Pittston Gazette

              E.STAI1MSHKI) 1MSO. 1 vol,. A L.V. NO. :i. i Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO., PA., FRIDAY, AUGUST 17, 1894. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. PER ANNUM i IN AOVANCX house, dressed in a quaint bpanisn areas. "Hring wine," said my host. The wine was brought—white wine of Oporto such as I had never tasted before. "Your health, senor." And my host stopped, his glass in hand, and looked at mo inquiringly. my taiK aia not interest, you overmucn, as at your age it had done were you heart whole. Surely also the lady is fair and tall? Ah, I thought so! I have i otieeil thutmcn and women love their oppc site in color, no invariable rule indeed, but good for a guess.'' nail indeed given it out in V ariimutli that he was lwmnd for Seville, but no ship bearing the same name as his had put in at Cadiz or sailed up the Guadalquivir, nor was it likely, having committed murder in England, that ho would speak the truth as to his destination. Still I searched on. liruw, or, DiuiDii ue uua-ia, i win eDtao you where you stand." undercover of a false marriage, he decoycw and deserted one Donna Isabella of tho noble family of Siguenza, a nun in a religious house in this city." "What," I exclaimed, "Is tho girl who came to si-ek your help two nights since the same that De Garcia deserted?" i' t gorrmiHT. taaa. rr trl A\nH°K- D i D De Garcia heard this speech, that today seems to me to smack of tho theater, though it wits spoken In grimmest earnest, and his face grew like the face of a trapped wolf. Yet I saw that he had no mind to fight, not because of cowardice, for to do him justice he was no coward, but because of superstition. He feared to fight with me since, as I learned afterward, he believed that ho would meet his end atiny hand, and It was for this reason chielly that he strove to kill me when first we met. to nor Cir nt the lo.ist forget some of my own trouble in listening to hers. So I IDude them bring her in. Presently she came, a tall woman wrapped in a dark cloak that hid her f;ico. I bowed and motioned to her to lDe seated, when suddenly she started and spoke. "No, father, I am not that man. I never saw Isabella do Siguenza except once, and I have never spoken to her. I am not the man who tricked her, but I know him. He Is named Juan de Garcia. "Ah," he said quickly, "'she would never tell his real name, even under threat of torture. Poor erring soul, she could be faithful in her unfaith. Of what would you speak to her?" 'Diego d'Aila," I answered. "llumph," Ito said. "A Spanish name, or jH-rhaps an imitation Spanish name, for I do not know it, and I have a good head for names." "No, not clever, but trained, as you will be when you have been a year in my hands, though pcrchance you do not intend to stop so long In Seville. Perhaps you came here with an object anil wish to pnw the time profitably till it is fulfilled. A good guess again, I think. Well, so lDe It. I will risk that—object und attainment aro often far apart. Do you take my offer?" "I Incline to do so." '•You aro very clever, senor." The house where my mother and grandmother hail lived was burned down, and as their mode of life hail N-en retired af ar more ttian 20 years of change few even rememliered their existence. Indeed I only discovered one, an old woman whom I found living in extreme poverty, and who once hull liecn my grandmother's servant anil knew my mother well, although she was not in the house ut tho time of her flight to England. From this woman I gathered some information, though, need'ess to say, I did not tell her that I was the grandson of her old mistress. ' The very sume, nephew. It was sho whom you heard pleading with him last night. Hail I known two days ago what I know today, by now this villain hail been safe in prison. But perhaps It is not yet too late. I am ill, but I will rise aud see to it. Leave it to me, nephew. Go, nurse yourself and leave it to me. If anything may be done, I can dolt. Stay, bid a messenger be ready. This evening I shall know whatever there Is to be known.'' 'I asked to see Don Andres de Fonsec»," she said in a low, quick voice. "You are not he, senor." "That is my name, to take or to leave, senor," and I looked at him in tarn. "Andres de Fonseca was buried today," I answered. ''I was his assistant in his business and am his heir. If I can serve you.in any way, I am at your disposal." " \ ou are young—very young,'' sho murmured confusedly, "and the matter is so terrible and urgent. How can I trust youf" "It is for you to judge, senora." She thought awhile, then drew off her cloak, displaying the robes of a nun. "I wish to ask her whither this man has gone. He is my enemy, and I would follow him as I have already followed him far. He has done worse by me and mine than by this poor girl even. Grant my request, father, that I may be able to work "Andres do Fonseca," he replied, bowing, ' a physician of this city, well known enough, especially among the fair. Well, Senor Diego, I take your name, for names are nothing, and at timos it is convenient to change them, which Is nobody's busl- "Tho duello has Its laws, senor," he said courteously. "It Is not usual to fight thuB unsecondtxl and in tho presence of a woman. If you believe that you have any grievance against me—though I know not of what you ravo or the name by which you call me—I will meet you where and when you will." And all tho while ho looked over his shoulder seeking some way of escape. "Then you will take It. Now I havo something more to say before we come to terms. I do not want you to play the part of ail ajiothecary's druilgo. You will figure before the world as my nephew, come from abroad to learn my trade. You will help me In It indeed, but that is not all your duty. Your part will bo to mix in the life of Seville anil to watch those whom I bid you watch, to drop a word here and a hint there, and in a hundred ways that I shall show you to draw grist to my mill—and to your own. You must be brilliant and witty or sod and learned, That night Fonseca sent for me again. "I have made inquiries," ho said. "I have even warned the officers of justice for the first time for many years, and they aro hunting I)o Garcia us bloodhounds hunt a sluve. But nothing can be heard of him. Ho has vanished and left no trace. Tonight I write to Cadiz, for he may have fled there down the river. Ono thing I havo discovered, however. Tho Senora Isabella was caught by the watch, and being •cognized as having escaped from a coiuent sho was handed over to tho executories of the holy office, that her case may be investigated, or, In other words, should her fault be proved, to death." my vengeance on him, and with mine the church's also." " 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord. "I will repay.' Yet it may be, son, that the Lord will choose you as the Instrument of his wrath. An opportunity shall be given you to speak with her. Now put on this dress"—and he handed mo a white Dominican hood and robe—"and follow me." [UONT1NUKD.] CHAPTER V "It is time to go, sweetheart. My father beckons uiu from the latlico. All is anished." It seemed that after my mother fled to England with my father IX) Garcia persecuted my grandmother and his aunt with lawsuits and by other means till at last she was reiWiced to beggary, In which condition the villain left her to die. So poor was sho indeed that sho was buried in a public grave. After that tho old woman, my informant, said she had heard that De Garcia had committed some crime and been forced to flee tho country. What tho rrime was sho could not remember, but it hail happened about 15 years ago. "Lis.cn," sho said. "I must do many a penance for this night's work, and very Within 12 days of the burial of my mother anil the telling of the story of his marriage to her by iny father, I was ready to start upon my search. As it chanced, a vessel was about to sail from Yarmouth to Cadiz. _£Dhe was named the Adventuress, oi -m) tons Duruen, ana carried wool ana other goods outward, proposing to return with a cargo of wine and yew staves for bows. In this vessel my father bought me a passage Moreover, he gave me £50 In gold, which