Page 2 Advertisements Column 1

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 373, 2 July 1903, Page 2

, I M Whoa ilary claans r— - - When alts comes in : vf broom, ily very acul is filled with gloom, I leave my treasures to their doom. I wander here, I wander there, I bump against things everywhere. I sit outside upon the stair, My heart chilled with doll despair, When Mary cleans my room. When Mary cleaaß my room, So well I know how it will be, - i .- , I introduce myself to me. n■' F«r everything is strange and new, My old coat rone/old slippers,lW>: " The clock tacks with a 'done-up' air. The globes are blinding in their glare, The books look down with frigid stare. P«.t Venus slipped behind a vase. A soapy look on Psyche's face, Aad everything is out of place I mumble, mumble day by day does she hide thins*, anyway P'.- - like to—if I dare— f| * ft and-talk \ ffi •: • WbenMary d&^i&mom ! - %j- ---"■•-■-_,. ji .-■"-■*•! ■ss&JJ. M. Lyon. ijjgjb. B^ifE While the tJ&ee yearly - An evil name wiITH»D to;lJ§lae -jgjpW While a good name B<jal6**ppea«so/v But the rank weed dies in *,eingle||%bt, While the rare plant still blooms oh, And the evil name will sink to shame Wbile the good name's in its dawn. The way that is won without any work Ib not worth winning at all — A sudden light—a meteor flight—- '■ A sparkle—a trail and afall. {• j 1 Fear not, brave heart, whate'er thy lot, , coral, build deep,jn the£«, And a beautiful land with a glittering strand Shall owe its existence to thee. And if failure be thy part, O heart! What compeßsation shalt thou find For the weary years and bitter.tears, And thy mission, half diy.in,ed P fr ' This little work ie dbie well; P [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] THE Ctmsdenceof^b^^ By Adeline Sabgeant. COPYRIGHT , '•;.:..• i .-'. ■-.■ .J Li)\) 0 ki sum. I thought from what he said that ', ». It was as large an .amount as Uncle pale. She be set agaffiairHhe b"theV/Wat y her Bay. *•»- -—" ~i-:_ _"ii--_ . ~' , k cannot give you the exact'words, bub this , 1 r , ..- •, i , .. was the sense of them.' t? had I dbl«?H»a|;sdeserved dm- Hedworth: ground his heel into the U carpet. "She liar 1' he?said slowly.'• 'The JW w »8 I »np- kind, I wonder ?' me my crime.* . You B_aid 8 _ aid E « e m . ]ow voice s#, *! £&££]&& , You *?° k « His wife; Yes, I didnot think.ofthj*. and you were ashamed to come back.' 'And'are hot:' you not a little bit ashamed,' said Hedwortb, in the new grave voice that as yet she did not know, ' to have believed so terrible a lie ?' CHAPTBB X.—HEDWOBTH'S INTENTION. •It could not be a lie; Gilbert told me himself.' to her ? • Yes, I believe so.'' - «And' the children ? He has children,"! believe ?' * Yes, seven children. One of them is very like you.* Had worth frowned. . ; ' : How—like me P'-. ♦Like your' father—his grandfather, to resemble Uncle Matthew.' Erne was speaking very guardedly; she U« 91_ 1 l-„J.I 1 1 ) were said Hedworth. in ajreer yeice, 'thanT eJJKed iH&w^hJrS for Gilbert! I suppose the red-haired Gilbert say ?' ties from the East, and tiger skins P ' Come, Eflie, tbafs nonsense. Eemem-: Bbould like it to be unstained. It ie j pl-in duty to tell me what I am accused^' ; : pSirasla looked^ 'Taeny %' said her cousin emphatically. ■ Lister. Effie. This little band is to t0 * him m ' ?t ° th " r,£opSa ' R treatm9Bt of wrote to me when I was in London ?' ' You did not get it, did you ?' been wronged. . You. know that I! loved Dorie Lane j you must know it—-you yourJgL I™* * g °° y °? , * I saw it,, but I did not understand it then/ , said Eflie, wondering . why. the -1 ■ , . -., "" ' memory should hurt'her as it did. asked eagerly. lying in a London hospital, Etfle, having had so many of my bones broken, that nobody thougnt I should ever walk again. Gilbert again. I nad taken a packet of I nev«r hoked at them even when I recovered, for my head was confused and I forgot that they were naread. I left them in a box with some other things of mine—met Sandemann, who took a fancy to rce and anked rae to go with his expedition to Africa; thence 1 went on to Asia, and, in short drifted about the world until I happened to read your letter, Effie, which brought me to London six months ago.' 'Bo long! Why have you not been here before V ' Because I have been informing myself of certain matters which seemed of importasce to me,' said Hedworth. ' His face darkened to stemees. 'lt is very plain that I have been wroaged, Effie,' he said —' wronged in money matters; wronged in reputation* I have come now prepared to enforce my own claims. And I call on you to repeat what you said in vour letter about my father's legacy to ■a,' * I know now,' said Euphrasia, ' that it was not a legacy at all—in law. It was a moral obligation, I suppose. Your father told Gilbert that he waa sorry he bad. not left yon a sum of money with which to make a fresh start in life, and la directed Gilbert to pay yr,u five thousand pounda. Gilbert promised to do so, and I—being a child and knowing no better —told you of the premise.' • Yes, exactly so. Bat go on. Of coarse I never t<uched a penay of that mm. Have you any theory about Gilberts silence P Was it sheer roear.neon and dishonesty on hia part? Or have you hj, defence for him P lam ready to listen—if f-iwe ia any defence.' Something inexorable and vaguely menacing in his tone struck Effie, ana filled her with alarm. " There rcuFt haw, b en sorn« great mistake,' she E&id pitifully. • Gilbert certainly believed what h- said. He told me tbat he bad not given you the five thousand pounds because jou had robbed him of a large thrill in his voicq as he spoke ot his early l o ya --ThOh, Hedwortb, I cannot think tbat * Yte, I remember her sweetness, but jli call it by a different name. I call it intolerable weakness of fibre: she shransj from saying ' No,': -because she, waa afraSrthat 1 would be angry with her,. That isi all that it comeu to, Eflie. " l should imagine—from my experience of men and womtm in various quarters of the globo—j that Mra. Gilbert Pollard has by this time sunk into a limp, nerveless female,, who melts into tears on the first opportunity,and cannot bear her children in the room because the noise thoy make gives her a headache.' -'. ! 'Hedworth, you are uncanny ! Some one must have told you about herV said Euphrasia, checking, a laugh—the first laugh she had given since she had come into the house—and a very sweet; low laugh it was. 'She ie an invalid, and her nervtsare weak, certainly, but she is very lovable, and very charming at the same time.' .. mtMßsMsts 'Bhe is not livable and charming for me any longer,' said Lor cousin, with a harßh laugh, bo why need I care'about' her d-ivelopment ? As the old rhy ma says : ' If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair jho bo P' And, indeed, Effio, it m a matter of the utmoet indiffurenoe to inn whether Mtß. Gilbert Pollard is wise or foolish, ugly or beautiful, ill or wnll.' j 'Thenyoocaß the mofe easily forgive iter for having hurt ytrti t»u y«-ars ago.' 'Neatly put,' s-iid Hedwortb. 'You e<:ore there, Effie. But 1 oave not tom» koine in a particularly forgiving spirit, you «ee. '1 here'R a pound of flesh due lo roe aomnwher*, and I mean to havo it before I go. Well'—after a puma— 'so much for the love of womau. Now we come to the question of honour. As soon as I read your letter, Effie, your dear, babyish little loiter, in which you told ma how glad you were that my father had told Gilbert to give me some money, and