Daily Yellowstone journal., 1891-09-12

he Will soon lose what lutte fortune we
have as well Oh. Lucia, ! don't o
der you look in~credulous. But you
must know il sooner or later"
go after him." I cried, starting up.
bring him back. Oh. don't let him
drift TO ruin like thisl"
I've tried it," she said in a low,
monotonous voice. 1T is Of no use.
He pays no heed to me-"
But. Belle. what is TO be donef'
Il don't know" she said, rocking
herself back and forth like one in NOR
tai pain. God help me, | do not
know. There are times when ! think
must go frantic. He loved me once.
He was true and noble and high hearted
once. And what is strangest Of all.
there are times when he seems TO o.
into his true self for a few hours. Some.
times al night when | pray to him on
my Blended knees. in the early dawn
when the sound of cattle bells on the
mountain rOuses him from slumber.
hi, better nature seems to come back
to him. but only for a brief. brief
while. and then the fever flame seems
to burn again IN his veins. Oh, Lucia,
[ am the most wretched woman i'm the
world Oh, | wish that ! were deadV'
Cheer up, Belief" soothedL Polly
will know what % do. Wen take
counsel with Polly"
Polly advocated no half measure.
She had "A genuine New Englend horror
Of gambling in all its forms.
Il never would have come TO Mona
co. said she, IF I'd known what sort
of a place il was. Will you go away,
Belle, all Of usl Wen take "A look at
the south Of France and then go home. +"
There are gaming houses every
where, said Belle, deisctedly. And
you'll find that he will not leave Mona
CO."
HE shall leave it, said Polly, com
pressing her lips.
Polly wasa Maine maiden who feared
nothing in the heavens above or the
earth beneath O the waters under the
earth. She penetrated valiantly into
the glittering ring Of destruction and
marched up to st. Cyr Snat very night.
Charley, come out, she whispered
Come with mel"
He looked al her with cleaning eyes
and cheeks dyed deep red
Don't speak to me now" he said
Cant you see that the luck is chang
mgr She drew resolutely away.
Come, | sayi" she cried. stamping
her foot.
Just then some one back of him
reached frantically over his head, beck.
oning 20 Monsieur lie Croupier," and
IN his gesticulations knocked of St
Cyr's beautiful wavy tressed toupee. II
fell among the crowding feet under the
| table. There was "A m%onentary silence,
then a general peal Of only half sup
pressed merriment St Cyr looked
vaguely around Then he bit his Zip
and receded from the crowd.
You are right, Polly, said he. 81
have no business here. Oh. confound
the wigi' as a fantastically dressed page
would have restored il 10 him 1t
makes my head ache and keeps me in
a fever. Do I look very bad. Cousin
Polly. with my OWN hair jus. beginning
to grow outf
NO" said Polly. you look like
yourself You never seemed like oul
Charley in hat curly mass of locks
Let me have it, I'll take il home and
give it to old Antonio at the hotel.
And Belle could scarcely credit bel
eyes when she saw Polly come in
leaning triumphantly on St. Cyr's arm
You are my guardian angel. Pollyl'
she cried
st. Cyr passed his hand slowly Owe
his forehead.
THAT toupee always made my head
ache" said he. do you know. /
seems to me asif | had been in a dream
and was only just awakened. Yes
fling it away. Polly. I'll never wear 1
againl"
Polly carried the wig home 10 the Lit
tie hotel where we occupied inexpen
sive rooms. Old Antonio, the porter
was very bald and flies tormented him
"See. Rosa" said my sister to hi
blooming granddaughter, here is some
thing to keep the grandpapa's head DIR.
and warm. My cousin does not need !
any longer and
Rosa, a trim, tall maiden, with eye
like pools Of wine and a rich olive skin
took the wig and looked at it a second
"Madre di Dial" cried she, ashudde
convulsing her frame. THE saint
forbidr" And, turning around, sh
flung it on the dim fire that burned il
a cracked stove close by. There was
smell of burning hair, an upward GLOW
Of purplish fiame-then a few writhinI
ashes.
DO you know whose hair it isr sh
said. mo, but do. was in Matte
Giglio's shop on the Via Madre whel
the American signor bought il. N
one in Naples would wear that hair
Histl 1t is the hair Of the Confess
Vareda-the maddest gambler in al