The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1893-08-25

! CASCpS lLO C6lbCt. oOo0
! eight o'clock Ann went to window
andllooked out on Bowling Green. She
gave q little groan of dismay. The
snow was falling heavily, in great er
mine flakes; and the lamps, in theil
white, fluffy trimmings, had quaint
night-capped look, droll yet melan
choly.
Suddenly Ann saw figure just
below one of these lamps. Her heart
stood still with pity for an instant.
The face on which the light fell was
all pallor and deathly WEAKNESS, but it
+ was face in which youth could plainly
be read.
Often in those days Bowling Green
was very quiet after nightfall. Ann
saw that the woman, in her dark shawl
and plain bonnet, was SO i'll and feeble
on the pavement and lie there help
! less for some time before a passer came.
She never thought of drunkenness; the
fair. clear-cut, illumined face, so white
and piteous, was too refined for sus-
picion of vice to invest it. Besides,
here was a forlorn fellow-creature of
her own sex needing aid, and that
meant great deal to Ann Van Nos
trand.
She acted through impetuous feel
ing, and was out OF doors in trice. 1t
was not hard to get the weak and frail
young thing into her front parlor, and
make bed for her on one Of the
lounges. But she had staggered and
tottered terribly before this feat was
achieved, and she sank down with a
great, tired gasp on the pillows Ann
hastily piled for her, at once closing
her eyes.
Was it death or slumber? How fear
fully pale she seemed! Ann thought of
Mrs. De Peyster. NO! no." she con-
cluded: ''Aupt elizabeth is always SO
nervous; l won't let her know" Still,
if the girl should die like this-here, in
her own house! What would people
say, in that event? ''Ought I not to
send for doctor?" unused Ann, as she
began to chafe, with compassionate vio-
lence, the slender, half-frozen hands.
This action produced in the sleeper a
strange effect. Her eyes did not I'M
close. but plaintive, murmurous words
left her lips. And presently these
words. which at first had seemed quite
disjointed and aimless, grew articulate.
And soon Ann heard, with dismay, even
horror:
angus! Angus Pomfret! I'm your
wife, and you know it. II was mar
ried to you fairly and truly at Holmhill
church
Ann Van Nostrand felt herself turn
as pale as the speaker by whom she
knelt. Her gaze instinctively searched
the left hand of the sleeping woman.
There was the wedding-ring, possibly
chung to amid dire straits of perjury.
''Will she speak AGAIN." thought
Ann. The girls heart was beating
with wild strokes, and her head gid
Oily whirled.
Angus" again came the weird,
drowsy, sorrowful voice; you left me,
and L followed you. Oh, that
dreadful ship! But II didn't care
IL was i'll, SO i'll; but didn't care.
kept this little picture of you here on
my breast, and II kissed it when the
pain was tiercest, and that gave me
strength. And now that I've found
you, Angus-found you in this bleak
land, where the snow is falling. falling,
all the time, and where the darkness is
dark as my despair once was-you'n
. . . you'll tell them l am your
wife, Angus, will-you-not? You'll
take me-baclz, and you'll be good to
me once again? -
Then the voice of the dreamer died
away. Ann had risen. Both her fallen
hands had clenched themselves. But
presently she raised one of them and
let it slide with quick, stealthy soft
ness into the front of the PROSTATE
woman's dress. Quite soon she found
something -there-a ]ocket with one
glass-covered side. A single eager
glance served to tell her whose face
was meant by the faded little dagurreo-
type under that giimmering oval.
Perhaps she might have cried aloud
in her anguish, if new emotion had
not swiftly beset her. Whatever i'll
ness the poor wanderer had been al
hicted by, wrought now its final
strokes A faint muffied scream-a
sudden opening of the dilated eyes-a
shudder, a speedy and grayisb change
of the entire visage. and all was over
Ann Van Nostrand had learned by I'M
answerable tokens that she was stand |
ing beside one who 10 longer lived.
For all that she was now aware ten
or fifty may have elapsed. But |
at last something reused her from the |
awful apathy. 1t was a ring at the bell |
of the street-door. She remem bered, /
with an icy thrill. then. that Angus
Pomfret was to have come that evening .
the last they should spend together as
betrothed lovers-the evening that |
was to have preceded their bridal day.
She passed out into the dim, quiet |
hall and opened the door. He entered. /
stamping the snow off his boots. He |
kissed her in the vague light. and (.
said something about the horrid wealth
er, laughing, as he said it, his genial
laugh.
Come into the parlor," said Ann.
Her voice sounded odd to him. De hung
his snow-besprent overcoat on the old
fashioned hat-racl, and followed her
whittier she had gone.
The dead woman lay on the lounge.
Ann stood at her side Her face had
lost every hint of its wopted damask
freshness 4 certain scorcery Of tender
linting fed from it that night, and
never afterward returned
She pointed to the lounge. That is
the woman you married in England"
,he said Your cousin, Wilford. told
ne certain tale of your false faith