The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1886-08-13

| arthur. dear, give 1t to me. on
don't want it tonight. Why not wait
until the morning"
''Give it to you? No; l! l knew a
trick worth two of that. All, you think
| don't know that you and that con-
founded mealy-mou5hed doctor are in
league against me-"
Crawford's voice, shrill and mock
ing, but undoubtedly his. Good
heavens! was the man drunk? There
was Il moments pause, and then he be-
gan again, this time more gently.
Come, come, Beatrice. Drop this
stupid looking. l only want to have
little cut at BERTHE, just little cut;
and look! the knife is so bright and
sharp it cannot hurt him much"
In flash Of revelation that nearly
blinded me, as | realized the full hor-
ror of the situation, | understood for
the first time how matters actually
stood Crawford himself was the mad
man, and the devoted wife had known
the truth all this time, and for some
inscrutabie reason had shielded him,
perhaps at the cost of her very life.
While these thoughts were rushing
through my BRAIN had noselessly
opened the outer door, and now stood
in the dressing-room peering into the
bedroom beyond. The door between
the two was standing open, but heavy
curtain hung in the aperture. and, by
making q little slit in it by means of
4 penknife, | was enabled to command
a view OF the interior. At the farther
end of the apartment lay BERTHE asleep
in his cot. Standiug before him, clad
in long white wrapper and with her
auburn hair flowing over her shoulders
was the young mother herself while at
some PAGES from her stood Crawford,
still in evening dress and balancing in
his fingers a long glittering dagger.
BY this time he had dropped his angry
tones and was speaking in his accus-
toned pleasant fashion. You know,
dear" he was saying, ''it really is ne
cessary that we both drink some. Half
glassful of young and innocent blood
and we shall both keep young and
happy forever"
Won't my blood do?" asked the
girl desperately. She stretched her
bare arms toward him and forced
smile to her poor quivering lips.
You are much fonder of me, aren't
you. dear? 1 shall do much better"
He laughed softly. mo, no, my
darling; not you. / wouldn't hurt you
for all the gold of all the Indies" He
stopped suddenly. as if struck by his
own words. "Gold?" he repeated. "Ah!
yes, of course, must have gold. Where
did l put it, now?"
He retreated a few steps, looking un-
easily from side to side.
Perhaps you left it in the library.
Ring for James. Or go to Mr.. Lennox,
Arthur; he will help you to find it.
He laughed again-a low monoto-
nous laugh, to which my hospital work
had but toe well accustomed me, and
then he moved near her, still balancing
the dagger in his long, nervous fingers.
If he had only put it down for mo-
ment / could have rushed in and secur-
ed it before turning to him, but, as mat
ters were, cruel experience taught me
that the instant he caught sight of me
he would rush to the child to carry his
dreadful purpose into effect, and that
the mother. in all probability, would
fall the victim. On the other hand, /
dared not quit my post to summon as
sistance and so leave Beatrice entirely
at his mercy. | glanced round the
dressing-room and the window-cord
caught my eye. cut it up as high as
[ could reach and crept back to my
hole at the curtain. Crawford was
growing rapidly angry.
Give me that boyP' he cried rough
ly. "Get out of the way, Beatrice,
and let me have him" and he caught
her by the arm and dragged her from
the cot.
Arthur, Arthur! husband, sweet
heart Sue clasped both arms around
his neck, and raised imploring eyes to
his; but the sight OF the thin white face
only moved him TO greater wrath.
'.It is all your fault have not made
you strong long ago." he exclaimed
irritably. "You never laugh now, and
you can't sing, and you won't dance"
Dance! Oh, yes, i can. Look, Ar
thur" She drew back rapidly toward
the cot, speaking in her ordinary quiet
voice. 'You shall do what you like
with BERTHE; was only joking. Only
we must have our dance first, you
know
With sudden movement she stoop-
ed and liftedt the sleeping child from the
bed, talking all the time in an arch mer-
ry voice, that still retained its old pow
er over the poor madman.
Dance, Beatrice!' and he began
whistling. beating time with the dag
ger.
My life has shown instances of self
devotion in plenty. have seen proofs
of ready wit, and more of indomitable
| pluck; but have never seen them so
marvelously combined as on that terri
bic night Instinct taught me what