540 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
ITtearjr fflisrfHamj, 
THE SCANDALOUS LETTER. 
[Complete in Ten Chapters.] 
CHAPTER IV. 
It was with difficulty Miss Elizabeth retrained 
from saying, “ I told you so," to her nephew next 
morning. Robert had come home early on Sunday 
evening, had gone straight to his room, and had 
looked himself In. Miss Yorke had heard him 
pacing restlessly backwards and forwards lato into 
the night, when all the household was fast asleep; 
and, If she could have known the jealous doubt 
and dread that were racking him all through those 
wakeful hours, her own slumbers would have 
been the sweeter. A start—a change of color—a 
trembling hand upon his arm—these were what 
haunted Miss Carew’s lover all night, 
“ While sleep beheld him from afar awake.” 
These were the thorns that pricked his restless 
pillow. 
What did OUve’s agitation—her sudden uncalled- 
for agitation—mean ? A nd had It—could It have— 
any connection with that group of men, one of 
whom seemed to have been traveling or about to 
travel ? She had been talking quietly enough a 
moment before they saw these men; she had been 
smiling at him; and then—. It was useless for 
the Doctor to tell himself over and over again that 
he was wronging Olive cruelly by such thoughts— 
that she had of her own accord and tor the first, 
time klsssed him when they parted, as though she 
wished to assure him that she had done him no 
wrong. He told himself this, but—how cold the 
little, hand was that he had touched: How pale 
her lips wero as she held them up to him ! And 
that man, that tail man in gray clothes who had 
seemed to follow them! Big drops started on the 
Doctor’s lorehead as once again Olive’s half-des¬ 
perate admission, “1 love somebody else—some¬ 
body who can never be anything to me,” came 
back to him, and he remembered tbat respect, 
friendship, esteem was ail he had a right to exp3Ct 
from Miss Carew. M ould she tell lilm frankly in 
the morning the reason of her emotion—he could 
forgive a great deal If she would only be candid 
and trust in him—or would she let this horrible 
secret He like a mist between their eyes, so that 
they could never meet again clear and unembar¬ 
rassed as before ? 
“ i have been loo happy," Robert Turke groaned 
In the midst of his self-torment. “1 felt It last 
night as we walked across the fields together. 
There was something lu her face that told me so; 
and now some trouble is to fall upon us, and 
those bright, peaceful days are over. Well. 11 she 
will only let me love her still'" He fell asleep at 
last, as day was breaking gray and cool and tbe 
birds began to wake. 
Not far away Gertrude was dreaming of him lu 
her warm white bed, where pernaps she too had 
lain and tossed and ached for him as he grieved 
now for the pale girl who had bewitched him. 
Gertrude’s roses were blooming however at break¬ 
fast the next morning; but Dr. Yorke came down 
languid, moody, complaining irritably, when 
questioned of headache—he who had never had a 
headache In Ms life, his aunt remembered. 
Miss Elizabeth poured out a large cup of tea for 
the Doctor, and supplied him with the crisp, golden 
dry toast which be loved, and bade Gertrude air 
the newspaper for her cousin: but the thought In 
her heart as she ministered to his wants was that 
he had quarreled with Olive Carew, that It was 
but right he should suffer for his folly, aud that 
alter all it was never too late to mend. This 
thought Imparted quite a briskness and gayety to 
Miss Yorke’s manner during the morning, and she 
kissed her niece more than once so affectionately 
that Gertrude was puzzled, and began to Indulge 
In a little uneasy hope—she could not help It 
though she tried—that something was wrong 
about Miss Carew, and that perhaps the actress 
would go away and leave them all to the happy 
life they had led before she came to disturb it. 
Neither aunt nor niece sail one word of what 
was in their minds; and when Miss Elizabeth 
came Into the drawing-room, where Gertrude was 
practicing her pieces, and said that she had a little 
business to attend to, and would probably not be 
home to luncheon, they both agreed silently to 
believe that this business would be confined to the 
neighboring tradesmen, and would hot Include a 
call on Miss Carew In the hope of obtaining some 
clue to the Doctor’s low spirits. 
