The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1894-07-18
THE PRIMA DONNA.
A Story Of Mystery, Love and
Devotion.
BY DAVID LOWRY.
CHAPTER v-fContinued.D

my uoIuO 1s INV NoAaASAAS ASSNo~'
is Beauchampe."
aYou are Carrick here, whatever you
choose to call yourself out Of this house."
~But if am not Carrick-if I am an
other person, what answer will you
make when you are charged with detain-
ing me here, as you will be? My friends
will not be idle, and some OF them are
Influential"
DR.. Varek smiled, and now for the
first time Beauchampe discovered that
the Doctor was cruel as well as crafty,
traits that usually 60 together.
Everybody that has entered this
house left influential friends outside;
have they not, Hawkins?"
Hawkins nodded. still keeping his
baleful eyes upon Beauchampe.
"And now, Carrick, it is immaterial to
me who you are-you are Carrick to me,
and as Carrick you shall be treated. II
you are not Carrick, who sat for this?"
The Doctor produced a small photo
graph and handed it to the artist, whose
eyes dilated as he gazed on it. He
turned the picture slowly over, and read
the writing on the back, in neat hand:
@From your true friend, Jas. Carrick." "
The photograph bore remarkable re-
semblance to Beauchampe.
He looked from the Doctor to Haw-
kins questioningly, and raised his right
hand solemnly, saying, "Gentlemen, as
hope to see heaven, that's not my
picture"
SDon't lie unnecessarily, Carrlck,
said the Doctor, tartly; II despise tho
silly liar. That is your likeness. 1t
was taken before you were arrested for
entering Bishop Dunn's residence. The
woman you gave it to sent you to the
penitentiary."
at is false!" exclaimed Beauchampe;
81 never looked in the inside Of an
American prison"
@You are capable Of anything, Car
rick. You tried to escape from Sing
Sing, and you paid the penalty-you
served three months for that You see,
Carrick, I know your record. But I
will make bargain with you. See that
bolt? If you will promise that you will
! not speak to any other person mere ex-
cept the attendants, you shall not be
chained to the bolt. Take your choice
Il give you three minutes"
The Doctor produced his watch, but
Beauchampe exclaimed on the instant,
II give you my word, sir" Then with
out uttering word, the Doctor and
Hawkins withdrew.
Beauchampe sat down on his bed like
man benumbed.
Now that he was alone once more, he
yielded himself to despair. Whether he
was, in truth, supposed to be James
Carrick, he realized made little differ
ence to DIR. Varek. Had he not said as
much in plain terms? But if it were
possible that they had seized the wrong
man, that he could convince them Of
their error, would they give him his
freedom? Would the Doctor jeopardize
his reputation by confesSing he had
immured the wrong man?
When Beauchampe recalled the sinis-
ter smile the Doctor bestowed upon him
and Hawkins CLASSY stare, he shuddered.
Would Livingston fly to his rescue?
What chance was there that his friend
would ever learn the truth? And his
sister-the very thought drove Beau
champe wild. He paced the floor rap
idly, interlacing his hands, and exclaim-
Ing at intervals passionately.
p Daylight faded away, and still Beau
champe paced his eoor. The horri-
bic cries that had disturbed him the
previous night again resounded through
the halls. Beauchampe paused suddenly.
and asked himself how long man could
preserve his reason in the condition he
was placed in. He tried to recall all the
stories of sane persons confined in mad
houses. He found himself specializing
upon the duration Of his life as mad
man. Then he resolved that, come what
might, he would be free in few days at
most A fortnight in the mad-house he
told himself would add ten years to his
life.
How long he paced his room he had no
means of knowing He was weary
when he laid down, and again he slept
with his clothes on, ftfully, starting up
when loud shrek burst from the mad
woman whose voice came from the end
of the passageway. The poor wretch's
cries sounded in Bearchampe's ears
months afterwards.
When the morning dawned, he sat on
the side Of his bed, rocking his body
sideways.
The mad woman's cries were rim ging
IN his ears, but now they were blended
with curses and blows.
Worse than all, the curses were uttered
by woman.
Beauchsmpe pictured this won as
she stood over her victim, beating her.
f, saw q woman with strong arms,
criminal-like eyes, and face lined with
sll the evil passions. He pictured this
woman with strident yoice-grasping her
victim by the throat and shaking her.
All this was vividly pictured in the
mad woman's pitiful protests and walls,
that grew fainter and fainter until,
finally. all was silent.
Don't for Gods sake, don't strike me
on the head! Ny God! My hair! Let
let me-get my breath. You will
choke me to DEATH"
When all was silent Beauchampe stood
mp shudderingly, and began to pace the
floor agan. lie was sure the day was
half gone before his door was opened.
Then the attendant who brought him
his food entered, carrying tin filled
with water and wooden bowl, i'll which
there was strange compound Of meat
chopped in pieces about the size Of Q
marble, potatoes, and onions
There was something elso, but whether
1t was dough. or bread soaked before its
admiXture with the meat and potatoes,
Beauchampe was unable to determine.
The attendant deliberately emptied
the contents of the wooden bowl into the
pewter dish that was lying on the floor,
placed the tin beside it, and was walk
Ing to tkn door, when Beauchampe SAID,
pointing to the pewter d sh:
aAm I to have neither spoon nor
knife? I cannot kill myself with Q
spoon"
The attendant did not even vouchsafe
l.. l,,% l1rxn al