Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1885-06-06
MAY MoRELAND.
CHAPTER XIII.
BY NJ. A. RIED.

reauer must Dear III luIuU tndL III Was
the morning on which Bernard told
May of his disappearance.
Norton slept on until sometime in
the day, while Clifton kept watch over
him.
At last he awoke, and turning look.
ed at Clifton and said:
"How do you feel now, mine ene-
my?" with sickly, satonic grin.
"Well, if you don't want to talk, you
needn't; but won't you feel lonesome
herer to morrow with dead man for
company; I won't live longer than
to-day. Your time will come next
Mark you, Frank Clifton, you thought
you had killed me once, but you were
mistaken. They buried a coffin full
of one trash and another. | thought
you were dead, too, till | met you at
Morelands. l loved May Moreland,
do you know? Loved her as | had
never dreamed of loving any thing on
earth. If l had married her, should
have been different man the rest of
my life, But curse you, you found me
out; she helped you; that was the bit
ter part. tried to kill that poor devil
of an artist for showing that picture.
By the way, I've been thinking I'll
tell you a little secret, because | know
you'll keep it for lack of opportunity
to fell it. Adds child is living yet|
Frank Clifton sprang to his feet and
looked at the man before him.
"Villain, what do you mean? Ada
had no child"
eyes but l say she had. Sit down
and don't Look so tyranical, you'll get
me excited and shan't be able to tell
the secret.
"Ada would have told you if she had
lived long enough. The old negress
didn't tell you that night because she
though you knew it. / had her poi
soned before she saw any of you again.
l recked you heard she died the day
! was buried"
"And the child ?"
"Is living now, beautiful girl; just
like Ada"
"Where is she ?"
"In this city, No. 30 North Main
Street achee yOu get out you can GO
and see her, just told you to furnish
you food for thought while you are here
by yourself. You'll be by yourself to-
morrow for | can't last much longer.
know you want me hung, but beg tc
be excused"
His voice was very weak and he
could not rise from the lounge. Clifton
knew he spoke truly when he said he
could not last long.
Norton said no more that day; he
lay and slept, but his sleep was broker
once or twice; he murmered: "bread
bread, give me bread; or a little water
just alittle."
He lay all the time with his bach
to Clifton as if he could not bear tt
look at him. Thus the day passed
and the second night came. Franz
Clifton lit the lamp again. There wa
scarcely oil enough to burn through thu
night, and he shuddered to think tina
the next night he would be there alon'
in the dark, with the dead man. H
went up to the lounge and took hole
of Nortons wrist; he could scarcely fee
the feeble pulse. 1t was plain that h
would die. Clifton turned away ant
looked round the room. There was
mans coat hanging against the wall; h
took it down and felt in the pockets
In one pocket he found about gill 0
brandy. His first thought was t
drink it, and thus gather littl
strength for his long nights watch; the
he changed his mind, and going up t
Norton he turned him over and poure,
small portion down his throat. In
few moments the pulse beat stronger
and Clifton turned away and sat dowr
Overpowered with watching, ez
element and want of food, he fe
asleep, and woke not until the era
light of morning shone thro' the vii
dow. He arose and approached No
ton who Law inst as he had left hin