was as much as 1 would risk upon my person, and obtained letters from the Yarmouth Arm of merchants to their agent* In Cadiz, in which they were advised to advance mo £uch s&ms as I might need up to a total of 160 English pounds, and further to assist me In any way that was possible. GOODBY, SWEETHEART. •'Lot us go then," I answered huskily and drew her behind tho trunk of the old beech. And there I caught her In my arms and kissed her again and yet again, nor was she ashamed to kiss me lDack. "You will meet me now," I answered. "Draw or I strike!'' Then he drew, and wo foil to It desperately enough till the Bpnrks flew indeed, and the rattle of steel upon steel rang down the quiet street. At first he had somewhat the better of me, for my hate made mo wild in my play, but soon I set tied to the work and grew cooler. Slowly I pressed him hack, and ever my play grew closer and bettor and his became wilder. Now I hat! touched him twice, once In the face, and I held him with his back against the wall o{ tho way that led down to the water gate, and it had como to this—» that he scarcely strove to thrust at me at all, but stood on his defense waiting till I should tire. Then, when victory was In my hand, disaster overtook me, for the Foman, who had been watching bewildered, saw that her faithless lover was in danger of death and straightway seized me ffom behind, at the same time sending up shriek after Shriek for help. I shook her from me quickly enough, but not before I)e Garcia, seeing his advantage, had dealt me a coward's thrust that took me in the right shoulder and half crippled me, so that In iny turn I must stand on my defense if I would keep my life In me. Meanwhile the shrieks had btwn hoard, and of a sudden the watch cajnu running round tho corner whistling for help. l)e Garcia saw them, and disengaging suddenly turned and ran (or tho water gate, the lady also vanishing, whither I do not know. After this I remember little of what happened, except that as we rode uwny 1 saw hor beloved face, wan anil wistful, watching me dcpurtlng out of her life. For 80 years that sod and beautiful face haunted 1110, anil It haunts me yet athwart life and death. "First," I said, "let me give this medicine to the abbess, for I will have no hand In its administering. Take it, mother, and when the time comes pour the contents of the vial into a cup of water. Then, having touched the mouth and tongue of the babe with the fluid, give it to the mother to drink, and be suro that she does drink It. Before the bricks are built up about them both will sleep sound, never to wake again." (is I wish; you must make tho most of your pcrspn and your talents, for these get far With my customers. Tq the hidalgo you must tulk of jirms, to the lady of tovo, but you must never commit yourself beyond redemption. Aud, alxjvo all, young mon"-%uid here his manner changed, and his face grew stern and almost fierce— "you must never violate my confidence or the confidence of my clients. On this [xiint I will bo quite open with you, and I pray you for your own sake to lielicvc whut I say, however much you may mistrust the rest. If you break fuit!) with me, you die; you die, not by my hand, but you die. That U my price; take it or leave it. Should you leave It and go hence and tell what you have heard this day, pvei) then misfortune may overtake you suddenly. Do you understand?" '•1 understand- For my own sako I will respect your confidence,'1 All this I learned when I had been about thrco months In Seville, and though it was of interest it did not advance me in my search. "Can she be rescued?" One tiling I hare forgotten. As we kiss ed and clung in our despair lDehliid the bole of tlu) great beech, Lily drew a ring fcu«fr Jmv--anger and passed it iofe my hand, saying, '' Look on this each morning when you wake and think of me:" It bad been her mother's, and today It still is set upon my witheredhand, gleaming in the winter sunlightTas I trace these words. Through long years of wild adventure, through all tho fline of after peac», la Jove and war, in the shine of the camplire, 111 the glare of the sacrificial flame, in the light pf Jonely stars llluinin lng the lonely wilderness, that ring has shone upon my hand, reminding me ulways of her who gavo It, and on this hand it shall go down Into the grave. It is n plain /circlet (4 f-hlt'k gold, somewhat worn now, a posy riflg, an.d OH Its inner eur face Is out this quafnjt pouplef: "Impossible. Had sho followed my counsel she would never have been taken." '"Can she be communicated with?" Some four o#flve nights afterward, aa I entered my employer's house, I met a young woman coming out of the doorway of the patio She was thickly veiled, and my notice was drawn to her by her tall and beautiful figure and because sho was weeping so violently that her body shook with her sobs. I was already well accustomed tq such sights, for many of those whq sought my master's counsel had good cause tq weep, and I passed her without remark. But when I was come into the room where he received his patients I mentioned that I had met such a person and asked if it was any one whom I knew. "No. Twenty years ago it might have been managed. Now the office is stricter and purer. Gold has no power there. Wo shall never see or hear of her again unless indeed it Is at tho hour of her death, when, should she choose to speak with me, the Indulgence may possibly be granted to her, though I doubt it. But It Is not likely that she will wish to do so. Should Blie succeed In hiding her disgrace, sho may escape, but it is not probable. Do not look so sad, nephew; religion must have its sacrifices. Perchance it is better for her to die thus tliun to live for many years dead In life. Sho can die but once. May her blood lie heavy on De Garclu's head!" "Amen!" I answered. "I will do It," murmured the abbess. "Having absolution, I will be bold and do It for love and mercy's sake!" "Your heart 1s soo soft, fcister. Justice is mercy," said the monk, with a sigh. "Alas, for the frailty of the flesh that wars against tho spirit I" "Your health, senor." Now, the ship Adventuress traa to sail m the 3d day of June. Already It was the 1st of that month, and that evening I must ride to Yarmouth, whither my baggage had gone already. Except one, my farewells were made, and yet that was the one I most wished to make. Since tlio day when vre had sworn our troth I had gained no sight of L.ily except onco at my mother's burial, and then we had not spoken. Now it soemed I hat I must go without any parting word, for lu-r father had sent me notice that if I eame near the hall his serving men had orders to thrust me from the door, and this was a shame that I would not risk. Yet It was hard that I must go upon so long a Journey, whence it well might chance I should not return, and bid her no goodby. In nur itfivt and per plcxity 1 spoke to my father, telling him how the matter stood and asking his help. ness except their owners'. I see that you are a stranger in this city—no need to look surprised, senor. One who Is familiar with a town ilixts not gaze and stare and ask the path of passersby, nor does a native of Seville walk on the sunny side of the street in summer. And now, If you will not think me impertinent, I will ask you what can be the business of sq healthy a young man with my rival yonder?" And he nodded toward the house of tho famous physician. She thought awhile, then threw off her clonk. Then I clothed myself in the ghastly looking dress, and they took lamps and motioned to mo to follow them. hardly have I won leave to come hither upon an errand of mercy. Now, I cannot go back empty handejl so I must trust you. But first swear L *Tie blessed Mother of God that you will not betray me." "I give you my word," 1 answered "If that is not enough, let us end this talk." "Do not be angry with me," she plead-? ed. "I hnve not left mv convent walls ttm many years, ana i am cnsrraugnt who grief. I seek a poison of the deadliest. I will pay well for it." [to BE CONTnrUKD.] Harry's Arithmetic. ,-Ah, nephew," said Fonseca, who always called mo thus by now, and indeed began to treat me with as much affection as though 1 were really of his