Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1881-04-02

pense which | cannot attempt to de-
scribe. We don't know where he has
been, or in the company of what per-
sons he has passed the time of his
absence. No persuasion will induce
him to speak on the subject. This
mcrning We listened while he was
talking to himself"
Stella felt the thrill of sudden fear.
Was it part of the boys madness to re-
peat the words which still echoed in
Romayne's ears? "Does he ever speak
of the duel?' she asked.
"Never! He seems to have lost all
memory of it. We only heard, this
morning, one or two unconnected words,
something about a woman, and then
more that appeared to allude to some
persons death. Last night was with
him when he went to bed, and I found
that he had something to conceal from
me. He let me fold all his clothes, as
usual, except his waistcoat, and that he
snatched away from me, and put it
under his pillow. We have no hope of
being able to examine the waistcost
without his knowledge. His sleep is
like the 81 ep of a dog; if you only ap-
proach him he wakes instantly. For
give me in troubling you with these
trifing details, only interesting to our
selves. You will at least understand the
constant anxiety that we suffer-"
"In your unhappy position" said
Stella. 1 should try to resign myself
to parting with him-I mean. to place
him under medical care"
The mothers face saddened.
"I have inquired about it," she
answered. "He must pass a night in
the workhouse before he can be received
MS pauper lunatic in public asylum.
Oh, my dear, L am afraid there is
some pride still left in me! He is my
only son now; his father was General
in the French army; I was brought up
among people of good blood and breed
ing; I can't take my own boy to the
workhouse !"
Stella took her hand.
81 feel for you with all my heart" I"
sho said. "Place him privately, dear
Madam Marillac, under skillfI and
kind control, and let me, do let me,
open the pocketbook again!'
The widow steadily refused even to
look at the pocketbook.
Perhaps" Stella persisted, "you
don't know of private asylum that
would satisfy you?"
"My dear, I do know of such place.
The good doctor who attended my hus-
band in his last illness told me Of it. A
friend of his receives certain number
of poor people into his house, and
charges no more than the cost Of main
tanning them. An unattainabls sum to
me. There is the temptation that I
spoke OF. The help of few pounds I
might accept, if | fell ill, because l
might afterward pay it back. But a
larger sum-never!"
She rose as if to end the interview.
Stella tried every means of persuasion
that she could think OF, and tried in
vain. The friendly dispute between
them might have been prolonged, if they
had not both been silenced by another
interruption from the next room.
This time it was not only endurable. it
was even welcome. The poor boy was
playing the air of French vaudeville
on pipe or fageolet.
"Now he is happy !" said the mother.
"He is a born musician; d ocome and
see him I"
An idea struck Stella. She overcsme
the inveterate reluctance in her to see
the boy SO fatally associated With the
misery of Romayne's life. As Madam
Marillac led the way to the door of
communication betS cen the rooms she
quickly took from her pocketbook the
banknotes with which she had provided
herself, and folded them SO that they
could be easily concealed in her hand.
She followed the widow into the little
room.
The boy was sitting on his bed. He
laid down his hageolet and bowed to
Stella. His long silky hair flowed to
his shoulders. But one betrayal Of
deranged mind presented itself in his
delicate face-his large, soft eyes had
the CLASSY vacant look which it is i'm
possible to mistake.
"Do you like music, mademoiselle? ?"
he asked, gently.
Stella asked him to play his little
vaudeville air again. He proudly com
piled with the request. His sister
seemed to resent the presence of
stranger.
"The work is at o standstill," she
said, and passed into the front room.
Her mother followed her as far as the
door to give her some necessary direc-
tions. Stella seized her opportunity.
She put the banknotes into the pocket
of the boys jacket, and whispered to
him:
"Give them to your mother when 1
have gone away" Under those circum-