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Weekly News, The (Newspaper) - January 24, 1884, Frederick, Maryland THE WEEKLY NEWS. VOL. 7. FREDERICK, MD., THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 1884. PRICE PER YEAR With All Your Might. Ecclcsiastes ix; JO. If you have anv task to do, Let me whisper friend, to you, Do it. If you've anything to say, True and needed, yea or nay, Say it. If you've anything to love, As ii blessing from atove. Love it. jf HIU'VO anything to give, That another's joy may live. Give it. If you know what torch to light, Guklin? others through the night, Light it If .you' anv debt to pay, Hitst you neither night nor day, Pay it. If you've any joy to hold, uur heart, lest it grow cold. Hold it. Meet it. See it. I Hear it, If you've anything-to meet. At the living Father's feet, If you've (rive a I'irht to see w hat a child of GoJ should be, hi tlier life is bnj-ht or dear, UK re's a niessaire sweet or clear, Wln-jH-ruJ down to every ear. Tanled Lives; OK, A BROKEN TIE. BABBETT SILVESTER, OF "A rJLTAJt. MISTAKE, "rETTEEZD, JET "ESTELLE'S ETC. [t'OUMKSt.'ED JS VOL 1, NO l.J ab JL am aumiF to call on my old friend, Eu'-'tue Bowniout, said the "iVill you iu.compr.ny me I Liuly Au- piM.i is dead, and I should like to offer km1. a little respect I viiiL if you desire said Geral- dui" v> uhout raising her eyes from the uoih on which she was engaged. Well. dear, if it will not be disagree- I should like it." Lir.d Bowmont was sitting with a f running brow over n letter he had jtist ltd ived from his son's tutor tit Oxford FjuvAmg of the disgraceful excesses in jouug as he he indulged, aiul giving up his appointment as tutor. AVhat IUB.I to do with this degenerate Raid Lord Bowmont, bitterly. i :ua rightly punished. Oh, Geraldine. 3 on :ire "udeed euged. and Viscountess Dunkellon are in the drawing-room, my said a M i .u .t, opening the door. said Eugene, starting up. ''1 -Jy Bowmen t desired me to come to om- lordship and inform you that tho Account and Viscountess Dunkellou with her. attend her immediately, said L n d Bowniout, making a violent effort tj ho culm. "It has come at he said, clasp- ing his temples. "The interview I have so longed for and dreaded must be borne. It will be worse than death to see her another's but it must be so. Hastily arranging his attire he de- scended. As his hand rested on the oiawmg-room door, the sweat, clear tones of Geraldine sent him staggering back. "Oh, my lie said, wiping the drops from his brow. "How calmly she spe.iks? She does not dream, of my agony." .AN ith an immense effort he conquered agitation and entered the room. "craldiae was sitting on a coucb. be- aile the Dowager Lady Bowmont Her exquisite bonnet ot blue velvet with its drooping plume, seemed like a crown to her angelic head, while tho f eavy folds of blue velvet added dignity to her slight form. "Bowmont, I am glad to see yon. permit me to introduce you to my wife. Ueralduie, my iOTe> Lord Bowmout. u wi Awards him. met before, my she saul, in calm, quiet tones. Bowmont bowed over the Land refer to the mutter answered tlie Viscount "From the day I saw Geral- dineat her father's grave her face haunted me. I know you loved her, and that your love was returned but you were married, and 1 was not The girls were destitute, and I found them starving. 1 won her regard, and married her. She was not aware of my title until after- wards. (i said Eugene, hoarsely, "you are an honorable man; you de- serve the treasure you have won. I lost her, and have no right to complain." "Ah, Bowmont, I can read in those silver streaks among your dark hair that you have suffered, and I fear you sutler still. "I deserve it murmured Eugene do not svmpatluze with me Little did the generous, impulsive yoiuig nobleman think how guilty was tJie man whose hand he grasped little did he think that hand had severed the tie which should have bound the loving young wife to her husband, had divided a mother from her children, had degraded a noble family, and branded the bov his n .soul doted on with But the Viscount knew notlaiig of He knew thut Lord Bowmont had lured Geraldine and had won her love, but he had concluded that wedding Lady Augusta while his heart was another's, and fortxiKing the penniless girl for the heiress, was his greatest erimf. Edith left ATI's Austin's, as Mrs. Fal- coner's health had been rather delicate of late, and oted herself to her supposed mother. But Mrs. Falconer would not suffer i hr r to remain always by her side; be- sides, there was a" fascination in the I library of Bowmont House that she j could not resist i-'or hours the lovelv girl would sit at Lord Bowmont's feet, j listening to him as he poured out to her thj stores of knowledge he had ac- quired The youths were fast merging into m.iuliocd. Earnest and Edward were uow eighteen, and were to leave college at Christmas. Tius was November, arid Ltlilh was anticipating, with joyous dc- bgbt, their armaL i'ite only drawback to her pleasure was the change in Edward. His manner in his had ever been tender wht-u lie did speak, and his glance full of the foadsv-t love; but now he would shrink j from her presence, and when she would tlirow