The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-04-13

Was 10 Sal who was coming back' Surely
Sal never walked so heavily, so determined
~. Could it be Stephen Eyre. She glanced
wildly round the room. A little rushlight
was burning on the mantelpiece. She blew
it out and tried to lock the door, But the
KEY was rusty and would not turn in the
lock. Perhaps the intruder would not come
into this room. But Georges voice, b gh
and unmodulated in the fever-fit, would
guide any stranger to the place. He was
talking about Sorrento now, and the
orange groves, and the cloudleSs Italian
skies
20, hush, hush !" Jess cried aloud. in her
extremity. Darling, do not talk any more
just now"
But the sick man never needed her. He
babbled on, and the steps upon the stairs
came nearer and halted at the door. Then
there was pause.
Presently the door was slowly opened
from without. When it was only a few
inches aJar q face appeared at the aperture
"a wild, white face in which burned two
dark eyes glowing like Goals of fire.
Jess uttered faint cry. She knew the
face too well, and in that moment she hated
1.-THE face of Stephen Eyre.
Her old lover opened the door, and came
slowly into the room. Then he stood
looking at George Eastwood. At first he
did not seem to notice Jess at all. A slight,
crafty smile crept over his white face. Jess
saw that he kept one hand inside his coat,
in what seemed to her strange, unnatural
| way.
80 have found thee at last, o mine
enemy he said in low, strained voice.
jess sprang forward, interposing between
the two men.
HE is not your enemy. He has done
| you no harm.n
'He has harmed you. said Stephen Eyre,
| quietly; land he must die for it."
Madness cleaned in his eyes. jess won
| dered why she had never seen it there be-
FORE Mad yes, Stephen was mad, as she
now remembered that his father had been
| before him, and other relations before that
| What would the madman dos He had
withdrawn his hand from the breast Of his
coat, and she saw the glitter of knife.
she sprang TO the window and suddenly
flung it open, crying out "Murder Helpl
| Helpn in voice that rang down the street
with the shrill accent OF deadly tear. IL
seemed to her that some one answered in
| the street below; but s e could not look out
| for at that very moment Stephen Eyre flung
himself upon Eastwood, and the two men
were locked in q fierce combat. a combat
| for life or death.
Eastwood was reused from his half-un-
| conscious state by Stephen-struck by the
| glitter, perhaps, of the weapon in Stephens
I
| have left him, and be att clked Stephen as
| if he knew him and knew how deadly was
| the enmity lie bore to himself. Indeed, his
words carried out the idea. for he spoke to
| Stephen Eyre by uame.
II know youl / know you'll" he cried.
"You tried to rob me of my wifei But |
| will punish you yet"
And / will punish you," said Stephen.
They reeled about the room together,
| locked in that terrible embrace. Stephen
was strong, but George, upborne by the
| stress of fever. was stronger yet. He had
| pinione1 Stephens arms so that the man
| could not get his hands free, and as they
| wrestled the knife was wrenched from
Stephens fingers and fell to the ground.
But at last, as they neared the window, il
seemed as If Georges strength was about to
fail. He staggered violently against the
crazy window-sill. Stephen flung out Wig
orously to save himself, and then the whole
wIndow-frame gave way, and Eyre, losing
| his balance, went crashing through the
panes.
lie might have recovered himself but for
wild push given TO him by George he
| slipped again, but clutched the window-sill
he did not cry for his hands. He did not
speak, he DID not cry for help. He looked
| up silently and met Jess eyes. They
| looked at each other for a moment, which
seemed to Jess, perhaps to both, an eter-
| nity.
A little help, little agility and courage,
| and he night have clambered back TO
safety. Neither agility nor courage was
wanting, but the help that was necessary
was not there. George, fighting and strug.
| Cling still-he knew not with whom nor
| with what-could not render him assistance.
| And jess was perhaps too weak TO more
| than cling to her husbands arm and beg
| him to come away.
The knife glittered temptingly on the
| floor. George Eastwood picked 1t up and
| waved it in triumph round his head. But
it was Jess who cried out, "Give it to me-
| o, give it to mel" and snatched it, or tried
| to snatch it, from him in that terrible mo.
meat of agony, when she was perhaps nc
more accountable for her actions than was
| George Eastwood himself.
A moment later, aud the body of Stephen
| Eyre lay. yet warm and quivering, upon
| the pavement in the snow-covered, silent
| street.
| TO BE CONTINUED.