The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1893-06-03


failure to support his wife properly had
led to temporary separation, that dur
ing that separation she had taken steps
to have her marriage declared null and
void, that subsequently she had reap
peared in society as Eugene Norcross'
splendor loving and dashing wife, that
at about the same period of time Fair
banks returned to the city, in improved
circumstances, but naturally consumed
with jealous hatred of the woman
who had tossed him aside like a misft-
ting glove, and the groundwork of the
tragedy was complete.
It only wanted the legal verbiage and
profound platitudes of contending coun-
sci to put this choice morsel into final
shape for rolling under the famished
tongue of public curiosity.
On the morning of the day set for his
trial, Sibley Fairbanks ate his break
fast with sullen stoicism. "It may pos
slbly be the last one shall have the
privilege of ordering to suit my own
TASTE" he said, with grim facetious-
ness, to Ida, pouring out his coffee.
white-faced, but steady of nerve and
resolute of heart "If it goes against
me,"-he cracked the shell of his soft
boiled egg with nice deliberations
''return at once to Glenburnie, with the
child. and-and--if Lorimer seeks you
in spite of all, don't repulse him, my
dear. Promise me that, will you not?''
She did not answer him. She was
. watching his deliberate movements
with strained attention, through film
that made him look grotesquely unfa~
+ miliar. Co.,,
"My poor Ida! my truest Of women!
my 1ion-hearted sister! you are not
going to break down now?''
"Sibley!''
She called his name in d husky
whisper Her voice seemed deserving
her along with all the other organs that
had been essential in that other world
she used to live in. She had needed a
voice once, when as girl, as woman,
she had breathed and moved in that
other world, at fair old place called
Glenburnie. But She had nothing in
common with that other girl, that other
world. She was turning to stone. She
was already petritied. Her heart had
turned to rock. Her tears were so
many hard, cold little pebbles. 1t was
more comfortable so. It helped her to
stand things. And there was SO much,
oh, SO much, to stand!
'Sibley!"
""Well3 I think answered you be-
fore, Ida"
''There is one question would like
to have you answer before-before--"
"My case is called?"
eyes"
"Well?''
"You have never said yet-never to
me, though of course know it. dear,
only I would love to have you put it in
words-you have never said, in so many
words: 4 did not do it, Not for the
lawyers-words mean nothing to them;
they are only pebbles for their sings.
But to me, Sibley, the sister who loves
you and whose heart you have broken"
She was coming towards him with
tender outstretched arms, her worn,
thin face all a-qriver with pain. He
put out repulsing hand before folding
his arms sullenly.
'sNo. have never put it into words
for you. did not know it was neces-
sary. Forgive me, child. every pang I
have cost you. asked the prison
authorities to let me breakfast with
you this morning, for knew what this
day would be to you, and l wanted, if
possible, to say something comforting
to you. Somehow. don't seem to have
managed very well. wish you had
some woman friend near you. wish
you had not come to the city with me.
It makes it harder for both of us. Will
YOU bring the child here and let me say
good-by to her? If it goes against me,
I shall not see either you Or her again.
l would not like you to come so close to
q convicted criminal
Her arms had fallen to her side like
lead. He would not put it into words.
It must be that he could MT. She tot
tered from the room to fetch Ninette.
In the darker hall she nearly stunt led
over the two prison officials who were
standing guard at the door of the room
where she and Sibley had just got
through with that dismal breakfast.
One of the men put out a rough hand
with kindly intent. He saved her fall,
fol. which she did not even thank him.
When she came back along the same
way, after hurried five minutes spent
In rousing Ninette and buttoning tiny
dressing gown over her nightdress. the
sentinels we're gone. So was Sibley.
He had scrawled message on an enve-
lope and left it on her napkin.
81 have taken the easiest way for
both of us. If do not come back to
you tonight leave at once for Glen
burnie. wish you had some woman
friend near you. AS for my little
daughter, Ida, all ask of you is to
make of her as true woman as my sis
ter is. She will send no man to the
dogs If you do that. =
She sat down on q comfortless chair,
which CHANGED to be close by the barred
shutters Of her one front window, and
clasped her long white hands behind her
heal There was nothing 70 do hut to