The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1895-10-17

savage instincts lurking IN his breast.
Brave, loyal, straightforward himself,
how could he dream of the treacherous
cruel blows one little soft white hand
was capable of dealing?
4 Violet found this sturdy, brawny
ranchero delightful study, and de-
i cided he should be the hero of her next
novel. His quaint wit and poetic fam
cies born of the mesas and mountains,
his forcible and often ungrammatical
speech were faithfully noted; his emo
lions were played upon, his heart was
probed. And he never dreamed he was
being experimental on. He loved this
exquisite creature, this dainty, soft,
purring beauty, as he loved his life.
He coveted her and longed to shut her
close to his big, faithful, honest heart.
At last came the night when Violet
carried her passion for atmosphere"
and local coloring'' to it's climax. They
had gone for their customary evening
butte to a broad ledge of rocks. At
their feet yawned the canon, tremen-
dous, awful black, save where the
moonlight touched the opposite wall
with ghostly fingers. Back of them
doomed the range like the battlements
of phantom city. While far, far be-
| low sounded the faint rushing of water
the river tumbling and foaming along
over it's rocky bed.
what weird place." cried Violet,
with pretty shudder, "and what a
ghost-like night. Why did we never
come up here before, Jack? What a
scenev
Weatherby was lying at her feet
where he had thrown himself to rest
after their climb.
He turned his face, white in the
moonlight, toward her, and fixing his
dusky, unfathomable eyes upon her,
said:
ST kept this place for this hour.
meant to bring you here when | got
my courage to the point where I could
say all that is in my heart. Many
time down there" pointing to the
ranch lying below, II have looked up
here and thought of the time | would
bring you to tell you how I love you"
For one instant Violet felt queer
little thrill. The simple dignity of his
declaration almost moved the worldly,
cold blooded girl Then she thought Of
her local coloring.
What situation for my novel;" she
said to herself; then aloud, gently:
$50 you really love me, JACKIE"
Love your" he echoed passionately,
as he rose and sat down beside her,
"Violet, look" taking her hand, my
heart lies here in this dear little hand"
Then throwing all reserve to the
winds, he seized her and kissed her
madly, tempestuously.
| She struggled to free herself and at
| length succeeded.
"How dare your" she demanded.
show dare"
How dare II" he cried. "Why, dear
est, love you'll love you, do you hear?
And you, you love me little, do you
not?"
He was approaching her again, when
she said contemptuously:
''No, not bit. I have simply been
studying YOU"
| He stood as if turned to stone.
"'Studying me-" he said, in a queer
voice, ing-why-why?" he saw
agely demanded, as he caught her
wrist and held it in an iron grip.
''You were so different she faltered,
bit frightened by his sudden ferocity.
"I wanted a new type for my book, you
know. I suppose Tom told you write
books"
An absolute murderous look swept
over Weatherby's face.
NO. he said, mo one told me that.
So you write books? And you wanted
to put me in twas that it? Answer
me, answer mer'
EYES," she murmured, family.
"And that was all? You never loved
me-never meant to marry me?"
f'Why no, how could I? I am to be
married in the fall to a man in New
York"
A snarl like that of an Infatuated
beast interrupted her. Livid with
rage he sprang toward her. Once again
he crushed her, shrinking and trem-
bling, to his breast, then dragged her
to the very edge of the canon, gaping
like the bottomless pit to receive them.
And as her agonized screams pierced
the soft summer night, Weatherby, still
holding her against his outraged heart,
stepped off.
They found them next day in. the
bottom of the canon. Violet's lovely
face was past recognition, but or
Weatherby's fingered a smile of such
awful triumph as would have pleased
the archfiend himself-From Truth.