The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1884-09-26


1t was dark, proud face, as shown
by he freight, brooding over her bit
,!r wrongs beautiful face, with
charGcter and purpose shown in the
clea', decided contour of brow and
chm, despite the softness suggested by
the rich olive of the rounded cheeks,
and the dark, deep Southern eyes
which looked as though they could
love passionately, or hate bitterly, to
tie end.
81 will be revenged. l swear it ~
she said, at last, clenching her gloved
hand with passionate force, while those
deep, dark eyes glowed dangerously in
the dusk. ''She has stolen my hus.
band--ruined my life. AS sure as
there is God in Heaven, she shall
suffer for it !"
A few days later her servants were
dismissed, her pretty cottage closed
aud Louise Ransiord started forth up.
on her errand of vengeance.
OF course the town rang with the
news of Ransford's flight with the
danseuse, for it was at once guessed
that they had gone together. But
none had dared TO question the desert
ed wife, who, in such proud silence,
hau quietly gone about making ar
engagements for her departure and then
had suddenly disappeared from their
midst.
The sun, high in the heavens, sent
his lances of golden light down into the
pine-scented canon, where a rough but
stirring mining settlement had taken
root and hourished.
The train from the East had Just
passed through, and the attention OF
many was curiously turned to the ele-
giant figure of lady in a gray travel.
ing suit and closely veiled, who had
stepped off the train and was making
her way daintily down the main thor
oughfare leading to the heart of the
settlement.
Presently she came upon a group Of
men gathering around the open door
way of cabin standing few PAGES
back from the street. They were
talking in low, subdued tones, with an
air of earnest interest, but the lady
did not at first notice any unusual ex-
citement.
She hesitated an instant, then gently
touched the arm of the man who stood
nearest her, with the point of her par
asol.
"Pardon me, sir" she began, in q
low, sweetly-modulated voice, "but can
you tell me"
She did not finish, for, as the man
turned toward her, the look of awe on
his rough, sunburned face struck her
with wonder, and, involuntarily, she
stepped forward among them to learn
the cause of it.
Through the open door she saw the
lifeless figure of woman laid out up
on a couch within plain but neatly
furnished room, and lovely 2-year-
old child sobbing piteously beside it.
Two or three rather coarse-looking
women who were moving about the
room seemed either too busy or too
callous to attend to the grief of the
lonely little creature
"What's goin' to become O the
young un?' said one of the men at the
door, in stage whisper. That's what
I'd like ter know"
"Where is the woman's husband 2"
asked the strange lady, speaking for
the first time, as if inspired with a sud
den interest in the scene.
"Husband?' echoed the man, a per
ceptible sneer in his voice. "Well,
ma am, l reckon as how he amt her
husband much more'n | be; but if ye
mean that kids father, why he's gone
over the range prospectin', and amt
liable to be back fur month to
| come
'Poor little thing!" said the woman
softly, her woman's heart-and it was
lonely one-thrilling with pity for
the motherless babe. 81 have no
children l am almost tempted to take
it myself.
And she went over to the sobbing
child, throwing back her thick veil, as
she did so, and disclosing a clear, dark
face of such proud beauty that every
one of the little group thrilled with
surprise and admiration.
"What is your name, dearie ?" she
asked, with exquisite tenderness, put
ting her arms about the little one and
drawing her close to her breast.
The child looked up in wonder.
"Normie," she lisped, in her sweet
baby tongue, choking her sobs as the
beautiful lady kissed her and soothed
her grief.
AT the sound of that name Louise
Ransford, for it was she, put the child
from her with sudden agonzed ges-
ture, and went and stood beside the
couch, looking down upon the face of
the dead
"Who was she p
The question came from her lips in
sort of gasp. Yet she knew, even be-
fore the answer came, for the dark, Sc.
ductive beauty of that face, when in
life, had not been unfamiliar to her.
The female attendants, in their gar
rnlous fashion, told her all they knew
of the dead woman's story. When it
was ended the wronged wife knew,
beyond all doubt, that the woman
whose Nemesis she had sworn to be
was lying dead before her.
She had ruptured a blood vessel
while waltzing the previous night at
one of those ''tiash" parties which she
liked to frequent, and which she never
dared to attend when "Mr. Norman
was at home.
As she listened to this story her
hand unconsciously strayed to the hilt
of sharp and slender Italian dagger,
concealed beneath her travelling sacque,
her faithful companion during the
three years in which she had untiring-
ly tracked this guilty woman with her
vow of vengeance.
A fierce anger thrilled her breast
when she first saw how fate had rob
bed her of her victim But, gazing
down upon the still, white face of her
dead rival, whose dangerous fascina.
tions were now forever powerless,
softer feelings began to stir in her
heart, and she thanked God for having