STRONGER THAN DEATH. A NOVEL. BY M. SULLIVAN CHAP. XXIII. THE STORY CONTINUED BY DAVID STONE. DREAMS AND DREAMING. BY CYRUS Redding WHAT THE THISTLE LIVEN TO SEE. BY HANS CHRISTIAN DR. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE Is the Original and Only Genuine. CHLORODYNE is the best remedy known for Coughs, Consumption, Bronchitis, &c. CHLORODYNE acts like a charm in Diarrhoea, and is the only specific in Cholera CHLORODYNE effectually cuts short all attacks of Epilepsy, Hysteria, and Spasms. CHLORODYNE is the only palliative in Neuralgia, Rheumatism, Gout, Cancer, &c. CHLORODYNE is the great sheet anchor in domestic and family use, both in the Nursery and Lying-in-Room; to the Traveller most indispensable, and to Naval and Military Men a sine qua non. ADVICE TO INVALIDS.-If you wish to obtain quiet refreshing sleep, free from headache, relief from pain and anguish, to calm and assuage the weary achings of protracted disease, invigorate the nervous media, and regulate the circulating systems of the body, you will provide yourself with that marvellous remedy discovered by Dr. J. COLLIS BROWNE (late Army Medical Staff), to which he gave the name of "CHLORODYNE." From Lord Francis Conyngham, Mount Charles, Donegal, December 11, 1868. "Lord Francis Conyngham, who this time last year bought some of Dr. J. Collis Browne's Chlorodyne from Mr. Davenport, and has found it a most wonderful medicine, will be glad to have half-a-dozen bottles sent at once to the above address." "Earl Russell communicated to the College of Physicians that he had received a despatch from her Majesty's Consul at Manilla, to the effect that Cholera has been raging fearfully, and that the ONLY remedy of any service was CHLORODYNE."-See Lancet, December 1, 1864. CAUTION.-BEWARE OF PIRACY AND IMITATIONS. CAUTION. "Vice-Chancellor Sir W. Page Wood stated that Dr. J. COLLIS BROWNE was undoubtedly the Inventor of Chlorodyne; that the story of the defendant Freeman was deliberately untrue, which, he regretted to say, had been sworn to."-See Times, July 13, 1864. Sold in bottles, at 1s. 1d., 2s. 9d., 4s. 6d., and 11s. each. None is genuine without the words "Dr. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE" on the Government Stamp. Overwhelming Medical Testimony accompanies each bottle. Sole Manufacturer, J. T. DAVENPORT, 33, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, London. OLMAN'S BRITISH ORN-FLOUR is prepared from RICE, the staple food of more than Three Hundred Millions (300,000,000) of People, and is unequalled for Blanc-Mange, Custards, Puddings, Cakes, Soups, &c., and is the most wholesome and easily digestible Food for Children and Invalids. Testimonial from EDWIN LANKESTER, M.D., F.R.S. "Rice-Flour is Corn-Flour, and I regard this preparation of Messrs. COLMAN's as superior to anything of the kind now before the public." Testimonial from ARTHUR HILL HASSALL, M.D. "I find it to be perfectly pure and most carefully manufactured; it forms an exceedingly digestible and wholesome article of diet." Testimonial from CHARLES A. CAMERON, M.D. "I have never tasted anything of the kind more agreeable in flavour or so easily digestible." Retailed by Family Grocers and Druggists. NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. STRONGER THAN DEATH. A NOVEL. BY M. SULLIVAN. XXIII. THE STORY CONTINUED BY DAVID STONE. THE name of Lawford, mentioned in the letter which I retained in my possession, impressed me to a degree for which I cannot in the least account, except by supposing that the most trivial coincidence which bore upon the subject of my one great trouble would be likely to haunt my waking and sleeping thoughts. I told myself over and over again that the name is not a very uncommon one, and that even if the Mrs. Lawford mentioned in the letter should happen to be Priscilla's mother, the fact would be of no significance whatever to me, though it might possibly be of consequence to Susan Armstrong, as a clue might be found to her present place of abode through the recollections of former employers. I did not feel in the least disposed to communicate with the police on the subject of Michael Stump's death; one person who was concerned in the murder was, as far as I knew, still living, and undergoing a term of penal servitude for another offence, and though I did not know whether my evidence against him would be legally admissible, I greatly preferred not to give it, admiring most sincerely our entire system of criminal legislature, and as sincerely desiring to have nothing whatever to do with any part of it. If in time to come some person should be suspected unjustly, or as I believed unjustly, of this crime, I should feel obliged to speak, and to tell what I knew about it, but not otherwise. Still, a restless desire possessed me to be doing something, and the more that something should differ from the routine of my ordinary life, the better. It was under the influence of this spirit. of vague unrest that I decided to seek out Mrs. Huxton myself, and to learn from her any particulars about Susan Armstrong with July—VOL. CXLVII. NO. DXCV. B which she might be acquainted, before I tried to find out the lawyer to whom Stump's letter would have been addressed had he lived to complete and copy it. I could not have