Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1888-07-14

ity, but It wore the seif-same look of triumph,
| and-a shrek burst from his paiing lips.
my Godi You are john Reyner!" he said
Gus laugh came with the words ssi holding the
light above them, and with the other boIy hand
mans breast the priest looked long and steadily at
his enemy and then drew hard breath. "Do you
know why saved your life?7 he asked. "Did you
lost my very food and sleep in my anxiety TO
listen 10 every puising OF your heart and TO win
you BACK from death7 Your life Is mine. 1t be-
Tae tones were low and equable. Had Jeanne
Mare peen listening at the door instead OF Sleep
have guessed at nothing wrong from the sound Of
her masters voice.
"You have robbed me OF all that made my life
IN place OF that other I, as might have been by
now, powerful, successful, beloved, that dream
self OF mine that died fifteen years ago, you have
past between me and the living world. You have
Inade me Pshaw! you won't understand. But
even you win understand this much. You never
spoke OF me or OF Paris at all In your delirium.
| chose you should condemn yourself out OF your
own mouth. that was all. / have been In your
anaS AL ni,i these years, and now you are In mine
His blue eyes widely distended with fear, his
1amp, imp hands resting open upon the coveriet,
paralyzed, his dry tongue clacking against his
| teeth. II was full minute before he could form
the question, and then 1t was gasped rather than
| spoken.
you, priest, will do this thing9r
mo. i. u man." said Monsieur lie Cure grimly.
In the long silence that follower he rose to his
| feet, and, setting the candle back In It's former
place, he began pacing the little roorn his shOul-
ders more erect, his Step more decisive. 1t were
as tnOusn with his nnal words he had cast on the
last remnant OF the hamperlng priesthood, and
had grown young again in his claim 10 his old
word How 2" broke the sudden stiffness his reply
was heralded by mocking laugh
why, man" he asked, "has the world proved
80 enchanting to you that you trembe at the idea
OF quitting IL? Have you visions or bloody knives
and bowls OF poison? You needn't be alarmed,
for assure you that dying under my roof win be
the most natural thing In the world. Letting you
worry yourself back in the fever-a slipped ban
dage-a little less care, and then while my faith
tient, Shall bury you. II l knew where-Old
Lucas was-I would ask him to the funeral"
The last words were spoken hesltatlngly, and
perplexed look came into his face. Since the
moment when he had been fascinated by the
shadow on the wall, Val Farlie had lain almost in
state OF coma, conscious Of nothing but an over
relief 10 The tension which had been binding him.
DICK Lucas had been gay, rackety young fellow,
OF whom Reyner had seen something In the old
Paris days, but the two men had never been more
tnan acqua1ntances and Fairlie felt sure that
ordinarily speaking his would be the very last
name ~ recur to the others memory. Was he
losing his memory, then, and becoming insane?
Or had he already been mad, on this point at all
events, for years? Suffering as he had suffered,
and living the life that he had lived, was quite
enough 10 make the man a mOnOmaniac 1t was
strange that this thought should be the one to re-
which he had fallen, but it certainly acted as
spur II he were perfectly sane, there was some
thing 80 diabolica, so CHASTITY in the idea OF
ing dying back life for tine sake OF tortur-
Ing before killing him, that his brain had refused
TO face the truth and had grown torpid with the
enort, but with this second theory hope sprang to
HE AZ AIN. He might outW1t him, or he might per-
suade MIN To relinquish his purpose by counter
feiting u courage he could not feel He was not
even IN outward form at all q religious man. and
probably he had not said prayer during the last
dozen years, but in the extremity or his need the
I'm rye OF his lost wife came fOrcibly before him.
anu, not knowing that he did SO. he murmured her
That unconscious appeal to the dead woman
whom DOTH these men mad loved was succeeded by
another or those long and terrible silences, and
then the priest spoke again. He had come to
sttndsttll at the foot OF the bed, ana now con-
ironted ITS occupant with his arms folded across
bis breast.