blood, "a sad case, hut you do not know her, and she is no paying patient. A poor girl of noble birth who had religion and taken her vow*, when a gallant appears, meets her secretly in the convent garden, promises to marry her if she will fly with him, indeed does go through some mummery of marriage with her—so she says— and the rest of it. Now he has deserted her, and she is in trouble, and, what is more, should the priests catch her, likely to learn what it feels like fo die by inches in a convent watt- She came to mo for counsel and brought some silver ornaments as the fee. Here they are." Harry had just began to go to sohool and was veiy proud of what he learned. One day he thought he'd show his father how much he knew and asked him at dinner: 4 Young sir, I like you better than ever. Had you said that you would res[Dectit liecause It was a confidence, I should have mistrusted you, for doubtless you feel that secrets communicated so readily have no claim to be held sacred Nor have they, but when their violation involves the sac] and accidental eiui of the violator it is another matter Well, now, do you ao oeptf" "A man's business, like his name, lshte own affair, Honor," I answered, getting my host down In my mind as one of those who disgrace our art by plying openly for patients that they may capture their fees. Heart to heart, Though far apart. CHAPTER VIII. THOMAS BECOMES HICH. "Papa, how many chickens are there cm that dish?" A fitting motto for us Indeed, and one that has its meaning to this hour. Still I will tell yoq. I ant also a physician, though not yet fully nuallfiod, ppd I seek a place where I may help some doctor of repute In his daily practice, and thus gain experience and my living with It." For many months we heard no more of Do Garcia or of Isabella de Siguenza. Both had vanished, leaving no sign, and we searched for them in vain. As for me, I fell back Intoi my former way of life of assistant to Fonseca, posing before tho world, as his nephew. But it eame about that from the wight of my. duel with the murderer «iy waster's health declined steadily through the action of a wasting disease of the ilver which baffled all skill, so that within eight months of that time he lay almost bedridden and at the point of death- IIla mind Indeed remained quite clear, and on occasions he would even receive those who came to consult him, reclining on a chair and wrapped in his embroidered robe. But tho hand of death lay on him, and he knew that it was so. As the weeks went by he grew more and more attached to me till at length, had I been his son, he could not have treated me with greater affection, while my part I did what lay in my po,\ve* to lesson }ils sufferings, for he \yCWd let no other physician near h.&v ' I am not the tool of murderers," I answered. "For what purpose do you wish the poison?" That siune day of our farewell I rode with my father to Yarmouth. My brother Geoffrey did not eonjc with us, but we parted with kindly words, and of this 1 am giftd, for wo never saw each other again. "Two, my boy," said papa, thought you knew how to count" Now the watch was on and their leader came at mo to seise mo, holding a lantern in his hand, I struck it with the handle of tho sword, so that it fell upon the roadway, where It blazed up like a bonfire. Then 1 turned also and fled, fof I did not wish to be dragged befyre tho magistrates of the city a® and In my desire to escape I forgot that De Garcia wy escaping also. Away I wentj and three of the watch after me, but they were stout and scant of breath, and by the time that t had three furlongs I distanced them. halted to get wy breath and remembered that ] had lost Pe Garcia and did not know whep J should find him again. "So I went homeward, cursing my fortune and the woman who had clasped mo frppi behind just as [ was about to send the death thrust bom t, and also my lack of skill had delo fed that thrust so long. "Oh, I must tell you—yet how can If In our convent there dies tonight a woman young and fair—almost a girl indeed— who has broken the vows she took. She dies tonight with her babe—thus, O God, thus!—by being built alive into tho foundations of tho house she has disgraced. It Is tho judgment that has been passed upon her—judgment without forgiveness or reprieve. I am tho abbess of this convent— ask not Its name or mine—and I lave this sinner as though she were my daughter. I have obtained this much of mercy for her because of my faithful services to the church and by seoiet influence—that when I give her tlDo cup of water before the work is done I may mix poison with It and touch tho )ips of the babe with poison, so that their end is swift. I may do this and yet havo no sin upon my soul. I have TOY par don under seal. Help me, then., to bo an innocent murderess and to save this sinner from her last agonies on earth." "You'rewrong,"saidHarry. "Thera are three—that's one, that's two, and two and cue make three." '•I go hence," I paid, "to avenge ou» comftton loss and if need he to give my lifo for tho honor of our name. Aid ma in "Ah, is it sof Well, senor, then you will look in vain yonder," and again he nodded toward the physician's house. "Such he will take no appcct;t}(» without the foe bo large indeed. It is not tho custom (ft this city." "I accept." •'Good. Tonr baggage, I suppose, is at tho inn. I will send porters to discharge your score and bring it here. No need for you to go, nephew. Let us stop and drink !mother uiam, pf wfnp. f'ho sopjuD? ?row intimate tho (letter, nephew." It was thus that I first became acquainted w}fh fscnor Andres do Fonseca, my benefactor, the strangest man I have ever known. Doubtless any iierson reading this history would think that I, the narrator, was sowing a plentiful crop of troubles for myself in having to deal with him, setting him down as a roguo of the deepest, such as sometimes (of thplp pw|t wicked purposes deooy young men to crime and ruin. But It was not so, and this Is tho strangest part of the strange story. All that Andres do Fonseca told mo was true to the very letter. "Veiy well," said his father "your mother may have one for her dinner, I'll take the other, and you can have the third"—Syracuse Post this." Mary, my slstef, fffto after Lily Bozard was now the fairest maiilei, jjj the countryside, wept much at my going. There was but a year between us, and we loved each other dearly, for po such shadow of jealousy had fallen on oujr pffoption. I com forted her as well as I was able, and tell ing her all that bod passed between mi and Lily I prayed her to eland my friend and Lily's should It ever be in her powei to do so. Tills Mury promised to do re;vd ily enough, and though she did not give the reuson I could see that she thought it possible that she might be able to help us. As 1 have said, Lily had a brother, n young man of some promise, who at this tlruo was away at college, and he and m sister Mary had a strong fancy for each other that might or might not ripen into something closer, tio WM kissed and bade farewell with tears. "My nelghltor Bozard means bis daughter for your brother Geoffrey and not for you, Thomas," he answered, ' and a man may do what be wllU with his own. Still I will help you If I can. At the least, he cannot drive me from his door. Bid them bring horses, and we will ride to the hall." "Then I mn.