Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-10-31

never met elsewhere such perfect social tact
/ and then she carried off the artist, leaving
strange couple truly to their fate.
81 beg pardon" said Mr.. Grant, "but
! Mrs. Powell neglected to mention your
name when she did me the honor OF present
| ing me to YOU One of nv weaknesses is
| speaking Very likely if l were a New
Yorker should not have to ask; but, being
a foreigner, perhaps it is excusable." F"
All this was said with perfect frankness;
and withal there was something so open and
winning about him that [ coald easily under
stand his popularity.
'Eyen were you New Yorker, Mr.
i Grant, replied, ''your ignorance of my
name would not be at all astonishing, for
! come from very selfeentered little city
| YOU NAV have heard of it?-Boston." I
then told him my name
| 1t seemed incredible that two persons
should be talking and laughing together
| to all outward appearance so careless and
unconcerned-and yet but three days be-
| fore to have met under such different and
| revolving circumstances. Surely | must
be laboring under some strange delusion, L
thought CHOW is it possible that this de-
lightful, refined young man can be com
mon thiefp'
While these thoughts were buzzing in my
head had to take my share in the light
chit-chat of the hour. / had almost decided
that it was case of mistaken identity, when
movement of his hand brought an odd ring
into view. 1t was a snake, loosely curled
about the finger The head was studded
with triangular turquoises. 1 could not be
mistaken-no-one in the center of the head
was missing.
"Will you pardon me, Mr.. Grant," 1
ssked, eff I take the liberty to admire your
ring? 1t is somuch more effective than the
ordinary close coiled make"
SIT was an idea of my own," he said: 'T
never saw one quite like it, viii take it
of, so that you may examine it closer.
"Thank you" replied, as 1 received it
from him. "Oh, what pityr'' 1 exclaimed,
'you have lost one of the stones.
yes, only few days ago. 1 have not
vet had time to have a new one cut You
see the shape is uncommon"
"I am afraid YOU will not find it easy to
match" remarked. as I,handed him back
the ring. "Perhaps, however, I may be
able to help you" Again I caught the
nervous contraction of his eyes, as L opened
a small silver box was wearing at my side.
1 paused a moment, glanced at his face,
which seemed a shade white, and then
dropped the missing stone into his hand.
1 shall never forget the look he gave me
it was that of wild animal brought to
bay. Every feature of his face seemed
changed. 1t is impossible to describe how
i felt L only know 1 looked him quietly in
the face, with cold smile, and said in meas
ured tones:
''You need not fear. I shall not break
nv oath, can you not understand that? But
no; what can you know about honor or the
sanctitv of an oath? 1 have given to you
TO it1- A
you can comprehend that?"
paused but he was still silent. There
was no look of defiance on his face; he was
humbled and abashed.
"Will you accept few words of advice
from a woman?" 1 asked at length He
bowed his head in acquiescence, and 1 con-
tinued:
"My oath was, never to try to bring you
to Justice, and never to inform against you
should We meet again. Still 1 can easily \
put my friends upon their guard without
breaking my oath: 1t will be my duty to
do so if YOU remain here. A word, look,
smile even might sweep you from the false
position in society you have so easily
gained. 1 advise you to leave New York
and America at once. 1t will be safer and |
wise. for you"
He looked at me for one long m&ent
and then rising, said:
''I am not worthy even to thank you for ]
the mercy you show me, the chance you |
offer me. / will do as you suggest 1 will |
leave America tomorrow. There is but j
one way can prove my gratitude to you, |
but one wav I can hope to make you believe |
that this night has folded down dark |
page in my life forever-and that is to |
leave with you proof of nv crime
My hands were in my lap; he dropped |
into one the ring and, before L could speak,
he had muttered a hurried "Goodbv."
turned and left the room.
Two days later I read his name in the list |
of passengers on the Servia. Often when |
came across that snake coiled away in my
Jewel box have wondered what had become |
of its owner. Never should L have told |
this story had I not chaDced on paragraph |
in the last London Grqphic. And even now
/ would not tell it did it not point so well |
the old moral, 'Tt is never too late to
mend.'
The paragraph refer to was in a vivid |
description of one of the Afghan skir-
mishes The English loss had been heavy. |
After an obituary notice of the officers who l
had fallen, came upon the name "John ]
Grant Beauchamp." L was struck by it, |
and read along eagerly:
''This young man, although but an
orderly, deserves mention. He was the |
elQeSG son OF the rev. Jonn beaucnamp,
vicar of Lawton- Valence, and Lady Mary
Salisbury, his wife. His youth was wild,
so wild that he disappeared for year, and
is supposed TO have been in America, under
an assumed name, The prodigal son re-
turned to England year ago, and volun-
teered. His record was so good, his duties
SO faithfully performed, that he was soon
nop-commissioned officer. In
this position-so unnatural to one of his
birth and breeding-he was beloved by his
companions, and respected by his superiors.
His end was noble and self-sacrifcing.
Throwing himself in front of his Colonel,
he received in his own breast the weapon
aimed at his commandments life. When his
companions were about to prepare a bundle
of his effects to be sent to his bereaved
parents at Lawton-V alence, they could find
little to send excepting his watch and a
washleather bag, worn about his neck.
They opened the bag and found within a |
small triangular turquoise. "A. II Piche7- |
ing iS NeU York Ad0e1tissr
THE Rev. George Hodges makes st. |