauling wood to his bouse. The .
snow lay three feet deep, and the
sledding waa good. On the first of
January he yoked his oxen, ami In ad
dition to the yoke used some heavy
harness, Including thick leather traces.
t was 1 o'clock when he left home,
and In an hour or so he waa loading
the wood on the sled at the edge of
the timber.
Meanwhile a blinding bllitard blew
np, sweeping over the prairie at the
rate of fifty uillca an hour, ami piling
up the snow In drifts from eight to
ten feet deep. An the wind Increased
both myself nnd my oxen lieeame chill
ed to the marrow, saya tho minister,
and 1 knew that It was certain death
fo mnu and beast to stay out any
onger.
Turning the heads of my oxen home
ward in the very teeth of that blinding
storm, I urged them on across the
open space between the Umber and
my house. But oxen, however will
ing, are never rapid, and the one mile
seemed ten to me ns the heavy Ix'ast
pushed onwurd. Peeling that I should
surely freeze to death in a short time,
I jumped down from my load, plunged
homeward through the snow, and
reached my burn In half an hour.
I knew that my oxen could feel their
way homo, and fully expected them to
appear at the barn by nightfall If, per
chance, they were not blinded by tho
storm or lost In the Increasing drifts.
But night came on, aud uo oxen.
The storm abated, and I started out
with my hired man to find my missing
cuttle and my loud of wood.
We floundered through tho anow to
ward the timber, but tho oxen were
nowhere to be soon. We hunted all
night long, and arrived home just In
tltiio for breakfast, puzzled and mysti
fied. After breakfast out we started
nguln. helped this time by some of our
neighbors; but after a fruitless search
we cnnio back, vanquished. No neigh-
Imr had seen the oxen, and their dis
appearance became the sensation of
the neighborhood.
Thoy had cither been lost for good.
frozen to death In the deep snow, or
else hnd wandered off across the prai
rie to some distant farmer's burn.
We advertised In the country papers,
offering a reward of two hundred dol
lars for the return of tho oxen and
the wood. One week, two, three pass
ed by, but still no solution.
It was the thlrty-flst day of Janu
ary. There had been a thaw for sev
eral days, and much of the anow on
the prairie had disappeared, leaving
only about one foot In depth, except In
the deep hollows of my ranch. I was
driving a team of heavy farm horses
over to the timber to get another load
of wood, when, on passing through a
smnlt ravine a little to one side of the
ordinary road, I noticed a movement
In the snow.
Drawing in my reins, I alighted.
walked alnMit ten feet from my horses,
and lo! there were my oxen, alive, atlll
yoked together, stundlng-ln four feet
of snow, with just enough of their
lx)dles above the snow to muke a move
ment visible.
They hud lieen caught between the
stumps of two trees, and there they
hud been for thirty days, tumble to
move, and saved from freezing to
dentil only by the deep snow thnt so
mercifully hnd covered them. They
had eaten everything within reach, in
cluding the leather hurness, most of
the wood of the sled pole, tho bark of
the tree trunks, the twlvs and hUckh
lying round, nnd the roots of the trees
to a depth of three feet There they
had stood for thirty duys. They were
living skeletons. Every bone was visi
ble. Yet they were able to walk home,
and after careful feeding for another
thirty days they were ns strong as
ever, and were faithful animals on my
farm for ten years afterward.
Pablio Interest In Forestry.
Through the tenchlngs of Intelligent
forestry It has been made plain that In
our Western localities ruinous floods
and exhausting droughts can be large
ly prevented, and productive moisture
in useful degree and at needed periods
secured, by a reasonable und discrim
inating preservation of our forest
areas; the advocates of Irrlgntlou have
been led to realize that it Is useless
to provide for the storage of water un
less the sources of Its supply are pro
tected; and all those who, In a disin
terested way, have examined theso
questions concede that tree growth
and natural soil on our watersheds ure
more valuable to the masses of our peo
ple than the footprints of sheep or
cattle.
The opportune time has arrived
when effective public Interest in for
estry and forest preservation should be
persistently aroused and stimulated.
Grover Cleveland, In the Century.
Two Prices for Berries.
Marketer How much are the straw
berries? x 1
Strawberry Merchant Eighteen a
box an' turn 'em out an' let ye look at
'em; 12 a box an' not turn 'em out
Baltimore American. ,
Just "What It Meant.
Unsophisticated Cook If you please,
mum, tho butcher says I shall get 3
per cent on all' tho orders that I give
him. What does that men?
Mistress It means, Mary, that we
hall have a new butcher. Tlt-Blt.