-t M;olf 3 livelihood elsewhere or otherwise." "You took themf" Those Girls. "I did not say so. Now, senor, let as see what fop know of medicine, and, what Is more Important, of human nature, for of the first none of us can ever know much, but he who knows tho latter will be a leader of men—or of women—who lead the "Yes, I took them—I always take a fee— I at X gave her back their weight in gold. What Is more, I told her where she might hide from the priests till the hunt is dune with. What I did not Uke tQ te'l her Is that her Joyer \u the greatest villain who ever tmd tho streets of Seville. What was the good? She will see little more of him." And now I must tell h°w I met my cousin and my enemy, lie Garcia, for the second time, days after my meeting with the veiled lady it chanced that I was wandering toward midnight through a lonely part of the old city little frequented by pasiiersby. It was scarcely safe to be thus alone In 6uch a place and hour, but the business with which I had been charged by my master was one that must be carried out unattended; also I had no enemies whom I knew of and armed with the very sword that i had taken from pe liatvia in the lane at Dltchliigham, the that had slidn my mother, and which I bore in tho hope that it P'lght servo to avenge her. in tho use of this w»apon I hod grown pxpert CP9ugh by now. for even* momliia I took lessons In tho art of feuoe. My business being done, I was walking siowly Homeward, and as I went | fell to thinking of the strangeness of my present life, and of how far It differed from my boyhood In tho valley pf Waycney, and of many other things. And then I thought of Lily and wondered how her days pass i-d, and if my brother Goeffrey persecuted her to marry him, and whether or no she would resist his Importunities and her fa ther's. And so as I walked musing I came to a water gate that opened on to the Guadalquivir, and leaning upon the coping of a low wall I rested there idly to consider the beauty of the night. In truth, It was a lovely night, for across all theso years I remember it. Let those who have seen it say If they know any prospect more beautiful than the sight of the August moon shining on the broad waters of the Guadalquivir and the clustering habitations of tho ancient city. Within tho half of an hour wo were there, and my father asked for speech with thu master. Tho serving man looked at nie askance, remembering his orders; still he ushered us Into the justice room, where the squire sat drinking ale. men." "Good morrow to you, neighbor," Mid tho squire. "You arc welcome here, but you bring one with you who is not welcome, though he bo your son." And without more ado he put me many questions, each of them so shrewd and going po dircctly to the heart of the matter in hand that I piarveled at his sagacity. Some of these questions were medical, dealing chiefly with the aliments of women; others were general and dealt more with their characters. At length ho fin ished. By now I was at home and liethought me that 1 should do well to go to Fonseca, my master, and ask his help. On the mor row I went to my master's chamber, whore he lay al»cd, having been sudden weakness that was tbft beginning of the Illness which ypUoU in death. As I mixed a ;U«fk for him he noticed that my shoulder was hurt and asked me what had hap pened. This gave me my opportunity, which I was not slow to t«£«- •'Have you jwtience Glisten tQ a story," I said, "for | would seek your help?" "Ah," ho answered, "it U the old case; the physician capppt heal himself. Speak oa. jh-dUck,'- . ''I bring him for the last time, friend Bozard. Listen to his request, then grant or refuse it as you will, but If you refuse It it will not bind us closer. The lad rides tonight to take ship for Spain to seek that man who has murdered his mother. He goes of his own free will, because after the doing of the deed it was he who unwittingly suffered the murderer to escape, and it is well that he should go." I cannot down tho feelings with which I listened to this tale of horror, foi words could not carry them. I stood aghast aecklng an answer, and a dreadful thought entered my mind. Ho was a gentleman of great talent who had been rendered a little mad by misfortunes In his early life. As a physician I have never met his master. If ho has one In theso times, and as a man versed In tho world and more especially in the world of women I have known none to compare with him. He had traveled far and seen much, and he forgot nothing. In part ho was a quack, but his quackery always had a meaning lu It. He fleeced the foolish Indeed and evefl juggled with astronomy, making money out of their superstition, bat on the other hand he did many a good act without reward. Ho would make a rich lady pay 10 gold pesos for piu ui aer nait, put oftou he would nurse some poor girl through her trouble and ask no charge—yes, and find her honest employment after it. Ho who knew all the secrets of Seville never made money out of them by threat of exposure, as he said because It would not pay to do so, but really liecause, though he affected to bo a selfish knave, at bottom his heart was honest. At \ength when ho had grown very feeble he expressed a desire to see a notary. The man he named was sent for and. remained closeted with him for an hour or more, when he left for awhile to return with several (if clerks, who accompanied h.Un tq my master's room, from Whence I was excluded. Presently they And after that my father and 1 rode away. But whon wo had passed down Plrnhow street and mounted the little hill beyond Waingford Mills to the left of Bun gay town I halted my horse and looked back upon the pleasant valley of the Wav eney, where I was born, and my heart grew full to bursting. Ilad 1 known all that must befall mo before my eyes beheld that scene again, I think Indeed that it would have burst. But God, who in hu wisdom has laid many a burdop upon yie ljucks of pen, has saved them this, for had we foreknowledge of tKe future f tliink that, «rf our »wn wUi, )D«t f«r of M wey.llJ {lye td ken ft. So I cast one ' lbhg last'Took toward the distant mass of oaks that marked tbe spot where Lily lived and rode on. "You will do, senor," he Mid. "You are a young man of parts and promise, though, as was to bo expected from one of your years, you laek experience. There is stuff in you, wnCDr, and you have a heart, which is a pood thing, for the blunders of a man with a hoart of ton carry him farther than the cunning of the cynic; also you have a will and know how to direct It." •'Is this woman named Isabella do Slg uenza?" I asked.. "That name-was hers in the world," she answered, "though how you know it I cannot guess." all went away, bearing sojpo narchment* with them. Priscilla—I want to get a gown to match my complexion. Perdita—Why don't you get a hand painted one?—Brooklyn Life. "He is a young hound to run such a quarry to earth and In a strange country," said the squire. "Still I like his spirit and wish him well. What would he of mef" "Wo know many things in this house, mother. Say, now, can this Isabella be saved by money or by interest?" That evening Fonseca sent lor mo. I found him very weak, but cheerful and full of talk. I lxDwed and did my liest to hold back illjr md »VOrua li'Ulll bliOVV Ailg in my face. "It is impossible. Her sentence has been confirmed by the tribunal of mercy. She must dio and within two hours. Will you not givo mo tho poison?" "Leave to bid fariwell to your daughter. I know that his suit does not please you and cannot wonder at't, and for my aSrt ££?£ I think It too vaiiy Of hlhi to set nk rancy in the way of marriage. But if he would see the maid It can dq no harm, for such harm as there is has beep done already. Now for your answer." Then I sat down by tlif" l)cd and told Mm all, l1" ■D!' v Imck. "Come here, nephew," ho said. ''I have had a busy day. I have been busy all my life through, and it would not be well to grow Idle at the last. Do you know what I have been doing this day?" Philosophy In Being JUted. "So she jilted you," said the sympathetic friend "Still " ho wont on, ''all this would "ot cause mte to submit t6 ydn'tlhci offer ttiat I am about to make, for many a prettier fellow than yourself Is, after all, unlucky, or a fool at the bottom, or bad tempered and destined tq the dogs, as for aught I know you may bo also. But I take my chance of that because you suit me In another way. Perhaps you may scarcely know It yourself, but you have beauty, senor, beauty of a very rare and singular type, which half the ladies of Seville will praise when they come to know you." li all, keeping nothing Imck. yiPnbe? "I cannot give it unless I know its purpose, mother. This may bo a barren tale, and the medicine might bo used in such a fashion that I should (all beneath tho law. At one price only can I give it, and thai is that I Am thcro to 6ee it used." "Yes." On the following day I embarked on board »hp Adventuress, find wo sailed. Before I left, my father'b heart softened much toward me, for he remembered that I woe "1 will tell vou. I have been making my win—mcio is sometnmg co leave—not •o very much, but still something." I shook jny head. "She did, ghe said it was because of her philanthropic nature; that it waa better to make a great many men happy by being engaged to them than to make one miserable by marrying him."