The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-03-08

Why did Ia man of ffty-marry a girl
of fifteen? Tell me that"
He spoke now with a peculiar contempt
uous snarl. Madness and age combined
made him truly hideous to behold and his
son put out both hands with a gesture of
disgust he could no longer overcome.
1t was cruel, a shameful bargain on the
part of an untrustworthy guardian to let
you have her" he cried, boiling over with
Indignation. Never mention it to me
again."
Abr exclaimed Old Co, excitedly.
your mother had the face and form of
that old witch who sat for the Madonna.
She drove me mad even when l tried to
beat II out of her / should have killed
her for hating me while she held me in
the tolls of her beauty-but," he paused,
she ran away and pretended to be dead" "
What do you mean2"
A sudden hope throbbed in his sons
heart Could it be possible the mother he
had adored in infancy was about to be
restored in some eccentric way to him
after all these years.
She is dead" he said mournfully af-
ter a second turning his head away.
When he looked around again Old Co.
had Withdrawn the curtain at the end
of the room and stood pointing exulting-
~ at some object only dimly discernible
in the feeble light.
Reuben moved nearer horror-stricken
his breath coming in gasps of pain. Good
Cod! ne exclaimed. hoarsely, The Ma
donna of Sepulcher."
He snatched the lamp off the rickety
ldble anu nelu IL up 10 the canvas, eN-
aiming with quick, practised eye, all
the marks of the pictures genuineness.
Behind him his own figure cast a menace
ing shadow over half the ROOM and fell
like with funeral blackness on that of the
Jew, who watched him in a kind of &c
static madness of worshiping joy.
My son. my son, and himself a painter
worthy to tread in the great footsteps"
he muttered rocking his body to and fro.
Meanwhile the light fared up on to the
sweet pictured face and down into Reu-
ions Of hn lran sc
which seemed to have turned his father
brain, for Reuben had always closely re-
sembled his girl mother He put the lamp
down again.
"Oh, God"' he groaned. in the bitter
ness of his spirit 1T is the lost Madonna,
and this mailman, my father. is the thief"
| The old man made a timid movement
| forward and laid hand upon his arm,
but Reuben shook him off and staggered
| blindly from the room.
| All that night the painter wandered bag
! gard and detected through the streets.
| The burden of disgrace lay heavily upon
| him. 1t had fallen with crushing force on
/ to his sensitive nature and he shrank
/ from the duty that lay before him.
The picture had never been lost, only
| vilely- secreted. and must be promptly re-
| stored to its legitimate owner.
! Who was he? Reuben did not know;
| only he felt he must search him out were
he compelled to walk barefooted through
| the world. 1t was like the touch of a red
| hot iron to think that his own name
| must henceforth be smeared by connec-
ton with that of the culprit. His name
| which he had just considered madei
! At dawn he found himself on one of the
| bridges over the Seine, and a freshness in
the air that stole up from the gently ruff
| fled waters brought back a certain amount
| of calmness to his brain. Just as the
| first following streak shot across the sky,
| however an idea rushed into his mind,
which made him hold ON to the parapet,
| while he shivered violently with the fright
ii had inspired. Then he made a bewild-
j cred attempt to retrace is steps, mutter-
/ IN inns 1f
"If 1 can only be in time-if I can only
| be in time. Merciful heaven grant that
| 1 be not too later
| Those persons who were aboard drew
| aside as he passed They shrugged their
| shoulders and sighed with compassion. A
| handsome man driven distracted by love
or gaming. All. WE'LL the world was al
! ways sol One sees strange sights in a
| great city, and they fell to picturing a
fine corpse stretched on one of the tiled
| slabs in the morning while a crowd drank
| in the sight with eager admiration
Led by some strange instinct meanwhile,
Reuben found his way into the mean quar-
ter he had quilted in such adherence.
| He dashed up the narrow stairs, and
| flung open the door.
Then all at once he stood still, quite ST.
| lent. He was in time and yet-too latel
| The great masterpiece hung there in all
its radiant beauty, lighted up by the new
| ly-risen sun, which streamed in at the
| garnet window, and before it lay mo-
| tioness figure, with face upturned, and
thin, yellow hands clutching some papers
| TO It's breast.
The Madonna of the Sepulchre was safe
from any frenzied desire Old Co might
| have been seized with to destroy the OBJ
ject of his delusion. There he lay. already
stiffening under the rigid touch of the
sculptor Death, and it was with awe, his
not untempered with thankfulness, his
SON knelt down to withdraw the papers
| from his grasp.
He glanced almost mechanically at their
| contents, and, little by little, the truth
about the missing picture dawned upon
| his brain.
| Henceforward Reuben Cohen would he
| the sole poSsessor of this coveted master
| piece. There was no claim in allegiance.
| for in his roundabout, secret fashion Old
Co. had purchased it for himself
He had stolen it from the eyes of the
world-that alone was his crime-to gloat
over its beauty with the strange fanati-
| cism of a mailman.
CThe End).