Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1891-10-23
PHdsNIX BRATTLEBORO. FRIDAY, OCTOBER %, 1891.

stands half-ruined archway. 1t can be
reached by two streets running parallel AMI
within stones throw of each other. As
l passed under it the beggar, to my aston
ishment, started up as if from the ground.
He had followed me.
"You are the painter, sehor?'
eyes"
"And Manuers friend?'
Certainly; where is hep
He glanced cautiously about, and took
a scrap of paper from inside the band of
his hat. 1t bore this inscription:
IL am in trouble; follow the beggar.'
The old man looked at me fiXedly, turned
sharply, and retraced his steps through the
arch. My decision was instantaneous; !
would find Manuel at all hazards.
The way led across the plaza of the
bull ring, through the market, up the hill
past the little mosque-now the church of
Santa Maria, the one with the red marble
altar-and so out into the suburbs of the
city, the beggar keeping straight ahead and
never looking behind. AT the end of
narrow lane dividing two rows of old Moor
ish houses the mendicant tarried long
enough for me to come nearer, glanced at
me meanngly, and then disappeared in a
crack in the wall. followed, and found
myself in a square patio, overgrown with
weeds, half choked by the ruins of a
fountain, and surrounded by a balcony
supported by marble columns. This bal
cony was reached by stone staircase. The
beggar crossed the overgrown tangle
mounted the steps, swung back heavy
green door with Moorish hinges, and wait
ed for me to pass in. | drew back. The
| folly, if not the danger, of the whole pro
ceeding began to dawn upon me.
81 will go no further; where is the man
who sent your
The beggar placed his fingers to his lips
and pointed behind him.
At the same instant a blind opened eau
tiously on the floor above, and Manuens
face, pale as a ghost, peered through the
Stats. The beggar entered, closed the
heavy door carefully, felt his way along a
dark corridor, and knocked twice. A
| shrveled-up old woman with a bent back
thrust out her head, mumbed something
to the beggar, and led me to an opening in
the opposite wall Manuel sprang out and
seized my hand.
II knew you would come. Oh, such a
scrape! The police searched for us half
the night. But for old Bonita, the beggar
here, and his wife we would have been
caught. 1t would kill my father if any
thing should happen now. See, here is his
letter saying we can come home. Oh,
am so grateful to you! You see it was this
way. 1t was Florita's night and -
My heart turned sick within me. Florita'
night! If the poor girl only knew.
Don't say another word, Manuel; you
are in a scrape, and l will help you out
but don't lie about it to me Of all men. II
you love the dancer, all right; breaking a
carafe over a fellows head in a cafe, and
all for pair of ankles may he
Lie to you, senorr said Manuel, flush
ing angrily, and with certain dignity
had not seen in him before; Il could nev
er lie to you. You do not know
Il do know
"Then Bonita has told you?'' and h,
looked toward the bcggar
Bonita has not opened his lips. / saw
it all with my own eyes, and You ma!
thank your lucky stars that YOU were no
sliced full of holes. What would Florit'
say?"
"Florita? All, l seer' said Manuel
springing forward, pushing open the door
and calling out "Florita. Are you there
Come quickr'
A hurried step in the adjoining room
| anu q young yin 'diIt lullhlll- III
1t was the dancer!
"What could do, senior? What woul
YOU do if your own wife had been so in
suited? See how lovely she is And h
kissed her on both cheeks.
What would have done? What woul
You have done, my friend, with tina
startled shrek in your ears, and that fright
, ened face appealing to you, her great eye
wet with tears her white arms held out t
/ you?
My hair is not quite so brown as it wa,
and the blood no longer surges through IN
veins. | am cooler and calmer, and eve
phlegmatic at times; and yet had Florit
! been mine, / would have broken a carat
e over every head in Cordova.
e While he was calming her fears, kiSsin
D her cheeks and patting her hands, I'll
. whole story came out. Day after day h
had hoped that his father would relen
f One word from him, and then need nevt
- have known how the dainty feet of h
5 pretty young wife had helped them both I
+ live. This is why he had kept it from m,
That night a painter, with a pretty Spar
= ish cousin, and a servant carrying his coz
' and traps, occupied a frst-class carriae
d for Toledo. The painter left the train
> the first station out of Corlova, shoulders
I his trap and coat himself, and took I'll
night express back TO his lonely lodging
The servant and the sehorita went o
alone. When the train reached Toledo a
old Spaniard with white head and mu
tache pushed his way through the crow,
took the servant in his arms and kissed II
pretty cousin on both cheeks.
Then a high-springed old coach swa
If lowed them up.
}. f. H0pkiHSon Smith in October CeRtu.