The Dillon tribune. [volume] (Dillon, Mont.) 1881-1941, 1885-09-12

..,,o,,- for in these cases the exact amount IS
nevor stated. In short, no one knows how
Frank spoke the truth. No one knew:
Tho railway tickets having been collected
io,,o hafore Munich was reached, for all the
ofac;als of the train knew, Hervey and Mrs
Miller might have disembarked with other
passengers, The won,ans box, which was
Registered through to Munich, was lying
the baggage office unclaimed. Perhaps
lies there till this day Her hand bag went
where sucb things 20 when left in a train
Could the steward or the guard have seen
the dead body they might have recognized
it as that of passenger; but It was put ou'
of sight long before the great tram came
tearing back from Constantlnople. 30 nc
one in Munich knew more than was emood'
led in the official report.
What brought him to MunichF asked
Beatrice. ''How did be know was heres'
Frank could only shake his head again
He must have seen Sarah" she conti;, +.
ned. answering her own question. "Hs
mnst have learned from her where was.
Whv did she not write aud tell mes Some
harm may have befallen her: ) wish she
was back
..Would you like to 500 his graver' Frank
asked after a pause Beatrice shivered.
..No " she said. II think not-unless you
would call it unwomanly not to do so.'
mo" said Frank. 81 can SEQ no reason
for it"
'sWhat could do at his grave!' asked
Beatrice softly and dreamiiy. Zone goes
to q grave to weep. l could not weep.
After a load, which one has for years car
ried day and night. is lifted from the mind,
one does not weep. one rejoices. Frank,
dare not stand over grave and feel like
that. Let me say I forgive him. ] can do
no more"
mo one who knew all could ask more"
"'Speak nothing but good of the dead,'"
she continued in the same dreamy way.
'Frank, cannot recall any good of which
to speak. For few weeks loved him, or
thought loved him; but that was years,
years ago. Alb me, those years! All / can
now do is to say will speak no evil of him.
He is dead. forgive him, an2 will try and
forget him."
For the first time the tears rose to her
eyes. There was a long pause. Beatrice
and Frank were now standing He took
her hands in his and held them.
"Beatrice-darling, !" he whispered. do
you remember the words you said few
days ago-said in this very room! When
there seemed no chance of happiness for you
and me. Dearest, all is now changed. We
are in new world. Beatrice, will you say
once more i'm our new world what you said
in the oldY'
Lower and lower she bent her head, and
the blush rose and deepened on her white
cheek Then she raised her head, and her
gray eyes looked into his.
LET me leave you one moment" she whis- |
pered. Without waiting for the permission |
she drew her hands from his and glided |
away, swiftly as she had left that evening |
at Lakewood House, but this time without |
leaving him hopeless
She came back in less than minute, and
her boy came with her. Holding him by
the hand she stood and looked at Frank.
He understood. He drew the boy to him.
sat down and put the little fellow between
his knees. Placing one hand on his head,
he looked up at Beatrice with grave
SMILE
Dearest" be said, ''children may come
to us or not; but this boy shall always be
to me as my own SON. He shall never
mourn for his unknown father; never, il l
eau help, know shame covers that fathers
NAME"
He raised the child and kissed it. Harry,
with whom Carruthers was always prime
favorite, put bis chubby arms round his
friends neck Beatrice watched them and
smiled softly
Carruthers, after disengaging himself |
from the boys embrace, put him gently |
aside, rose and held out his arms. Beatrice |
came to them, laid her head on his shoulder |
and wept happy tears. He whispered words |
IF passionate love, kissed her again and |
again, and all the while Master Harry |
watched the two with childish attention,
and wondered what was the meaning of the |
curious scene. At last they remembered his |
presence, and Beatrice handed him over to |
lis Bavarian nurse-an act of expulsion |
which he much resented.
Somehow, the thought that death alone |
1ad given the right to love made Frank and |
Beatrice's love-making quiet and restrained. |
They were happy, Of course, or Frank was,
but not demonstratively happy. After he
had told her a thousand times that he loved |
her, Beatrice kneeled at his side and held his |
1and
FRANK, my own Frank, she whispered. |
you will never bring the past up against |
nes l have been wicked, deceitful, but,
learest, have suffered for it. Frank, you
shall know every thought of my heart I
will be true wife. If any thing ever told
ne that the remembrance of the past made
you doubt me, should die-I should die,
Frank"
OF course he took her in his arms and |
vowed she was the sweetest, truest, noblest,
'tc., etc. What, in fact, every one vows in
position similar to his.
Then she asked him to leave her for awhile
leave her to think over all that had hap
oened. He obeyed. He, too, wanted to
;hink.
Naturally he called again later in the day,
md the two began in rational way to dis
;uss their plans for the future Beatrice
vas very uneasy about Mrs. Miller. She
olamod herself for not ha vi,,@r taLon tia ID