Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1893-05-20

dHOTu W LiahV bAS ShcASN' AAbS ~
pleaseth."
you'll have your hands full, my dear
when this young lion of Dedan wakes"
81 depend on you to help me-for {
time. I must have the play-and Others
l must keep him near and yet far?"
'sBut you intend to cure him?"
"Yes, in due time, thoroughly; the
sooner after we get to London the better
unless matters run with perfect ease ant
he remains in comfortable innocence"
"But for the present."
"For the present, here he is; an inter
esting man with wonderful eye, isn't
hes And such touch Of poetical as
ceticism!'
Then she ran forward, with a quickly
summoned color and fine glow in hel
eye, to meet Francois Lombard. To him
the world was spinning with Joy. Fol
the old austere life, broken, only by the
stately gaudiness of professional and
shrine, here was beauty-and art--deve.
Hoped to the fifth degree; perfumes, the
delicate swish of silk, being that his
arms ached for-and that day passionate.
ly clasped.
"The Empty Cruise" was bought for q
song and new play was drafted before
the vessel reached England.
Only just before they arrived the con
venient sister made Francois know that
the SO girl-like Alicia Seaburn had a
daughter as tall as herself. 1t was done
very daintily, and when he saw how the
mother and daughter were PRETTY de-
voted to each other he said to himself
that she was invested with new and
gracious chfRn. He did not feel hurt be-
cause she said that for while she could
see little of him; that she had much to do
in her home and in ways of business. that
she must go on the continent for u little
while-it was world of work and social
duties; but no must call, say, on Sunday,
a week hence. Meanwhile she would take
the play and put it into rehearsal. He
must remember that she would always be
of him always. 1t was fr:rver.
she said. She could never change.
She was reckless in her ardor. Yea, oil
course, she would write to him. A hit of
her hair? Surely. Meanwhile, he must
SEQ London. She would send friend to
look after him and make him comfortable.
If it was possible he must come and dine
with her and her dearest child, Dora, be-
fore Sunday; but to be patient and enjoy
himself.
And, for the last time, she kissed him.
It did not look like tho beginning of a
cure; yet it was SO.
She had the face OF an angel. More
chan one painter had begged to put that
face CD canvass and had done so at large
,osts-it is an awesome thing to play with
4 human soul
She had promised to write to him; to
'end---foolish young man!-that lock of
lair. She asked him to dine, however.
Strange to tell, Angus wrote the note of
invitation from the theater) saying at
The same time that Miss Seaburn was not
very well, but hoped to be better imme-
iliately.
Francois had been brought up in an
Fashioned school-Father Lavarre
was ,punctiious as to form in social
things, little as he mingled in society.
Francois wondered that Angus should
was her sister or daughter.
But that was small thing to bear against
The greater bulwarks of his alteration.
He saw London, he got the fever of his
new play upon him, he worked hard at it
with her pictures on the table beside him
as he wrote. He wished that it bore her
name in her own neutrality-suspicious. little
things please lover. He remembered,
she said, when she gave it to him that she
would write on it at another time. She
would come and see him at his chambers
in London--with her daughter - and
would write it then If she saw that he
gave it place of honor. But men, men!
She shook her finger at him playfully.
She knew what they we're; would he be
true? She secretly rejoiced at the earn
estness of his reply--it was an artistic
that voice, that tone in acting!
He dined with her. Angus was there.
Angus talked much to the sister aud
yet watched him with n pensive
amusement. He was constrained, yet he
could not tell why, to look at Angus a
great deal. In the course of the evening
he talked in low tones to her, saying how
long the days were without her, but that
she was with him always, and that he was
living under her inspiration as he wrote
the new play. London? She was Lon
don-everything! As he said this he
looked up and caught q strange. look in
Angus eye. He saw quick, inscrutable
message pass between the two. He did
not sleep that night; still he trusted. The
rehearsals of "The Empty Cruise" began.
He was asked not to come until they had
got it we'll rehearsed. Then any sugges-
lion he might make would be considered
at moro ease. He spent that Sunday
evening, after dinner, at her house. Angus
was there. Again lie had a sleepless
night. Something had got into his brain
some vague, disturbing thing, which
began to wear upon him in the day time
also.
Yet he trusted her implicitly, he said to
himself, though she never wrote him a
line; whatever might happen, there
would be no written word of hers in
ais hands. But he did not think then of
happening. What should hap
pen?
Presently when he called at her house,
she was never in. At the theater he only
saw her in the presence of people. One
lay, at last, he found her at home. He
said he knew she was busy and he did not
wish to be always in her way, but he want
sd to be assured of her love Il II
WINGED as he said it, it seemed 80
much like sacrilege--she had not kept her
promise. With her finger on his lip she
bade him hush; that some one
was in the adjoining room and there were
only the curtains between. He left with
an indefinite horror upon him. 1t came
even as she clasped her hand warmly and
in tender tones said: swat until after the
tirst night of your play, dear; and them
she whispered-"then dearest!"
Seven weeks had gone. The new play
was almost written. "The Empty Cruise"
was ready. The night was announced.
But Francois Lombard, the dramatist,
looked as if all Joy had drained out of his
life. Every inquisitorial instinct in his
head suddenly sprang into life; the hor-