— Washington Star. "Did she give any reason?" Squire Bozard thought awhile, then said: JSnc thought awhile ana answerea: "it may be done, for as it chances the wording of my absolution will cover it. But you must come cowled as a priest, that those who carry out tho sentence may know nothing. Still' others will know, and I warn you that should you speak of tho matter you yourself will meet with misfortune. The church avenges itself on those who betray its secrets, senor." •'Do not talk of wills," I said, that you may live for many yours.'' "Itrusl 1 "The lad is a bravo lad, though he shall be no son-in-law of mine. He is going far and mayhap will return no more, and I do not wish that ho should think unkindly of me when I am dead. Go without, Thomas Wingiield, and stand under yonder beech. Lily shall join you there, and you may speak with her for the half of an hour—no more. See to it that you keep within sight of the window. Nay, no thanks—go before I change my mind." my mother's beat beloved and feared also lest we should meet no more. He laughed. "You must think bail I j of my case, nephew, when you think that I can be dooeived thna. I am about tc die, as you know well, and I do not fca. ■teath. My life has been prosperous, but not happy, for It was blighted In its spring —no lpatter how. The story is an ol(| one and not worth telling. Moreover, whichever way It had read, It had nil been one now in the hour of death. Nephew, listen. Except pertain sums that I have giv en (a be spent in charities—not in  jninci you—I have left you all I possess,Vl ''You have left it to met" I said, as(onlsheq."Yes, nephew, to you. Why not? 1 have no relations living, and I have learned to love you, I who thought that I could never again care for any man or woman or child. I am grateful to you, who have proved to me that my hoart is not dead. Take what I give you as a mark of my gratitude." Of my voyage to Cadiz, to which port I had learned that Pe Garcia'a ship was bound, (here }s little to be told. Wo met with contrary winds in the bay of Biscay and were driven into the harbor of Lisbon, where we refitted. But at last we came safely to Cadiz, having been 40 days at sea. For my own part, I found life with him both easy and happy, so far as mine could be quite happy. Soon I learned my role and played It well. It was given out that I was the nephew of the rich old physician Fonseca, whom he was training to take his place, and this, together with my own appearance and manners, insured me a weloome In the best houses of Seville. Here I took that share of our business which our master could not take, for now he never mixed among the fashion of the city. Money I was supplied with in abundance, so that I could rufflo it with the best, but soon it became known that I looked to business as well as to pleasure. A Useless Prescription, Underhill—Doctor, how can eleeplessness be cured? "I am much flattered," I said, "but might I ask what all these compliments may mean' To be brief, what Is your offer?"Doctor—Well, tho patient Bhould count slowly and in a meditative manner 600, and then— "To bo brief, then, it Is this: I am in need of an assistant who must possess all the qualities that I see In you, but most of all one which I can only guess you to possess—discretion. That assistant would not be ill paid. This house would bo at his disposal, and he would have opportunities of learning the world such as are given tq few. What say you?" "As one day its secrets will avenge themselves upon the church," I answered bitterly. "And now let me seek a fitting drug—one that is swift, yet not too swift, lest your hounds should see themselves twilled of their prey before all their deviltry is done. Here is something that will do the work," and I held up a viai that I drew from a case of such medicines. "Come, veil yourself, mother, and let us be gone upon this erratid of mercy.' " Underbill—That's all very nice, doctor, but baby can't count—Truth. So I went and waited under the beech with a beating heart., and presently Lily glided up to me, a more welcome sight to my eyes than any angel out of heaven. And indeed I doubt if an angel could have been more fair than she, or more good and gentle. CHAPTER VL ANDRES DE FON8ECA. Many travelers have told of the glories pf Seville, to which ancient Moorish city I j mrneyed with all speed. Foreseeing that jt might be necessary for me to stop some lime in Seville, and being desirous to escape notice and to be at the smallest expense possible, I bethought me that It would be well if I could And means of continuing my studies of medicine, and to this end I obtained certain introductions from the firm of merchants to whose aire I had been recommended address**! to doctors of medicine in Seville. These letters at my request were made out not in my own name, but In that of Diego d'Aila, for I did not wish it to be known that I was an Englishman. Nor Indeed was this likely, except my speech should betray me, for, as I have said, in appearance I was very Spanish, and the hindrance of the language was one that lessened every day, since having already learned it from my mother, and taking every opportunity to read and speak it, within six months I could talk Castilian, except for some slight accent, like a native of the land; also I have a gift for the acquiring of languages. When I was oome to Seville and had placed my baggage in an Inn, not one of the most frequented, I set out to deliver a letter of recommendation to a famous physician of the town whose name I have long forgotten. This physician had a flno house in the street of Las Palmas, a great avenue, planted with graceful trees, that has other little streets running into it. Down one of these I came from my inn, a quiet, narrow plaoe having housos with patios, or courtyards, on either side of it. As I walked down this street I noticed a man sitting in the shade on a stool In the doorway of his patio. He was small and withered, with keen black eyes and a wonderful air of wisdom, and he watched me as I went by. Now, as I leaned U|KDn the wall and looked, I saw a man pass up the steps beside me and go into the shadow of the street I took no note of him till presently I heard a murmur of distant voices, and turning my head I discovered that the man was In conversation with a woman whom ho had met at the head of the path that ran down to the water gate. Doubtless It was a lovers' meeting, and since such sights are of interest to all, and more especially to the young, I watched the pair. Soon I learned that there was little of tenderness in this tryst, at least on the part of the gallant, who drew continually lutckward toward me as though he would seek tho boat by which doubtless he had come, and I marveled at this, for the moonlight shone upon the woman's face, and even at that distance I could see that It was very fair. Tho man's face I could not see, however, since his back was toward me for the most part. Moreover, he wore a large sombrero that shaded it. Now they came nearer to me, the man always drawing backward and the woman always following till at length they were within earshot. The woman was pleading with the man. "Did Miss Flyppe receive many proposals while at the seashore?" "1 am here, Juan tfc Garcia, to. avenge a murdered woman." "Many? Why, receiving proposals got to be a habit with her. She got so she oouldn'teven hear a soda water bottle pop without exclaiming, 'This is so sudden I* "—-Indianapolis Journal. "Oh, Thomas," She whispered when I had greeted her, "Is this true that you sail over sea to seek the Spaniard?" "I say this, senor, that I should wish to know more of tho business in which I am expected to assist. Your offers sound too liberal, and I fear that I must earn your bounty by tho doing of work that honest men might shrink from." Often and often during some gay ball or carnival a lady would glide up