The sun streamed into the print old drawing- 
roam ; Gertrude’s nimble fingers plied her needle 
busily, while Miss Yorke wended her way to 
Olive's lodgings, a pleasurable anticipation of 
trouble lu that quarter buoying her up and quick¬ 
ening her pace. The early freshness of morning 
was on the street^ still. Rooks were sailing In the 
blue air across the Ivy-grown tuiret of an old 
church; the lilac bushes in a square close by were 
In bloom, and scented the light wind as It blew ; 
bunches of spring flowers were displayed In the 
shops; the flags shone white In the stfcishtne, and 
some young ladles who were out wore pretty, 
light-colored dresses, that made them look like 
flowers, too. Children were running and dogs 
harking Joyously In the square as Miss Yorke. went 
by, but she saw nothing-not even the new straw 
bonnets In the milliner’s Window. What had Rob¬ 
ert seen or heard to make him so unhappy ? That 
was what she was pondering, with brows knit, and 
downcast eyes. If that woman had but revealed 
herself to him In her t me character now, before It 
was too late! With me hope before her of getting 
rid of the actress. Miss Elizabeth felt her bit ter 
dislike for Olive redouble, and remembered that 
from the first she hud distrusted her pale, lacka¬ 
daisical face aud affected ways. And now perhaps 
things would return to their old footing. Mias 
Yorke’s will would still be law in George street. 
There would be no talk of giving Up the sliver and 
linen and keys, her seat at the head of the table, 
her authority over the tradespeople and servants, 
to a girl out of a play-house, whose only thought 
was a sickly boy and his perpetual whims and 
fancies. And, if Robert married Gertrudo, who 
looked up to her aunt with such affectionate re¬ 
spect, how different things would be I 
Miss Yorke. trudging along sturdily, was so busy 
with these agreeable reflections that she would 
have passed her nephew, who came towards her 
just then, IT he had not stopped and spoken to her. 
“ You are going to see Olive, I suppose?” he said 
In a tired kind of voice. “ 1 will spare you a use¬ 
less walk. She is out." 
“ You have Just called ?’•’ 
“ Yes." 
“ Robert’’—Miss Yorke laid her hand on his arm 
Impressively—“there Is something wrong 1 Now 
don’t: deny It—I can see it In your face.” 
“ Something wrong ? What-—because ulive has 
gone to rehearsal ? Absurd!” 
“ But she did not tell you last night that she 
would bs out,” Miss Elizabeth peislsted, “or why 
should you call at this hour?” 
“ Because Olive was not very well last night," 
said the Doctor, coldly, changing color, “ and I 
wished to inquire after her-that is all. And now 
I must be going- I am tremendously busy to-day.” 
lie was gone. Miss Yorke turned and looked 
after him, with a kind of triumph In her face, 
though she was vexed too. 
“It Is a quarrel,” she thought, “and a serious 
one. What oau It have been about ? Well, Miss 
Carew may be out or she may be In, but I am de¬ 
termined to sec her, It I wait all day." 
And so she turned down the sunny street, where 
trees grew behind the old red-tiled houses, and 
stopped at Mrs. Allen’s Iron gate. Both gate and 
door stood wide-open. A child's toy lay on the 
grass-plot, and In a pair of toddling legs trotting 
down the street towards an organ that was grind¬ 
ing an Offenbachlan measure, and lu Mrs. Allen's 
cap-strings flying lu pursuit. Miss Yorke saw the 
reason of the unguarded state of the house. 'She 
was equal to the occasion. 
“ There Is no one to tell me whether Miss Carew 
is In or out,” she decided boldly. "I will go up¬ 
stairs and wait." 