done even this had my time and attention been occupied, as of old, with my work at Banfield, but, as I said before, I had given it up for a time, and a great gulf seemed to separate me from the days, so lately passed, when every interest of life centred in my people. As the train took me from Exeter to London, I could not help wondering at the difference between my present and my former self; and at last I began to see, though very dimly, that the waters of my life had been troubled, like those of Bethesda, and that the healing which was to follow had not yet been vouchsafed. And then, as the train whirled on, my thoughts wandered away to Susan Armstrong, and I began to weave a story about her almost unconsciously, to imagine her in want and poverty, and to picture to myself the strange surprise with which she would hear that money had been left to her by this man, whose relationship or connexion with her I could not even guess. Then I would fancy that, perhaps, some struggling and overworked member of my congregation at Banfield might turn out to be Susan Armstrong, known to me by another name on account of her marriage, and all the time I had some kind of feeling or presentiment that the Lawfords of Pebble Combe would be in some manner connected with this inquiry. I found Mr. Huxton's shop without the least difficulty, and his wife was fortunately at home. She is a shrewd, kind-hearted, common-place sort of woman, very fond of talking, and she was anxious to give me all the information in her power. What I learnt from her, directly or indirectly, almost exceeded my powers of belief, and yet I was obliged to believe it. Susan Armstrong was dead, having previously been married, and her husband being also deceased. An infant daughter was left, who, if living, is the heir to Michael Stump's property, which may happen to be considerable, or may be very small. But now comes the incredible part of the story; it seems that Priscilla Lawford is Susan's child, and is the grand-daughter, not the daughter, of the people who have brought her up as their own! Mrs. Huxton had never even seen Priscilla, and did not know if she were living, and I can hardly tell how it was that, as I listened to her narrative and afterwards questioned her about the facts, I gradually identified Priscilla with Susan's child. But I did so identify her, and, moreover, I felt sure that her grandmother (yes, I saw now that Mrs. Lawford was much more like her grandmother than her mother) was by no means a fitting person to have the care of her, or one on whose word I could rely, when she gave a reason that must separate me from Priscilla, if I believed it. I had believed it when I looked upon her as Priscilla's mother, and even then I shrank from her with involuntary dislike; but now all things had become new to me. I could imagine it, not indeed as probable, but still as possible, that Priscilla, having been adopted from caprice, had been first a pet on which affection could be ostentatiously lavished, afterwards a neglected child, and gradually an object of jealousy and positive dislike. Not of course to Mr. Lawford; I do not believe there is a man in all creation so unredeemably wicked and cruel as this; women, as a rule, have tenderer natures and finer sympathies, but when these are perverted or left blank- Is it not heaven that makes hell the terrible place we believe it to be, and does not our idea of a devil pre-suppose the angel fallen? I left Mrs. Huxton with my thoughts in a strange tangle between probabilities and possibilities, and after I had tried to range them into some kind of order, and to separate fact from mere conjecture, a belief in the identity of Priscilla with Susan Armstrong's child shone suddenly into my mind, and with it the consequent belief that her lot had been an exceptionally hard one. I cannot tell from whence the conviction came, but it did come. And then my knowledge of Priscilla's mind and character helped me to fill up the dismal picture; and though I shrank aghast from its miserable details, I could not help repeating them and dwelling on them, and the picture was something like this: A girl-baby, adopted by the caprice of a woman whose evil custom it was to lavish a short-lived affection upon the favourite of an hour. She is petted and spoilt as a little child, neglected as a girl, looked upon with jealousy as she approaches womanhood. Still she believes the lie that places her persecutor in the position of a parent, and with the sweet endurance of that most hopeful age she bears on, making a religion of the filial sentiment, being always ready to take blame to herself for the causes of her unhappiness, trying meekly to propitiate the demon of jealousy, clad in the stolen garments of parental love! I shuddered at the idea after I had imaged it to myself, for it is difficult to imagine a more dreadful position for any one so sensitive and affectionate as Priscilla; but what Mrs. Huxton had told me really did suggest it, and my own observation confirmed it in some measure. "Jealousy is cruel as the grave," I repeated to myself, with Mrs. Lawford's face distinctly before me, "but Love is strong as Death!" Nay, was not the grand epic of the New Testament written to show us that Love can be stronger than Death? |