to me and ask beneath her breath if Don Andres de Fonaeca would consent to see her privately on a matter of some Importance, and 1 would fix an hour then and thero. Had It not been for me, such patients would have been lost to us, since, for the most part, their timidity had kept them away. he (aid at length. "For the most part, youth falls through rashness, but you err by overcaution. By overcaution In your fence you lost your chanco lost night, and ■n by overcau tion In hiding this tale from me you have lost a far greater opportunity. What, have you not seen me give counsel In many such matters, and have you ever known me to betray tho confidence even of the veriest stranger? Why, then, did you fear for yours?" Who obeyed, and presently we left the house and walked swiftly through the crowded streets till we came to the ancient part of the city along the river's edge. Here the woman led me to a wharf when1 a lKDat was in waiting for her. We entered it and were rowed for a mile or more up the, stream till the boat halted at a landing plaoo beneath a high wall. Leaving it, wo -came to. a door in the wall on which my companion knocked thrice. Presently a shutter in the woodwork wac drawn, and a white face peeped through the grnt4ng and spoko. My companion answered in a low voice, and after some delay the door was opened, and I found myself in a large walled garden planted with orange trees. Then the abbess spoke to me. "I sail to seek the Spaniard and to find him and to kill him when he is found. It was to come to you, Lily, that I lot him go. Now I must let you go to come to him. Nay, do not weep. • I have sworn to do it, and wore I to break my oath I should be dishonored." "A fair argument, but, as it happens, not quito a correct one. Listen. You have boon told that yonder physician, to whose house you went but pow, and those"— hero he repeated four or five names—''are the greatest of their tribe in Seville. It is not so. 1 am tho greatest and the riohest, and I do more business than any two at them. Do you know what my earnings have been this day alone? I will tell you— Just over 26 gold pesos (about £08) more than all tho rest of the profession have taken together, I will wager. You want to know how I earn so much; you want to know also why, if I have earned so much, I am not content to rest from my labors. Good; I will tell you. I earn it by ministering to tho vanities of women and sheltering them from the results of their own folly. Has a lady a sore heart, she oomes to me for comfort and advioe. Has she pimples on her face, she flies to me to cure them. Has she a secret love affair, it is I who hide her indiscretion. I consult the future for her, I help her to atone the past, I doctor her for Imaginary ailments, and often enough I cure her of real ones. Half tho secrets of Seville are in my hands. Did I choose to speak I could set a score of noble houses to broil and bloodshed. But I do not speak. I am paid to keep silent, and when I am not paid still I keep silent for my credit's sake. Hundreds of women think me their savior; I know them for my dupes. But, mark you, I do not push this game too far. A love philter —of colored wuter—I may give at a price, but not a poisoned rose. These they must seek elsewhere. For tho rest, in my way I am honest. I take the world as it comes, that is all, and us women will be fools ) profit by their folly and have grown rich upon it. Now I began to stammer my thanks, but he stopped me. "The Slim that you will lnhorlt, nephew, amounts in all to about 6,00Q gold pesPs, or perhaps 12,000 of your English pounds, enough for a youhg man to begin life on, even with a y/lte. Indeed there In England It may well be held a great fortune, and I think that your betrothed's father will make  objection to you as a son-in-law; also thero Is this house and all that it contains. The library and the silver aro valuable, and you wU\ dp well to keep them. And ngyv one more. If your conscienoe will let you, abandon tho pursuit of De (Garcia. Take your fortune and go with it to England, wed that maid whom you desire, and follow after happiness In whatever way seems best to you. Who. are you that you should mete out vengeance on this knave Dc Garcia? Let him be, and Jie will avenge himself upon himself. Otherwise you may undergo much toil and danger and In the end lose love and life and fortune at a blow." A Wise Arrangement. Boy—It's awful lucky we have onr examinations for promotion now instead of in the fall, when school opens. In the same fashion when the festival was ended, and I prepared to wend homeward, now and again a gallant would slip his arm in mine and ask my master's help In some affair of love or honor or even of the purse. Then I would lead him straight to the old Moorish house where Don Andres sat writing in his velvet robe like some spider In his web, for the most of our business was done at night, and straightway the matter would be attended to, to my master's profit and the satisfaction of all.. By degrees it became known that, though I was so young, yet I had discretion, and that nothing which went In at my ears came out of my lips; that I neither brawled nor drank nor gambled to any length, and that, though I was friendly with many fair ladies, there were none who were entitled to know my secrets; also it became known that I had some skill in my art of healing, and it was said among the ladies of Seville that thero lived no man In that city so deft at clearing-the skin of blemishes or changing the color of the hair as old Fonsoca's nephew, and as any one may know this reputation alone was worth a fortune. Thus It came about that I was more and more consulted on my own account. In short, things went so vvell w|th us that In the first six monthq of my practice I added by one-third to tho receipts of my master's practice, large as they had lteen before, besides lightening his labors not a little. Father—Why? '"And because of this oath of yours I must be widowC*l, Thomas, before I am a wife? You go, and I sliall never see you more." ''I do not know,1' I answered, ''but I thought that first I would search for myself."Boy—'Cause when school begins in the fall we none of us ever know anything,—Good News. "Who can say, my sweet? My father went over sens and came hack safe, having passed through many perils." . "frldai gocth before a fall, nephew. Now listen. Had 1 known this history a month ago, by now De Garcia had perished miserably, and not by your hands, but by that of the law. I have been acquainted with the n tan from his childhood and know enough to hang him twice over did | choose to speak. More, I knew your boy, and now I see that it was (he likeness In your face to hers that haunted me, for from the first It was familiar. It was I also who bribod the keepers of the holy offloe to let your father loose, though, as It chancod, I never saw him, and arranged his flight. Since then I have had De Garcia through my hands some four or Ave times, now under this pame and now under that. Once even be oame to me as a client, but the villainy that ho would have worked was too black for me to touch. This man is tho wlckedwhom I have known in Seville, and that |s saying much; also ho Is the oleverpst uid the moBt revengeful. Ho lives by yioe for vice, and there aro many deaths ppon his hands. But he has never prospered In his evlldolng, and today he is but an adventurer without a name, who lives by blackmail and by ruining women that he may rob them at his leisure. Give me those books from the 6trong box yonder, and I will toll you of this Do Garcia." Youthful Precocity. Willie—Grandma must be dreadfully, dreadfully wioked, isn't she? Mamma—Why, what do you mean? Of course she isn't 1 "Yes, he came Iwick and—not alone. You are young, Thomas, and in far countries there are ladies groat and fair, and how shall I hold my own in your heart against them, I lielng so far away?" "I have led you to our house," sho said. "If you know where you are and what its name may be, for onr own sake, I pray you, forget it when you leave these doors." Willie—Well, she told me her own •elf that the good die young.