Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-06-22

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died, leaving his children orphaned and al
most friendless. He had been accounted II
wealthy man. His house on the boulevard
had been a marvel of almost barbaric mag
nficence But after his death the knowl-
edge came to his children that the only
heritage their father left them was that of
bitter poverty. Their only relative, an I'M
Gle, because of former enmity with his
brother, refused to aid them
So, with childish PRIDE taking the small
portion remaining to them, they went into
the world alone. But slowly their slender
purse grew lighter and lighter and would
have totally collapsed were it not that Max
Marsden came forward with kindly offers
of assistance. He was only struggling,
unsuccessful journalist. but he was an old
friend Of the family, and they looked up to
him and trusted him accordingly.
Many the little comfort which found it's
way from his hands to this upper story
room. Cora got work painting porcelain
for city house. Often after offering to
deliver it she would cry out in surprise at
the ample pay her friend brought back.
"They had a customer who was willing
to pay a good price for suitable work, I"
Max would answer grayely.
That night they went to the opera, and
on the way home Cora exclaimed:
II did not know how dearly loved
Verdi. l shall never hear bar of his mu-
sic without recalling my first opera, Max
without remembering you"
"You will not forget me? l am glad of
that am going to test your promise
sooner than you think, dear. / am going
away tonight"
'Going away"
The young voice was sharp with quick,
constrained pain new to it,
Eyes. have obtained ON trial the po-
sition went to New York to procure.
sail for England on Tuesday. And now
here is piece of good news to counterfeit
the other. l went to see your uncle today
and had long talk with him. He is not
such IA grim, hard man as they say. He is
very lonely, old and childish. He promises
all luxury, all kindness, if you will both
60 to him and be as his own children.
Seeing him as do with unprecedented eyes,
| think he regrets his past heartless CON
duct.
But, Max
"My child, know all you would say
but Cedric is not strong enough to work,
and l cannot go away leaving you SO lone
~ and helpless. Besides, it is not wholly
dependence. In his hands is some money
Of his fathers on which you have morally
Il claim. Believe me, it is for the best. u
He went into the house and shook hands
with Cedric. Then he stopped to Cora and
reverently touched her forehead with beard
ed lips. A moment more, and the great,
shabby figure had burst out of the room
and was striding rapidly away under tho
blue, star studded sky.
She stood and watched him out of sight
with eyes growing strangely dim. Once he
paused and looked backward. She was
still standing there, a slim, dark figure
against that patch of light.
sob, my love, God bless your he whis-
pered TREMENDOUSLY.
Five years later. The curtain at the
Grand Opera House in Paris rose on as
fine an audience as had ever assembled
within It's walls In one of the boxes on
the grand tier sat three gentlemen. One,
tall, bronzed, soldierly man, noticing
lnahy Blasscs pelhS ieVcle'' ao al opposlle
box, lifted his lorgnette ana looked across
the stage.
A lady Win HUE coterle Oh ADMIRERS
had just entered. She wore some sou,
silken dress, all aquamarine and silver.
There were water lilies in the golden hail
ana emeralds on inc Whlte NECK. cliliu
ish face for all it's pride and that peculiar
poise of the head; a face with luminous
blue eyes, snowy, stately throat ana
cheeks just dashea WIN roses.
VINO Is shef MAX Marsoeh questloneo
breathlessly.
Ma 1ol! crled VlVaclous llttie
Frenchman. You 90 not KNOW She is
compatrlot OF yours-la pelle Amefl-
calne. Her name Is Lester-Mlle. Lester.
"Ah'' And then, after pause, VINO
IS that gentleman leaning over her chalf'
An, That Is SaVagheau' answered
member OF the American leSatloh, the
Comte dc Savasneau. lie IS helr 10 nan
dozen prlncely estates ana IS mademol-
selle's devoted slave But she VIII nave
none OF nm. She Is a beauty ana an helr-
ess, and hall Paris IS mad about her' but
one might as well ADORE statue. No
marble is colder than she.
Max Marsden' the celebrated journalist
the literary non Oh inc Jay, lookeo Witil
Keen eyes across TO that dainty VISION Win
water lilies IN her halr'
During the last aet she arose ana gain
cred her rlch wrap AROUND her.
Half an hour later Max Marsden stood
IN her Motel.