Miss Yorke was on the little landing above by 
the tame baby Allen was brought home struggling 
and roaring lustily; and. when the shutting ot a 
door in the back regions deadened those sounds, 
the house was so still that she could hear the ialnt 
ticking of the clock on olive’s mantelpiece. After 
a ceremonious knock to which she received no an¬ 
swer, Miss Yorke opened the actress’s door and 
walked m. A faint fragrance of violets was in the 
air. a while curtain moved slowly In the breeze at 
the open window, the usual litter of papers aud 
books was on the table, a hair-covered blue-satin 
boot, with the needle still sticking Di it, lay on the 
window-ledge by Olive's chair. 
Miss Yorke looked round her grimly'. The smell 
of flowers In the room seemed like an affront to 
her. It was an Immoral sort of thing, she con¬ 
sidered, and savored of trashy novels and lflgli- 
liown airs. The cool April breeze had a rheumatic 
tendency, so the window was closed without ee«- 
mony, Miss Y orke eyeing fixe little boot the while, 
with a contemptuous “ Humph!” and charitably 
deciding that It had been left there for effect. 
Robert made such a ridiculous fuss about the 
smallness of Ills sweetheart’s foot. 
“ if matches his brain nicely,” she said to herself 
wittily; and then—the opportunity was too tempt¬ 
ing to be resisted—she began to make a tour of 
the little room, and to examine the countless little 
knick-knacks with which It was fliled, handling 
them as gingerly as If she dreaded the infection of 
Bohcmlanlsm from their mere touch. 
A large book of photographs lay open on the 
piano. Miss Y'orke adjusted her gold eye-glasses 
and turned the pages, with a sileut protest against 
their contents In every line of her face. Olive 
Carew In every Imaginable dress and attitude, 
each one prettier aud more graceful than the last 
—that was what the big bool: the Doctor’s gift- 
amounted to: Olive In a coquettish Watteau dress, 
with mittens and powdered hair, and an arch 
smile In her beautiful eyes; Olive crazy hi white 
drapery and long, densely-falling hair, offering 
the beholder “pansies for thoughts,” with a piteous 
air of entreaty; Olive as a saint with holy uplifted 
gaze aud folded hands; Olive in a rldlng-hablt; 
Olive in a yachting costume; Olive as a nun ; 
Olive as a boy, as a queen, as a gipsy, In pic¬ 
turesque rags, In a ball-dress, in her old black 
gown. 
With an impatient exclamation, Miss Yorke 
shut up the book and walked away. She had 
never seen MISS Carew on the stage, Gertrude’s 
mourning not allowing her to appear at a theater 
just yet, and she asked herself scornfully If this 
was what took men’s fancy nowadays, and If they 
supposed all these smiles and attitudes and bare 
arms and shoulders would look well In a drawing¬ 
room, or would help a wire to older a good dinner 
and look after the children. How could Robert 
ever take this player-woman down to the old home 
in Lincolnshire, and what would folks there say to 
her big eyes and her trailing gowns and die-away 
aim? once more a pang ol bitter, unavailing' 
hatred of OUve shot through Elizabeth Y'orke’s 
heart as she sat down at the table and watted 
doggedly tor the actress’s return. An open “part” 
lay at her elbow, and, seeing what It was-or 
guessing—she brushed it away with a gesture of 
disgust, in doing so she knocked down a little 
leather writing-case, scattering the papers it held 
mi the floor, and as she replaced them, a name on 
an envelope caught her eye- Lord Blamyre.” 
It was in Miss Care w’s delicate writing, aud the 
envelope, which was unfastened, contained a let¬ 
ter—with no superscription, but In Miss carow’s 
hand, addressed to a lord! Miss Y'orke’s heart be¬ 
gan to beat, a dark flush rose to her face; she 
caught the letter up with trembling hands, and, 
after a hurried glance at the door, deliberately 
opened the envelope and read Its contents. 
Chapter V. 