isabel is dead" he said, speaking slowly and
sadly and without trace or his former airy tones
Il thought could do It, but was wrong. Had
she been alive must have let you 60 / would
not break her heart, although she helped to break
mine"
mo, / don't suppose my death would AFFECT any
one very MUCH" returned Fairlie, surprising him.
self by the Tranquil way 10 which ne spoke and
watching his listener very 1ntently, "except, or
course, my little g1rI-Isabel's child"
"ISa0ePS chid7' the hoarse, eager echo followed
instantly on his words. and the still figure sprang
into sudden life. "What did you say?" his face
flushing his hands ouIstretched, "Isabels enid
DID Isabel !eaye a child?"
"Yes, girl Another Isabel" With the double
glan priest, and that his own hours virtually
numbered, Val Fairiie seemed TO have passed
through the bitterness OF death, and all fear had
now left him. II even struck him. in the curious
analytical fashion in which the sub-current or this
mans thoughts were wont to run, as a pathetic
touch OF unwrftten poetry that now his wre was
no longer able TO shield this worthless, ENJOYABLE
husband OF hers. II SHOULD be her little daughter
on whom the task devJlved.
"Didnt you look at my knapsack?" he contin-
ued "Ihe heavier luggage was sent on 70 Dinant
out suppose the knapsack Was found with me,
wasn't II? lSa's photograph Is in It,"
taking out knapsack, brought 1t TO the bed
Il knew who you were, So there was no occasion
to look over your property" he said, briefly.
II beg your pardon" said Fairlie involuntar.ly,
wondering at the Old gentlemanly instincts which
f 9ltissted such an exile and then he unfas-
Isabeps Child" he ad1e1 placing a plush-framed
photograph In the priests open palm.
The apparently simple words Were Carefully
chosen. He Was anxious to keep that one fact well
before the others eyes,
Monsieur lie cure took the picture and carried it
TO the light 1t showed him the face OF a ten
years child, with large innocent eyes an long
curly hair-Isabel In miniature. so this was her
CHILD IL was long time before he could get the
fact into his tired brain. Strange that he had
never thought OF Isabel as a mother never met
ured her with the soft cling1ng fingers OF little
bosom. His own lost DIRE ms OF a possible father
hood came back TO lin as he looked How ne
would have watched 80 that no cloud ever rested
'Of course, my death Will make her very wretched
for a tim >" Val Fdirlie was speaking again: "but
for Isabers sake know you Will make the child
your charge"
%?-IfS The priest came hastily to the bedside
his voice ringing shrily: Il shall never see the
child shall be the Last person on earth who can
ever go to her," A
81 don't see that" replied Fairlie coolly tbouob
his heart beat almost 10 suffOcation. "As you saw
no one Will ever know you killed me. she must be
your charge. 1t Is what you will owe to Isabel II
you rob her little girl Of her father"
IVY charge. Yes, my charge" Monsieur lie
cure had seated himself again in his former place.
and now was repeating the words vacantly not
once, nor twice, but dozen times. Suddenly he
stopped, as though conscious OF his own action
and stole side look at his companion. s.Let us
talk business" he said abruptly, with an evident
EFFORT TO concentrate his thoughts. slow would
your death materially affect your daughter?"
las chnQ II would OF course Only make her
miserable. don't pretend TO shine In many WAYS
bat DO as father, and IL Is not my fault II isa
sun misses her mother never go home Without
taking her toys and sweets; all The brightness of
her life comes from daddy But. as I say r. is
when she grows Older that she will feel IL most
have made lot OF money, but I'VE saved moth
Ing, and Isabel must turn out and work. She will
be Just the age her mother was when you 1rst saw
her, aud they Will be as much alike as two rain
drops Can't you imagine how the little head
VIII droop under the burden, how the gentle ewes
VIII Nil with tears when she is treated nafshly or
lnsulted because she Is pretty, and because she
stands alone? You must 60 10 her sometimes
!StDeis chld Will not know 1t Is to you she owed
the trouble and the misery which came upon her
That 1t was you"
broken, tnarticuate cry burst from the nriest,s