The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1886-01-23

instantly, VIII tle quick INSTINCT vi the
journalist. "Surely have seen that
face, but where?'
By and by, when they sat down to a
bountiful supper and were introduced
to the mother of the Children-haxen-
haired, rosy and plump-all through
the short evening that singular face,
dark as Spaniard's S, with no trace of
the Teuton in its features, puzzled and
fascinated him. He wondered that
Merrill, with his artists eye, did not
seem to notice the incongruity, but
chatted away with the children, who
had been readily won by sight of his
sketch book.
Among the pictures was one, the
rough outline of a battle. The little
girl looked at it with wide open eyes.
"Air them soljers?' she asked. Pop
was a soler once, but now he is sorry
it is wicked to fight and kill men,
So, then, he was right. This man
with the Latin face had been an alien.
Still, how came he here, a Dunkard,
wife? Even in his dreams the mystery
haunted him.
In the morning, after breakfast, their
host insisted on taking them to the
nearest stage station. He was going
to mill there, he said, his load was
light, his horses strong, with pardon
able glance of pride at the we'll fed span
harnessed to the spring wagon at the
gate.
Nor would he accept pay for the SER
vice. Indeed, it required some urging
to induce him to receive compensation
for their nights lodging, and even then
the amount was so small that it left
Dale dissatisfied. Somehow he detested
any sense of obligation to this man with
the Latin face, an English name and
Pennsylvania Dutch religion.
Merrill spoke first, as they drove off
on the stage. II shall always be sorry
| couldn't sketch that farm house as we
saw 1t last evening"
Never mird, answered Dale. "You
have studies enough on hand already
to keep you busy all winter and more
then abruptly, Merrill, there's some
mystery about that man White. III
bet you five dollars he wasn't born a
Dunkard.'
Il won't take your bet laughed
Merrill. 81 know he wasn't
"Then how comes he to be one?
The fellow is educated. l found him
rea!mg the foreign news in the Herald
when | came down before breakfast
this notwithstanding it, not merely
looking over the paper. The Herald,
too, though there were half dozen
illustrated journals among those l left
on the table last night
"Perhaps he had looked at the pic
lures first" suggested Merrill. "These
country people rise at unearthly hours,
you know
eyes, but he was so absorbed that he
did not see me until l had been in the
room for several minutes. There is
some mystery about that man, know
Nonsense, Dale. The success Of
your play has turned your head and
you see plots in everything. The mys-
terry of this case is simple enough. The
little girle told me that her father was
soldier. Her grandfathers found him
wounded somewhere, took him home,
nursed him and converted him. Moth
ing strange in that, eh''
"There is, replied Dale, doggedly.
"No man who had mixed with the
world, no Frenchman especially, and l
feel sure that White is a French"oan,
could or would turn Dunkard without
some occult reason. | can't believe it
and | won't!'
"Then don'tp answered Merrill, good.
humoredly Make up just as dark and
dreadful plot as you like, and when
you write it, may it make your fortune.
1t was months afterwards when
Dale walked into his friend studio.
He had been in Washington all
winter as correspondent OF daily
newspaper.
"Well, Merrill he said, when the
: first greeting and questionings were
over, 81 have found Anthony White.
!, "Who? which? where? when?'
asked Merrill, in bewilderment.
! ''Anthony White. Have you for
5 gotten the mysterious Dunkard into
5 whose house the rain drove us last
| September in the Virginia mountains
Well, | have found him in the rogues
: gallery. No wonder he was glad tc
, hide as Dunkard or anything else
after the galleys at Toulon. He was
, sent there in 81, in '63 he escaped
and was traced to America, where
: he disappeared. But the folly of il
it is like the ostrich hiding his head
| in the sand. Think! He has merely
| translated his name instead of chang.
ing it! Antoine lie Blanc-Anthony
White Could anything be more
| idiotic?'
He paused for an answer, but Mer
rill said nothing.
"Well? somewhat impatiently.
"Poor devil!' calculated Merrill
Then he added:
care you sure all this is not con-
lecture? What proof have your
proof Plenty of it. First, the
man is French, no doubt of that
IL L