M138 Yorke’s hands trembled still more as, having 
read and re-read the letter, she folded it up and 
put it, in Its envelope, Into her pocket. Her ex¬ 
citement was great. She could not sit still, but 
rose and paced the little parlor, hurriedly, beating 
one hand against the other and muttering rapidly 
to herself. Morning was wearing away Into after¬ 
noon, luncheon was over long since In George 
street, but Miss Elizabeth would not go home till 
she had seen Olive Carew. She took her seat, at 
last In the bow-window and watched. 
She could hear Nelson’s cheery little treble pip¬ 
ing to baby Allen, a ud a smell of something roast¬ 
ing for the actress's dinner began to pervade the 
small house. The organ-man, who had uncon¬ 
sciously helped her to the discovery or the letter, 
saw her glim figure sitting at the window as lie 
came up the street, and played “ vaes-luP ’ and 
“Down In a Coal Mine” all through without pro¬ 
voking a gratuity, and then, just as the little clock 
on the mantelpiece struck three, Miss Y'orke’s 
patience was rewarded, and she su w the tall figure 
she was waiting for coming slowly down the street. 
Miss Elizabeth drew herself up and put herself In 
battle array. Every line of her brown silk armor 
was lu its place, her smart bonnet had the air of a 
helmet, her umbrella seemed turned Into' a sword 
as she grasped it in her strong hand. There was 
a joyous greet! ng at t he door as Nelson ran to open 
It for his sister, then some quieter words followed, 
and olive came up-stalrs and into the little sitting- 
room alone. She was pale and tired, and looked 
as if she had been crying. The uncompromising 
face she found awaiting ligr was rather a trial t* 
her nerves Just then. 
“ Miss Yorke I” she said faintly. “ They did not 
tell me you were here. Have you been waiting 
long ? I have been detained ” 
“I have been here two hours,” her visitor re¬ 
plied, so rudely that Olive turned, flushing a little, 
and looked at her, sifl'prlsed. 
“I thought Mre. Allen understood that 1 was 
not at home to any one to-day,” she answered 
gently. “1 am not very well. I have had some 
painful business to attend to, and-” 
Miss Yorke coughed. 
“ You are very kind,” Olive said, smothering a 
sigh; and she look off her hat and threw it on to 
the table, she was thinking of the quiet hour she 
had hoped for before going to her work again, and 
she could not keep llie weariness and dejection out 
of her voice as she sat down and leant her head 
back in all its fair young beauty against the dingy 
horse-hair chair. “ I am sorry 1 missed Dr. Yorke,” 
she added. “ 1 did not think he would call here so 
early.” 
“lie did not know that you were more agreeably 
engaged, of course.” 
Again Olive turned and looked at her visitor, 
surprised. 
“May 1 ask what you mean?” she said, quietly. 
“Even If 1 had been at home, I do not know that I 
should have seen Robert this morning. 1 do not 
feel able to talk to any one, and really 1 believed 
that these rooms were mine, and that I could give 
what orders I pleased In them until to-day.” 
“ That is meant for me, 1 supposeand Miss 
Elizabeth laughed scornfully. “1 can assure you, 
Miss Carew, that nothing but a feeling of duty In¬ 
duces me to remain another moment in (his house, 
after what I have Been, though I don’t value your 
fine-lady sneer the snap of my fingers.” 
OUve regarded the angry woman with eyes of 
quiet dislike. She had always known that they 
two must quarrel terribly some day, and now the 
day was come. 
“ You have something to say ?” she returned, 
calmly. “My time is short. ’ 
“YesI I have something to say,” Miss Eliza¬ 
beth cried, beginning to tremble again—“and 
something that you will do well to consider.” 
Olive bowed. 
“ Y'ou know well enough that I don’t, like you,” 
the hard old voice went on. “ I never pretended 
to like you. I have had plans of iny own for Rob¬ 
ert, and you come here to upset them all. How 
can you expect me to swallow my disappointment 
and meet you with open arms—you and your 
sickly brother, who will be a trouble aud an ex¬ 
pense as loDg as he lives?” 
