The Portland daily press., 1892-12-20

never be your wife now. When you are
cal,ner YOU would zdespise me-, as
should despise myself. for LENDING you
what was not my own. The money IS
in a dead hand. I dare nottouchit."
'sWhat do you mean, child?' the man
who laughed asked in hollow voices
s.what makes you talk Of dead hands''
Come near me, Kate, | will not give you
up 80 lightly; see, we will talk of other
things. Don't look so frightened; come
and kiss me, Kate; you are brave girl;
we'll forget that cursed money"
/ heard her creep back to her OLD
= place, heard her crying as women cry
after a tension of mind and heart has
been removed, heard him kiss her and
ask her forgiveness, and then, just as
the cold fear that held seemed to relax
it's hold. | feit-no, felt nothing, but
heard, close to me, now, in the silence,
movement of trembling, fumbllng
hand-a hand that sought something,
something secret, something that 1t
would grasp unseen.
The two were not speaking now, or
only in mur1nurs SO low that the NOV
ing hand which frmbled near me seemed
to claim my ear more than their words.
NV head throbbed with the tension OF
listening. all the blood in mekseemed to
be beating. there, tearing my heart stone
cold. Suddenly the cropping handSpassed
swiftly close to my faea: 4 felt the watt
of the parted air against my wet tenn
pies, and then heard "a cry-ah! such
q I11fa of
terror overmastering love, as the girls
voice shrieked:
mo, no, not that, not that; oh, father,
help! help-help!'
Help? Against what? What had the
girls eyes seen; what dread had forced
that bitter, broken cry from the poor
lips? At last leaned forward; | cried,
too, 'tHelp, help!' At least | think ]
did, but if any sound came from my dry
throat knew not; before me knew the
man bent over something, something
that moved little, that moaned, that
sighed softly. And after the sigh the
bending form lifted itself and muttered
and searched. | heard the hands tearing
at something; then heard quick ex-
| clamation, a rustic of crisp paper, and
then the door at my side was open. ri
felt the rain on my face, for a heavy
shower was passing over us.
The blessed rain! The comforting, COM
monplace wetness treasured Inc. | felt
my terror passing and even reached
hand. half heartedly shut the door, with
a feeling that had had a bad dream.
But some object was dragged against
it, was forced through it keeping it
open, until heard dull thud outside.
and then for the last time a harsh voice,
now in the doorway, mutter:
'.What devil drives me? There's the
| junction; 1 must leap!"
| The train slackened speed, the swing
| ing door fell into it's place slowly. as
| though released from the pressure of q
restraining hand, and looked up and
saw porter run forward as we steamed
| into the station.
| I caught at his arm as he came to the
carriage. | saw him look in my face
curiously.
care you ill, sir?" he asked "Your
carriage door was open; were you get
ing out?'
| / could not answer him.
"You hurt your hand, sir, suppose;
it is not safe to open the door too soon. :"
"My hand. No, 1 have not hurt it
why?'
managed to get the words out at last.
The porter looked at me again queer
ly. well, you were staring at it when
| came up as if you thought it would be
covered with blood or something like"
81 did, didr' Then realizing what
I was saying broke off. mo, no, it is
not hurt, but I am not well. I will stay
here an hour or so; cannot go on just
yet"
The porter seemed surprised, but
helped me out and then got out my
things. AS he did SO he exclaimed at
the state of the carriage:
"Who has been pulling this stuffing
out here? We're you alone, sir? This
looks queer. Somebody's been cutting
the cushion. l must speak to the sta
ton master"
But the station master was already
there. He had noted the delay and
made his way to the carriage, glancing
at me rather strangely and then looking
| into the commandment I had left