The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1893-11-23
WORTHINCsTON ADVANCE.

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NJ WATCHED BIN bsSS ont q dS6t 6 !
turn Of the shrubbsry. n.
well" said aloud 70 myself. that
certainly IL about the most astonishing
feature yet Of this remarkable business.
In one instant the colonel declares with
m emphasis which leaves little doubt Of
his earnestness that he hates and loathes
Portia, and in the next cries out to her
in accents imploring enough to melt q
heart Of stone. Ny private opinion is
that the entire Marchmont family is
voodooed." l.
L AT dinner that evening particularly
remarked Portals beauty. Never had
she been so radiant. Her eyes glittered
a. If she had been drinking champagne,
and her cheeks glowed like roses. /
could not keep my eyes from her fasci-
mating face and grew more and more in
censed at the cold, silent man who re-
garded her 80 indifferently. .ss~. ....t
After we had gone into the drawing
room bethought me Of book in which
l was greatly interested, and excusing
myself went into tho library to find it.
Returning few minutes later, l was the
forced witness Of most painful scene.
The door between the rooms was open,
and as l approached l saw Portia steal
up behind her husband with look Of
longing on her face. The colonel was in
tent upon his newspaper and did not
perceive her until she put both white
arms about his throat and tenderly laid
her cheek upon his head.
He sprang from his chair as if SER
pent had stung him. Turning. he con-
fronted her with an awful face. white.
stern, contemptuous.
GLOW dare your" he said in low
voice, vibrant with hatred.
"Oh, Jermyn, forgive me! Love mo
after all. lam your wife, begged Portia.
Eyes, have not forgotten that intol-
cradle fact" replied Colonel Marchmont,
with studied coldness Then he hurried
from the room.
Portia came flying toward me like
whirlwind. Her eyes blazed. With one
clinched hand she struck at her heart.
prudence" she cried, che will kill me.
But first
She broke off and burst into demoni-
acal laughter. Then, calming a bit, she
continued: mo, will not tell you. you
soft little mouse, what | will do. Jer-
myn Marchmont shall know one day
what he has accomplished tonight"
"Portia, what is it?' asked What
is this mystery which surrounds you
Instantly saw that look Of cunning
spring to her face.
"Mystery!' she repeated almost gayly.
Absurd There is no mystery My
husband has simply wearied of me.
Nothing very mysterious about that, is
there?" and Selling me around the waist
she waltzed me up and down the hall.
AS soon as could disengage myself
from her embrace stepped back. But
Portia went on dancing. She looked a
veritable Moenad as she whirled and
waved her white arms and tossed back
her disheveled hair She was the most
graceful creature imaginable, but at the
same time there was something both
grotesque and frightful about the wild
dance in which she INDUCED. Her face
grew wicked, her pastures audacious.
All could think Of was La Carmagnole
or the mad tarantella of one writhing
in death agony.
"For heavens sake. Portia, stcp!" l
cried at last.
She only laughed mockingly and
whirled faster than ever.
The door at the upper end Of the hall
opened suddenly, and her husband ap-
peared. The look of disgust that cross
ed his face sobered her. She stopped in
confusion and began nervously twisting
up her hair and arranging her draperies.
"Really, Portia," Colonel Marchmont
said disdainfully, II cannot admireyour
method of entertaining Miss Prudence.
Your dance is more suitable to the or
gies of Dead Mans swamp than to q
gentleman's house."
1t was a brutal speech, and it told.
Portia stared gloomily after her husband
as he went out upon the piazza, and
then, turning to me, said in an under
tone:
''You heard what he said? Well, since
he sends me to the swamp, I'll go. |
have work there, Prudence"
What do you mean?' l cried as she
fled up the stairs. But she made no an
swer. Only her haunting laughter Aoated
down. heard her slam the door of her
room and knew that in all probability
we should not see her again that even
ing, as it was the custom to take her
nightly leave in some such unceremo-
NOUS fashion.
Nor did Colonel Marchmont return. |
read an hour or SO, then went to my
room. l heard his heavy tread later as
he went to his apartments then silence
settled down over the great house.
l did not feel like sleeping. Some
influence oppressed me. At times
was conscious of a premonition Of i'm
pending trouble. Something was surely
about to happen. What was it?
It was nearly midnight when dis
tinetly heard distant door open and
shut. While stood intently listening
l heard soft footsteps gliding along the