Olive was silent. A sktdder ran through her 
veins as she noticed, for the first time, that there 
was in this coarse, ill-tempered woman’s face a 
likeness to Dr. Y’orke. 
“ Will he look like that in a few years?” she 
thought, wretchedly, “Could he speak like that 
If he were angry?” 
Miss Y'orke had taken breath, and was ready to 
go on. 
“ i have told Robert, often and often what I 
thought of you; but what Is the use of talking to 
a man while he Is infatuated, and blind, and —” 
"I shall be glad if you will come to the point," 
Miss Carew Interposed In her low voice, that con¬ 
trasted so strangely with the elder woman’s high- 
pitched accents—as strangely as her pale beauty 
with Miss Elizabeth's angry purple face, set In Its 
gaudy ribbons. 
“Then this Is the point,I" the Doctor’s aunt 
cried fiercely. “ 1 have found out the Intrigue you 
are carrying on. I know what appointment you 
have been keeping tills morning, Miss Carew”— 
with a deadly emphasis on Olive’s pretty name, as 
though It were an offence lu Itself. 
“Go on," said Olive, turning pale, but facing her 
adversary with steady, lucid eyes. “ Let me know 
of what you suspect me.” 
“Suspect!” Miss Y’orke echoed. “I tell you I 
have proof." Here her hand Involuntarily sought 
the stolen letter lu her pocket.. -I have a hold 
over you that you dou’t dream of, and 1 mean to 
use it if you force me, but for Robert’s sake, for 
the sake of our name, I want no fuss-no scandal— 
and l am willing to compromise If you and 1 can 
come to terms. ” 
“ Go on,” olive said again. 
“ you had words with Robert yesterday—1 saw 
that plalu enough by ills face. Y’ou would not see 
him to-day. Well, 1 don't think you will lxafe 
many more chances oi saying ‘Not at home’ to 
Dr. Y'orke.” 
“ Go on.” 
“ Of course it Is for his money you want to marry 
him. He’s not the sort of man to take your fancy 
I warrant!” 
“ go on.” 
“ But, If you do marry him, not a soul In Wool- 
eheater will visit you, remember thatl Y’ou will 
ruin the Doctor; and what will you be without 
your dressing and acting, and with no men to run 
after ycu, sitting by yourself all day, aud minding 
your house ?’’ 
“ Go on.” 
“ Miss Carew, I have a little money by me that 
the Doctor knows nothing of. Give me back Ills 
promise—1 dare say you have got a written one 
from him—leave here at once, and I wUl give you 
three huudred pounds, and-” 
Olive started up, stung to the quick by the dead¬ 
ly Insult. 
“ How dare you, madam?” she panted out, the 
Indignant blood rushing In torrents to her lace and 
throat. “ What must you think of me ? How far 
too mercifully 1 have hitherto judged you! For 
your brother's sake l will endure much, but., as for 
this ’’—with a passionate gesture of contempt—“ I 
will not stoop to convince you of the terrible mis¬ 
take you have made. I will never address another 
word to you as long as I live!”—[To be continued. 
$or ©lomra. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS FAITH RIPLEY. 
“ HOME PfiOTEOTION.” 
An Argument for Woman’s Temperance 
Ballot. 
BY FRANCES E. WJLI.AHD, 
PRESIDENT OF ILLINOIS W. C. T. If, 
KEY TO TUE TOSITION. 
“ ah ! but," pursues our doubting friend. “ Maine 
Is a peculiar State, In this : It has few foreigners, 
with their traditions of whisky and of beer.” 
