The morning call., 1891-04-26
CHAPTER w

nothing to hinder his resumption of the
brush with Anna again posed in his studio.
And how nave you spent the half-year ?"
he asked in Italian. Dancing in tue
streets again ?"
''0h, no; 1 have neglected my we'll
educated feet and begun the education of
my head"
Not only the felicity of her speech, but
the earnestness of her manner astonished
the artist, and he found himself strangely
pleased to learn that she was no longer q
danseuse of the streets. Without seeking
to analyze his feelings, however, be piled his
brush.
Anna was in a peculiar mental condition.
She was not insane; her intellect was true
and clear. She bad fallen deeply and sin
cerely in love with the artist. 1t was a nor
NAL and wholesome passion; but she had
mon3manla-a hallncination. She believed
that Homer Glane had slain the third of the
soldiers concerned in the capture and killing
of Bianco. 1t was distinct in her imagina-
ton. Homer had waylaid the man in the
mountains near Amalfi, had stabbed him To
death, and thus had completed the vendetta.
My poor child" he began, when she had
told him, with kisses on his hands and vehe-
ment proteSiaiiOnS of gratitude
Then he eomprehended. Her trouble had
left one delusion in her mind H wonld
not try TO disabuse her of it. Indeed. he
was perplexed sufficiently by thoughts of
himself Was he true to his absent sweet
iiNRiOi w 40 HUb dttOWIUH llmSelf To de-
yelop passion for this Italian girl?
Another consideration had n weight which
IL was hard Tor him TO estimate He had
heard while in London that Margery was as
wicked as she had to him seemed guiIeIess.
and some evidence had been presented to
him by friendly hands. but he had angrily
tlouted it. Still was it this calumny. as he
deemed it, that was deterioratlng his love
for the fair English creature?
am in honor bound to repulse Annals
love-" he said 10 himself, land to be faith
fnl to Margery."
So he fancied that he was glad when Mar
gerry returned to the cottage in the suburb
of Florence Her presence would set him
right. Her enchantment would renew IT,
self and the other ones would be dfssipated.
mat was right, and 1t would, it must come
to pass.
1t was past sunset; the moon. two davs
old, hung like silver thread in the rose and
golden clouds. Margery Thorne was NOV
ing abont the little sitting-room of the cot
tage- The day had beer hot and close, but
with twilight cool, sweet wind came up
from the west and pulled ont the muslin
window-curtains and made the lighted can
dies Kicker and gutter little. She moved
them to a table that was covered with rose
leaves, which were spread out to dry, and
she smiled. The light would not fall too
slrongly on her lace from thatcorn should
Samson u. Hawthorne call; and she smiled
again and looked down at her simple whits
dress and little Ow-heeled shoes
Gould anything be better" she muir
INJURED Il might be TennysOn's Garden
er's Daughter"
She heard mans step in the garden. and
she went swiftly through the open window
on to the little briek-paved veranda, where
she stopped midway to hold back the long
sprays OF jasmine and rose, we'll knowing
that the light from the candles was making
halo in among the threads of her red
brown hair.
yes, that is Samson" she smiled to her
self. You are shorn of your rangth my
friend: though l haven't touched single
hair of your head"
The man came nearer. She reached out
her hands through the dim light to him and
murmured:
"Oh. am so glad you are come" and then
she drew back as though scared at her own
bnldness. and she lowered her eyes as the
mar, came swiftly up to her and grasped her
hands.
She gave a half-stifed cry. 1t was Homer
Glane.
She had nerves of iron, but for one little
moment they were shaken. She looked up
at him and gave an impatient sigh. He
must be got rid of, or he will spoil her game
with Samson q. Hawthorne. Coldly-all
trace of the well-acted innocence with
which she had deceived him gone-she
| leaned her head back among the roses, and,
| looking him straight In the eyes, smiled.
well, why have you come here?" she
asked.
Her coldness astounded the man. Six
months ago it would have been blow that
| would have well-nigh killed him.
Because" he said slowly. you are my
promised wife, and because Of foul SLAM
der that heard of you; one that must dis
| prove for the sake of your name; for the
sake of your womanhood."
The girl laughed, a mirthless, wicked
| laugh.
Tell me, " he said, whether you know
| this Dortrait?"
eyes indolently and looked at it. 1t was a
| portrait of young girl with her hand
| crossed over her breast, her face raised as
in prayer. and beautiful exceedingly.
| "Yes; know it; it is one of myself. 1t
| is called Magdalen. Where did you find
it?"
I'm mans rooms"
"He told you. did he not, among other
| things. that my name is not Margery Thorne
that l keep Partisan granddaughter. and
| that my intention In coming here was 10
| entrap Samson Hawthorne into a mar
| riage?"
He stared at her with horror in his eyes.
Is it some demon that has taken the shape
of the innocent girl whom he left?
| believe me, he told you the truth" she
| said, weary of the mans noble belief in
| her. II played my part well, did | not
| You see l wanted some one to assist me in
| practicing my role Of simplicity. You were
the only man available. and if you were fool
enough to believe in my acting blame your
self, not me. And now what will you do !?
Tell Samson Hawthorne what / am? No.
| you wont do that, because you love me in
| spite of all that you have heard See! you
| tremble like girl when 1 just touch you
| with my hand" And with n low, insoient
laugh she laid her cool, 1.-THE fingers on his
| and watched the effect of her words.
/ Ha trauhIed indaad brtri
| of aversion, and then he walked away from
her through the gardens and out into the
| street.
'"Good-byl'",, she laughed, 81 have caught
bigger fshP'
"Caught, but not landed" some one with
strong American accent quietly said be-
| hind her.
| She turned. 1t was Samson G. Haw-
thorne, who, with his cold gray eyes fixed
steadily upon her, continued:
| II found the entry door open: thought
wouldn't disturb any one by knocking. so
just walked in, and heard all you said to
| that man."
"It-it-was jokep she stammered. and
| then she tried to laugh.
We'll, it didn't sound like IL much" he
replied, and then slow quiet smile crept
| round his mouth and he said, 81 have the
| pleasure to wish you goodnight"
Two years haveelapsed. Margery Thorne
has disappeared from Florence, and from
out OF the lives OF her American and her
| English sultors. To say she Is also out of
the mind Of Homer Glane would be- more
than true, but she is only memory there.
and her absence from his heart has bee n
complete since the night of her self-reyeIa-
| ton.
| Homer is al work In his studio at Flor
ence. and Anna Canosa is with him. She is
not the Italian peasant in aspect now. how
| ever, but wears the dress and manners
| properly belonging to the wife of the nrns
| porous artist Two years of aIduous study
| have done much for her culture, and love
| of her husband has done even more to bring
| her into harmony with his life
About her hallucination that Homer had
| avenged Bianco, after the vendetta fashion P
| Well, she was firm in that belief for awhile.
| aud even yet 1t retains shadow. fnr-off.
| dream-ike hold upon her fancy. But for
| that bit of mOnomania she would not have
| permitted a new lover to take the Mace of
| the old one in her heart; and so. when
| Homer Glane offered himself to her. he was
oil Aoff IaOA dol. It'll