—Chicago Inter'Ooeau. "I swear to you, Lily"  "Nay, Thomas, swear no oaths lest you should add to your sins by breaking them. Yet, love, forget me not who shall forget "Surely you will not desert me," sne said, "after marrying me and all that you have 6wom; you will not have the heart to desert me. I abandoned everything for you. I am i,n great danger. I"—and here, her voice fell so that I could not catch her words. I made no answer, but looked round in the dim and dewy garden. On the Deep Blue Sea. Here it was doubtless that Do Garcia had met this unfortunate who must die this night. A walk of a hundred pace? brought us to another door in the wall oi a long, low building of Moorish style. Here tho knocking and the questioning were at more length. Then the door was opened, and I found myself in a passage, ill lighted, long and narrow, in the depths of which I could sge the figures of nuns flitting to and fro like bats In a tomb. The abbess walked down the pas sage till she came to a door on the right, which she ojK'ned, It led into a cell, and here she left me in the dark. For 10 minutes or more I staid there, a prey to thoughts that I had rather forget. At length the door opened again, and she camo in, followed by a tall priest whose face I could not see. for he was dressed in the white ruV-e and hood of the Dominicans, that left fiC(tnlng visible except his eyes. "greeting, jay son," ho said when he had scanned ine fnj awhile. "'The mother abbess has told me of your errand. You are full young for such a task." Jack Smartfellow—I wonder how long it would take for the ocean to grow fresh. Then he spoko: "Fairest, now, as always, I adore you. But we must part awhile. You owe me much, Isabella. I have rescued you from the grave; I have taught you what It is to live and love. Doubtless with your advantages and charms you will profit by tho lesson. Money I cannot give yon, for I have none to spare, but I have endowed you with experience that is more valuable by far. This is our farewell for awhile, and I am broken hearted. Yet— ''But I have sworn to kill him," I answered, "and how pan I break so solemi\ an path? How could I sit at home In peaoj beneath (he b.urdcn of such shame?" Miss Uptodate( bored by his presence) —Would depend entirely upon how long you were crossing it, I think, sir.—Boston Courier. *'I dp not know. It Is not tor me to fudge. You must do as you wish, but n the doing pf It It may happen that you fall Into greater shames than this. You have fought the man, and he has escaped you. Let him go if you are wise. }!ow bend down and kiss me and bid me farewell. I do not desire that you should see die die, and my death Is near. I cannot tell If we shall meet again when in your turn you have laid as I lie now, or if wo shape our pourso for different stars. If 6o, farewell forever." Supplanted. Castleton—I saw your fiancee while at the seashore. Clnbberly—Did she Bay anything about my coming down? Now, the house of the famous physician whom I sought was so placed that the man sitting at this doorway could command it with his eyes and take note of all who went In and came out. When I had found the house, I returned again Into the quiet street and walked to and fro there for awhile, thinking of what tale I should tell to the physician, and all the time tho little man watched me with his keen eyes. At last I had made up my story and went to the house, only to find that the physician was from home. Having Inquired when I might find him, I left and once more took to the narrow street, walking slowly till I came to where the little man sat. As | passed him his broad hat, with which he was fanning himself, slipped to the ground before my feet. I stooped down, lifted It from the pavement and restored It to him. Castleton—Yea. She said when you oame to bring mo with you—New York Herald. " 'Neath fairer skies Bhlue oilier eyes. It was a strange life, and of the things that I saw and learned, could they be written, I might make a tale indeed, but they have no part In this history, for it was as though the smiles and silence with which men and women hide their thoughts were done away, and their hearts spoke to us in the accents of truth. Now some fair young maid or wife would come to lis with confessions of wickedness that would be thought impossible did not lira story prove Itself—the secret murder jM-iolionce of a spouse, or a lover, or a rival; now pome aged dame who would win a husband in his teens; now some wealthy low born roan or woman who desired to buy an al liance with one lac king money, but of no ble blood. Such I did not care to help Indeed, but to the lovesick or the love deluded I listened with a ready ear, for I had a fellow leeiing with tnejn. lnueen 00 deep and earnest wC»s my sympathy that more than once I found the unhappy fair ready to transfer their affections to uiy unworthy self, arid in fact once thing!! came about so that, had I willed it, I could have married one of the loveliest and wealthiest noble ladies of Seville. and I"—and again he spoke so low that I could not catch his words. Mistook the Article. As he talked on all my body began to tremble. The scene was moving Indeed, but It was not that which stirred me so deeply—it was tho man's volco and bearing that reminded mo—no, it could scarcely be! I did as he bade mo, bringing the hoavy parchment volumes, each bound in vellum and written In cipher. "Hello!" exclaimed the telegraph editor. "Here's a first class article from Kentucky." Then I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, and as I did so I wept, fo» not till this hour did I learn JiQWf truly J bad come to love him, so truly that It seemed to me as though my father laythere tfylng '*\Veep pot," he Bald,."for all our life but a patting. Once I had a son like you, and ours was tho bitterest of farewells. Now I go to seek for him again who could not como back to me, so weep not because I die. Goodby, Thomas Wingfield! May God prosper and protect D"ou( Now gol' "Yes, I have grown rich, and yet I cannot stop. I love the money that is power, but more than all I love the way of life. Talk of romances and adventure! What romance or adventure Is half so wonderful as those that come daily to my noticet And I play a part in every one of them, and none the less a leading part because | do not shout and strut upon the boards." ''These are my records," he 6aId, ''though nono can read them except my•elf. Now for tho index. Ah, here It Is! Give mo yolume 8 and open It at page 201." "You don't say eo!" responded the ateentminded city editor. "Who's got ft corkscrew?"—Washington Star. •'Were I old I should not lovo it bottor, father. You know the case. I an\ asked to provido ft deadly drug for a certain merciful purpose. 1 have provided that drug, but I must lie there to boo that it is put to proper use." "Oh, you will not be so cruel," Raid the lady, "to lcavu me, your wife, thus alone and in such sore trouble and danger! Take me with you, Juan, I lieseech youl" And she caught him by tho arm and olung to I obeyed, laying tho book on the bed bofore him, aDd he began to read tho crabbod marks as easily as though they were, good black letter. Had the Same Want. "Oh, Tfu/mas," she whimpered. Old Bonder—There's only one thing in this world that I want and can't get, and that's time, sir—timet you never. Perhaps—oh, i£ wrings my heart to say It—this is our last meeting on the earth. If so, then wo must hope to meet in heaven. At the least, lie sure of this—that while I live I will be true to you, and, father or no father, I will die before I break my troth. I am young to speak so largely, but It shall he as I say. Oh, this parting is more cruel than death 1 Would that we wero asleep and forgotten among men! Yet it is best that you should go, for If you staid we be to each other while my father lives' And may he live long!" "If all this is so, why do you seek the help of an unknown Jad, a stranger of whom you know nothing?" 