I grant you there we are at disadvantage. But 
go with me to the Cunard whams of Boston and 
to Castle Garden of New Y'ork, and as the long pro¬ 
cession of immigrants stops across the gangway, 
you will find three times ns many men ns women- 
How can we offset their vote for free liquor, on Sun¬ 
days and all other days ? Surely, the answer to 
this question Is not far to seek, strengthen the 
sinews of old King Majority, by counting in the 
home vote to offset that of Hamburg and of Cork, 
and let American customs survive by utilizing (at 
the point where by the correlation of gover nmen¬ 
tal forces “ opinion" passes Into “ law”) the opin¬ 
ion of those gentle “ natives” who are the neces¬ 
sary and tender guardians of the home, ol tempted 
manhood and untaught little children. 
Hands which have Just put aside the beer-mug, 
tbe decanter, and the greasy pact: ot cards are 
casting ballots which undermine our Sabbaths, 
Ueense social crimes that shall be nameless, and 
open 260,000 dram-shops In the shadow of the 
church and public school. Impressed by the fact 
that when voters meet voters the side will win 
that has most votes, I solemnly call upon my 
countrymen to release those other hands, familiar 
with the pages of the Book ot God, busied with 
sacred duties of the home and gracious deeds of 
chanty, that they may drop those whiter ballots 
In, which, as God lives, alone can save the State! 
Great guns of Influence are pointing Into vacancy, 
when they ought to be swung to the level of be¬ 
nignant use and pointed on election day straight 
into the faces of the foe. 
THE WOMEN OF ILLINOIS. 
Kind friends. 1 am not theorizing. I speak that 
I do know and testify what I have seen. Out on 
the Illinois prairies we have resolved to expend on 
voters the work at first bestowed upon saloon¬ 
keepers. We have transferred the scene of our 
crusade from the dram-shop to the counctl-room of 
the municipal authorities whence flic dram-shops 
derive their guaranties and safeguards. Nay, more. 
The bitter argument of defeat led us to trace the 
tawny, seething, foaming tide of beer and whisky 
to Its Bource ; and there we found It surging forth 
from the stately capltol of Illinois, with Us proud 
dome and flag of stripes and stars, so we have 
made that capltol the center of our operations ; 
and last winter, as one among the many branches 
of our work, we gathered up 175,ooo names of Ill 
Inois's best men and women (so,ooo being the names 
of voters), who asked the legislature for a law glv- 
Ing women the ballot on the temperance- question. 
In prosecuting our canvass for these names, we 
sent copies of our “ Home Protection Petition” to 
every mlnlstoi, editor, and postmaster In this 
State; also to all leading temperance men and 
women, missionary women, and Grangers ; teach¬ 
ers. odd Fellows, and Free Masons; Greenback 
and Red-Ribbon clubs: to Quakers and CathoUcs, 
Knights ot Pythias and express corporations; 
Jews, Gentiles, aud railroad companies. 
In this way our great state of 55,000 square miles 
was permeated, aud in most of Its t.ooo towns the 
petition was brought before the people. The reli¬ 
gious press was a unit In our favor. The reform 
clubs of tbe State, with ribbons blue and red,_ 
helped us with their usual heartiness aud efficiency 
And what shall be thought ot the advance In pub' 
He Benttment, when (as was often done) all the 
churches join on sabbath night In a “ Union Home 
Protection Meeting,” and Ministers of all denomi¬ 
nations (Presbyterians Included) conduct the 
opening exercises, alter which a woman presents 
the religious duty or women to seek and meu to 
supply the temperance ballot; and, to crown all, 
cOnsc.mit ive young ladies go up and down the aisles 
earnestly asking for signatures, to the tunc of 
“ stand uji, (itaml npfor Jesus, 
Ye soldiers of Uhj Croat-; 
Lift lilvU Hie royal banne-v. 
It must net suiter loss.” 
Friends, It means something tor women ot the 
churches to take this radical position, America 
lias developed no movement more significant for 
good since the first dawning of the day we cele¬ 
brate. 
The State ot Indiana stands with us; only there 
the temperance women have worked out the prob- 
