The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1896-11-24

SA v
'How DARE YOU COME HERE TO
MAKE MISCHIEF"
she held out her hands to him, palm up
permost. "Will he marry her?"
mol" the Burgomaster answered,
grimly.
She flung up her hands. "Then be-
warel" she cried, wildly, and for the
first time raised her voice. Beware!
You and yours have brought us to
shame, but the end is not yet. The end
is not yet. You do not know u.s."
At that, however, he rallied himself.
81 may not know you yet" he said, hard
ily, and, indeed, brutally, "but know
this. That such things as these come,
woman, of people setting themselves up
to be better than their neighbors-when
they are as poor as church mice! They
come of sighting honest fellows and
retting caps at those above you! Your
daughter--or you, woman, If you like 1t
betterCset the trap, and you are caught
in il yourselves! That is ALL"
"You wretch!" she gasped. sand he
will not marry her?"
"Not while live" he answered,
firmly.
"And that is your last wordP" !!
"It is" he said.
He was on his guard, prepared to de-
fend himself against her violence. But
sfter a tense pause of suspense, during
every moment Of which he expected her
TO fall upon him, she said only: Where
is he?
81 shall not tell you," he answered.
"And that is all?"
"That is all"
1t was not their first interview. She
had plead with him before, had knelt
and wept and abased herself before him,
had done all that the love that tore her
heartstrings, the love that made II so
much more difficult to see her child
suffer than to suffer herself, the love
that every moment painted the bare
room at home and her daughter pros
trate there in shame and despair-she
had done all that even that love could
suggest. There was no room here for
further pleading; and she had threat
ened-and failed. What then remained
to be done?
Nothing, the Burgomaster thought
as In O flush Of triumph and relief he
watched her go, outfaced and defeated.
Nothing; and he hugged himself on the
prudence that had dispatched his son
out of the way in time, and rendered q
match with that proud pauper brat i'm
possible. Nothing; but to the woman,
rs she went, it seemed that everything,
everything, was yet to be done. As
she left the little square and plunged
into the nurrow street that led to her
] House on the Wall, the story of her life
in Huymonde spread itself before her in
a string of scenes that now-now alas,
but never before-seemed to find their
natural sequence in this tragedy. Nine
| years before she had come to Huymonde
with her artist husband; but the great
art of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries was dying or dead in Flanders
and with IL the artistic sense and the
honor once paid TO it. Huymonde made
Delft still, and pottery; but on old con
ventional lines, in endless repetition ol
old formal patterns, with no touch oi
genius or appreciation. Trade, ana 9
desire to win the florid ease, the sieeH
comfort. Of the burgher. possessed the
town wholly. The artist had found him
self n stranger in a strange land; hac
struggled on, despising and despised, II
the quaint house on the wall, at whici
he had snatched, on his first coming
because it looked over the open coun
try: and there after seven years haS
died, scarcely better known. and M
whit more highly appreciated, than OF
the day OF his arrival.
After that the story was OF TIVE
women living sola cum sola. one who'll.
for the other; suspected. IL not disliked
hy their neghbors, and for their par
alien in all their thoughts and stand
ards, since the artists widow could no
forget that he had been Peter Paul
favorite pupil. or that her father ha
counted qua-terings. Sola cum SOLE
until one day the wnr began. ond
Huymonde setting Itself 90 look TO II
dcicnses. young man appeared on
rcrtain evening TO inspect the Hous
On the Wall. and see that the windo'
which looked out over the country wa
safely and properly built up an
strengthened.
"You mus, have n sergeant and guar
billeied bcrc." was his first sharp word
and the widow had sighed At this In
i kasion Of their nrixacY which WIS ais