her white arms round his neck m a 1 .tying embrace, he w onld become pale I .is death, and would tremblingly draw j back. i He had become j fellow, much taller I Jiuger in every wsiv. I uay a study of itself a splendid young Ernest imd His noble head the broad, smooth him to hide the deadly or that had crept over his face. escaped the Viscount ?uJetly resumed her con- l. Dowager, and he in Ixwd Bowmoiit'a to be m? Ue you usffd pose 6brated lor your flowers; sup- CuV md your collet the way. to the- flonserva- fore ve -from fort head was so intellectual, the eyes so soft yet so beaming, the straight nose so cl.issu-al. and the mouth, with the small brown moustache so perfect. He had w on high honors at college. and was bearing home the respect and nllVvtion of master and companions. Xot so Reginald. A letter from the college requested that Lord Bowmont would not again send his son, as he could not be admitted. Ernest, although not commended so rniu'h for his progress, had passed his examinations very creditably, and was highly complimented on his uniform goodness and morality. Mrs. Falconer was at Bowmont House when the travellers were expected. Eu- gene could not bear that another but himself should receive his son, yet he did not wish to deprive Mrs. Falconer of that pleasure. Edith had remained for hours at tho drawing-room window watching for them. "It is getting dark, my said Lndy Bowmout, ''and you will be quite cold. Come here, and sit by me." "Wait one moment, dear said Edith; here is a carriage at last, and I it is they." The next moment she was in the hall, and in Edward's arms; he was too much agitated to speak, and could oulyldss the lovely face which nestled on his bosom. Gome, Edward, age is all very said Ernest; but its niy turn nowl" And Edith was subjected to a second edi- tion of hugging. "I think I ought to olaini the same said Eeginald, advancing. "Come, pretty one, repeat those charm- ing embraces." And he attempted to clasp her in his arais. With a look of disgust, for his breath, tainted with'wine and cigars, fanned her cheek, Edith shrank back, and turned an imploring look to Edward. Wiui flashing eyes, he was by her side in an instant. "Unhand my sister, he said, in a voice trembling with rage, lips shall not pollute her cheek 1" A vindictive' look lowered on. the young heir's brow as he drew back. "Be it so, "he said; I will not forget the affront" There was ft deep meaning ui look and words that seat the blood from Edith's cheek, but Edward's whispered encour- agement reassured her. proaigaey was no secret to her brother, and he resolved to watch carefully over the being whom he loved more than anything in the world. "The Viscount and Viscountess have accepted my invitation, said Lady Bowmont, "and will be here on Thursday." said Lord Bowmont, and their son "Yes." I hear that he passed his examination with great credit. How is it that Kegi- nold alone disappoints us "I cannot tefl, my son. I fear he is entangled in some disreputable com- pany, for we see him now." Could they have seen him at that mo- ment, they would have known the truth of their surmises, for long after everyone in the house had retired, Reginald, with unsteady gait and flushed face, let him- self in with a ktch-key, and staggered to his room. One feverish head and unquiet heart was awake when Reginald returned. Edward had striven in vain to forget himself and sleep, but a torturing feel- ing of agony and of self-reproach kept him awake. For months Edward had ieamed to dread the intensity of his love for Edith; the thought of her ever being another's drove Inm almost to madness, and the sound of her sweet voice thril- led him with a sensation riot consistent j with a brother's love. Yes Fjdward Falconer loved his sup- posed sister with the absorbing love of a voung fond heart, and it was with a j shuddering horror that he felt the passion growing upon him and absorbing every faculrv. He had striven against it, and thought he had succeeded m schooling I his feelings to brotherly fondness, but I the next touch of her arms around his 1 neck, the nest kiss he had pressed upon I her lips, had taught him how vain had I been his efforts. "Oh, what have I done that I should be tortured thus he exclaimed, starting I from his bed "Why is my heart so I perversely wicked! Slie is my j my he continued, clasping his I throbbing temples. Oh, whj will not my heart acknowledge her as He continued to pace his room until I the gray morning to light his I chamber. "I must leave he said, as he sank back exhausted upon his bed. I must leave you I can never see you i another's, my peerless Edith! Already I read in the lingering glances of Gerald Dunkellou the light oi that love it is a crime in me to i The ball at Bowmont House was the grandest of the season. Not only was die beautiful Viscountess Dmik'ellon present, but a new star in the person of Edith Falconer set the butterlhes of fiisliiou in a buzz of admiration. To the tortured heart of Edward the ball seemed as if it never would end. The crowd of fashionables hemmed the beautiful Edith round, and. Edward hovered near her the whole evening, anticipating every wish. In vain had her eyes turned towards him