1 asked bluntlyhim. "Do Garcia—Juap. Height, appcaranoe, family, false names, and 60 on. This |i it—history. Now listen." He shook her from him somewhat rough ly, and as he did so his wldo hat fell to the ground so that the moonlight shono upon Ids face, liy heaven, it was ho—Juan do Garcia and no other! I could not be mistaken. There was the deeply carved, cruel faoe, tho high forehead with the scar on it, tho thin, sneering mouth, the poaked beard and curling hair. Chance had given him into my hand, and I would kill him, or he should kill mo. "You aro very cautious, my son. The Church Is no murderess. This woman must die because her sin is flagrant, and of late such wickedness has become common. Therefore after much thought opd prayer and many eeorchlngs to Cud a means of mercy sho is condemned to death by those whose names me too high tw be sicken. I, alas, am hero to see tho sentence carried out with a certain mitigation which has been allowed by the mercy of her chief judge. It seems that your pre# ence is needful to this act of love; therefore I suffer it. Tho mother abbess lias warned you that evil dog* the feetof those who reveal the secrets of the church. For your own *iko I pray you to lay that warning to heart." Charlie Hardop—Why, I had no idea your creditors were pushing you so hard. —Brooklyn Life. Then camo Rome two pages of closely written matter, expressed In secrot signs that Fonseca translated as ho read. It was brief enough, but such a record as it contained I have never heard before nor since. Hero, set out against this one man's name, was well nigh every wickedness of which a human being could be capable, carried through by film to gratify his appetites and rovengeful hate and to provide himself with gold. "A thousand thanks, young sir," he said In a full and gentle voice. "You are courteous for a foreigner." "Truly, you lock experience," the old man answered, with u laugh. "Do you, then, supiDosc that I should choose one who was not a strunger—one who might have ties witnin tins city witn wmcn x was unacquainted? And as for knowing nothing of you, young man, do you think that I have followed this strange trade of mine for 40 years without learning to judge at sight' Perhaps { know you better than you"know yourself. By the way, tho fact that you an- deeply enamored of that maid whom you have left In England is a recommendation to me, for whatever follies you may commit you will scarcely embarrass me and yourself by suffering your affections to be seriously entangled. Ah, have I astonished you!"' So I wwnt weeping, and that viight, before tho dawn, all was over. Studio Talk. —  •'How do you know me to bo a foreigner, sen or f" J asked, surprised out of my caution.I burled Andres do Fonseca, but with qo pomp, (or he had said that he wished tW little money as possible siient upon his dead body, and returned to the house to meet the notaries. Thon tho seals were broken and the parchments read, and | was put in full possession o{ the dead man's wealth, and having deducted such sums as wero payable for dues, legacies and fees the notaries left mo, bowing dumbly, for was I not rich? Yes,.I was rich. Wealth had come to mo without effort, and I had reason to desire It, yet this was the saddest night that I had potted sinco I set foot in Spain, fof «ny mind wap filled with doubts und 6orrow, and, moreover, my loneliness got a hold of me. But sad !V« U might be It was destined to teem yet more sorrowful before the morp* Ing, for as I sat making a proteose fj eat, a servant came to Wing that a woman waited In the outer room who had asked to see his )atu piaster. Guessing that this was 6ome client who had not heard of Fonseca's death, I was about to order that she should be dismissed, then bethought mo that I might bo of service "If I had not guessed it before, I should know It now," be answered, smiling gravely. "Your Castlllan tells its own tale." ''Sleep and forgetfulness will come soon enough, Lily. None must await them for Very long. Meanwhile we have our lives to Jive. Let us pray that we may live them each other. I go to seek fortune as well as foes, and I will win it for your sake that we may marry." I took three paces and 6tood before hltp, drawing my sword as I came. I bowed and was about to pass op whep be addressed me again. "What, my dove, haw you a bully at handf" he said, stepping back astonished. "Your business, senor? Are you hero to champion beauty in distress?" In that black list wero two murders— one of a rival by tho knife and one of a mistress by poison. And there wero other things evon worse, too shameful indeed to be written. "What is your hurry, young sir? Step In and take a cup of wine with me. It is good." But I would none of It who thought of ray English Lily by day and night. She shook her head sadly. "It were too piuch happiness, Thomas. Men and wom- DU may seldom wed tlieie true loves, or If they do It Is but to lose them. At tho least, ?ve love, and let us be thankful that we have learned what loye can be, for having Joved here perchance at the worst we may jove otherwhere wheu there are none to say us nay." . I was about to say him nay when It came Into my mind that I had nothing to dq, and that' perhaps I might loarn something from his gossip.' "The day Is hot, senor, and I accept." He spoke no more, but rising led me Into a courtyard paved with marble, In the penier of which jfras a basin of water, having vines trained around It. Here were chalra tmd a little table placed In tho shade of the vines. When he hod closed the door of the patio and we were seated, he rang a silver bell that stood upon the table, and a girl, young and fair, appeared from the CHAPTER VII "I am here, Juan do Garcia, to avenges murdered woman. Do you rememlier a oertain river bank away In whois you chanced to piept lady you had knowp find to leavo her dead f Or, if you have forgotten, iDerhaps at least you will remomber this, which I carry that It may kill you." And I flashed the sword that had been hla before his eyes. "Doubtless there Is more p&t has not como lDeneath my notlD*^" said Fonseca coolly, "but thesiMlTfngs I know for truth, and one of the murders could be proved against him wore he captured. Stay, gl/e\ me ink. I must add to the record."  "I am no babbler, father, so tho caution Is not needed. One word more. This visit should be well feed; tho medicine is costly."THE SECOND MEETING "How do you knowf" I began, then ceased. It may be thought that whilo I was employed thus I had forgotten tho object of my coming to Spain—namely, to avenge my mother's rpurdef on the person of Juan de Garcia. But this wits not so. So toon as 1 was settled In the house of An dree de Fonseca I set myself to mako Inquiries as to De Garcla's whereabouts with all possible diligence, but without result. Indeed when I came to consider tho matter coolly it seemed that I had but a slender chance of finding him In this city. H? ' Fear net, physician," tho monk an•wered, with a note of scorn in his volco. "Name your sum; it shall bo paid to you." "I ask no money, father. Indeed I would pay much to be far away tonight. I ask only that I may be allowed to speak With tills girl before she dies." '•How do I knowf Why, easily enough. Thoso Iwots you wear were made In England. I have seen many such when traveled therp. Your ucceu£ also, though faint, is English, and twice you have spoken English words when your Postilion failed you. Then for the Is not that a betrothal ring upon your hand' And when 1 spoke to you of the ladles of this country And he wrote In his "Hu May, 1617, tho said Do safled to England on a trading vpyiage.'and there In the parish of pitchingfckm, In tho county of Norfolk, ho murdered Luisa Wingfield, spoken of above as Luisa do his cousin, to whom ho \vaa opco betrothed. In Seutembcr of the some vear or orevlously. "Mother of Godl It Is the Epglish boy who"—and he stopped. Stump—I've just come from the academy. Smear has sold his head. Dryer—What did he get for it? Stump—Two fifty. Then we talked on awhile, babbling broken words of love and hope and sorrow, as young folks so placed are wont to do, till at length Lily looked up with a sad, fweet smile and said: ''It Is Thomas Wlngflplfl, wbp, beat and bound you, and who pow purposes to finish what he began yonder a* ho was sworn. l,W hat! lie said, starting. "Surely you are net that wicked man? If so, 3-011 are bold indeed to risk the sharinsr of her fate." Dryer—All it's worth. There's nothing in it—Scribner's Magazine. «