imploringly, beseeching him by their niute entreaty to rescue her from the fulsome compliments and unmeaning nonsense of the flatterers around her. He dared not respond; he felt the touch of her small fingers would unman him, so, pale and stem, he kept aloof. Why, said Lord Bowmont, towards the close of the entertainment, "I fear unwell; I have not seen you dance once. Let me introduce you to a partner." "1 thank your said Edward, "but if you will permit me, I will re- tiro." "Do, my boy, if you prefer it This way will lead you to the conservatory." As Edward entered the charming re- treat he was conscious of another form resting ig the quiet of the shrubs and flowers. "Oh, murmured the lady, I thought my heart Avas dead! Oh, that it would cease to would have rest then." Edward quietly drew back without dis- tnrbiug her, his own heart softened by another's sufferings. The darkness was too great to see who the lady was sho was evidently, unhappy. Editih retired to her chamber exhausted, and, in spite of her triumphs, unhappy. Edward liad not approached her the whole evening, and his approbation and attention had ever been the dearest ob- ject of her heart. "Oh, she exclaimed'to her young friend; "what can I hare done? Edward has not spoken to me all the evening. And what to me is the flattery of those other young men, if he disap- proves Frances Leslie was Edith's bosom friend and companion at school. She was on orphan and had been placed at Miss Austin's by her guardian: and as she remained at Miss Austin's all the va- cations, Edith had entreated Lady Bow- mont to invite her to Bowmont House for the Christmas. She woaa Kpujflo, loving the humblesf opinion of Tier own person and acquirements. And yet she was a beautiful girl, not so brilliant as our lit- tle Edith but there was a loving look in her soft brown eyes, and a gentle look in her pretty face, that attracted atten- tion and rivited the wandering glance. From the day that Ernest had bestowed a silver arrow on her foot for her skill in archery she had never forgotten him, and it was with a bounding step and beating heart that she prepared to accept the invitation that would bring her again into his society. Ernest, for his part, had quite for- gotten the blushing girl on whom he had made such an impression but his natu- ral kindness for anything gentle and dependent led him to treat her with a considerate kindness that continued the first feeling of her timid affection. "How can you have done anything, sweet Edith she said, fondly throwing her arms round her neck. "Edward loves you as fondly as ever sister was loved, but perhaps he has something to distract his attention he may be in love, you she added with a smile. "Edward in said Edith, with a pale cheek- ''Oh, no, Fanny. He has promised me a thousand times that he would never marry. I never, never, in- tend to, and why should he "Oh, 1 3.O not know, dear but those promises were made when you were children, and he is a man now, you know." Tes; but I intend to keep him mine. Who is there in the world that I would exchange for "And Ernest." "Dear she said. "But I am not so sure of always keeping Ernest. Did you see how often he danced with that handsome girl, Keginald's cousin I do not know what he could see in her. I disliked her the moment I saw her; she looked so proud and cold. Did you think her handsome Fanny "I don't faltered the girl. "I see you are almost asleep, Fanny, so I will not talk any more. Good rather, good morning, pet." And two fair girls, in spite of their secret uneasiness, were soon sleeping the sweet sleep of innocence. CHAPTER XTT. It was a dark and bitterly cold evening that a young girl stood waiting on a lonely part of a heath for the stage-coach to pass. She was very young and pretty, but very pale, as she walked to and fro, while the wind and sleet drove into her face. Slie had waited perhaps half an hour, when a man overtook her and grasped her by the arm. He was a tall young fellow of about twenty, and was well- made and good-looking. He was dressed hi a velvet coat and wideawake hat, and, from the gun in his hand, evidently held the position of gamekeeper. The girl screamed as she felt his hand upon her arm, and turned sharply round. "What do you wont, she asked, coming upon one in such a What do you want girl he asked. "And what is it to you what I "Much, very much to me, you know what it is to me." don't want to know anything, said the girl, turning away; "3on have nothing to do with me. I have told you before, so please let me yet, lass; not till you've heard what I've got to say. I couldn't rest in my bed if 1 let you go without one word of parting, disagreeable, useless, maybe, as it is." "I want no warning, she said, coloring, "least of all from you. You was always jealous of me, when we was children together, even if another boy offered me a bunch of cowslips." That's true, true I was jealous. But surely you ku whv I was jealous. 'Twos because 1 loved'ye then, when you was not much higher than my knoe, and don't I love you You've told me that many times said the girl, impatiently. "So I have, I have; and have ye not listened to them with a blush on ye cheek and the smile in ye eye Ah, Nellie, you loved me once, before the fine Lunnon chap whispered his lies in irourear; listen to mo now. The gen- tleman cannot mean you good. Why should a gentleman seek you but for your ruin "You never had much opinion of me, Ealph, "said the girl, angrily "and if others see what you don't, I should like to know why 1 should not believe them." "Because they only speak to deceive yon. I know why you are hero, Ellen you are waiting for the coach to take you up to Lnnnon." "said the girl, with a toss of her head, "what you are going to meet Mr. Reginald Bowmont." And if I Soing to yonr rain. Oh, Gelhe, do not ceo. Think of roue father, your and think" of me, too, my lassie I" he continued. "1 shall never be happy again if you never aee another face to love, never a bright summer's day all will be dark and gloomy to me, darling. Oh, for the .sake of this one true heart, Ellen, do not The girl trembled, but turned away her head. "I must go, she said, hus- kily. "I do not love you, and I do love him." "Bui he is not worthy, Ellen you will soon forget him when his nattering tongue is not whispering lies into your ears." The girl's vanity flamed up into her cheeks. "That's all you've got to say against she said If there's nothing in me for In'rn, there's nothing for you therefore, you needn't regret me, and I shall go." She moved away with a rapid step, but the young man overtook iier. "One word more, Ellen. Should you ever want a friend, remember, lam one for ever He turned away, and was soon lost in the gathering darkness. The stage just then came rattling along, and, with a foreboding heart, the girl took her place inside. Ellen Graham was the daughter of a gamekeeper. She was a pretty, but vain girl, and had obtained the affection of her father's assistant more by her pretty face than her other qualities. They had been engaged for years and until Eegi- nald Bowinont first cast his eyes on her fair form, they had been happy. But hers was the sprightly face that he ad- mired, and very soon lie found that his whispered flatteries had not been poured into empty ears. When he returned to London from Oxford, he had obtained from the foolish behoved all his words, and was dazzled by anticipated silks and satins, operas and promise that she would meet him in London, at an address he gave her. What need to follow her in her down- ward course She soon found the heart of her betrayer to be as cold as her owu had been to the agony and prayers of her forsaken lover. At the end of sis months he cast her off. He was now engaged in a more diffi- cult conquest, the winning of the beauti" ful Edith but his coarse nature was s j opposed to every delicate instinct of lies pure mind, that she shrank from every offered attention, and dreaded his ap- proach. Edward had left Bowmont House and was at home with his mother but his self-reproach and agony were iiot abated, and his mother at length yielded to his entreaties and purchased a commission for him in the army. It was a great trial to the fond mother, but his pale face and the lock of suppressed unhappiiiesg thai was now always in his eyes, told her of some great mental struggle, and perhaps some active employment would sub- due it. The voluntary absence of Edward wna a source of grief to Edith. She could not understand her own sensations sha only knew that every thing had lost its charm, and that even the society of Lord Bowrnoiit could not nil the void his absence created. His letters breathed the fondest love, and were filled with the outpourings of a noble spirit; but there ran through them all a vein of self-reproach and humble depreciation that the girl could not understand. There was not one ex- pression which brotherly love could not have dictated, yet she hid his letters in her bosom, and never even showed them to Fanny, her hitherto confidant and friend. But there was one eye that had read the secret that Edward would not ac- knowledge and Edith did not herself know, and that was Eeginald Bowmont's. With the quick eye of jealousy, he had dived into the secret of Edward's manner and withdrawal, and saw in Edith's love for him his own defeat. He knew standard of perfection was Edward, and if no suitor reached that perfection, she would not be won. It was in vain he tried to school his words and manners in imitation of Edward's. Edith detested o effort he could make would detain her an instant in his presence alone, and she shunned him as she would have done something antagonistic; to her nature. It was a bitter experience to the young Erofligate, and gradually the love which o had felt gave place to a feeling of hatred and revenge. Edith's manner had become so sub- dued and her lovely face so -sad, that Lord Bowmont at length yielded to the Viscount's entreaties, and suffered her to pay a visit to Dunkellon Hall. He trusted the fresh air of the country would revive the roses that a London season had faded. In the meantime Ernest had been en- raged in a furious flirtation with Miss Clarissa Howard, the daughter of Lord Bowmont's slater. She was a belle and a dashing young beauty; but a coquette Season's standing. INEWSPAPERif NEWSPAPER!
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