Evening star., 1897-05-15


unreal, as impotent, as shadowy as the
memory of the attempted robbery in the
old cabin on that very spot. He was
ashamed Of that selfshness which still
made him cling to his past, so much his
own that he knew it debarred him from
the human sympathy Of his comrades.
And even Barker, in whose courtship and
marriage he had tried to resuscitate his
youthful emotions and condone his selfish
errors, even the suggestion of his unhap-
piness only touched him vaguely. He would
no longer be a slave to the past or the
memory that had deluded him a few hours
ago. He walked to the window: alas! there
was the same prospect that had looked
upon his dreams, had lent itself to his old
visions. There was the eternal outline OF
the Mills; there rose the steadfast pines
there was no change in them. 1t was this
surrounding constancy of nature that had
affected him. He turned away and entered
the bed room. Here he suddenly remem-
berer that the mother of this vague enemy
Van Loo-for his feeling toward him was
still vague, as few men really hate the per-
sonality they don't know-had only mo-
mentar,ly vac ated it, and to his distaste of
his own intrusion was now added the pro-
profound irony of his sleeping in the same
bed lately occupied by the mother of the
man who was suspected of having forged
his name. He smiled family and looked
around the apartment. 1t was handsomely
furnished, and although it still had much
of the characterlessness of the hotel room
it was distinctly favored by its last occu-
pant, and still frightened by that mystic
rlous instinct of the sex which is newt
aole. Where man would have simply left
his forgotten slippers or collars there was
glass Of still unfaded flowers; the cold
marble top of the dressing table was lit
tered by few linen and silk toilet covers
and on the mantel shelf was a sheaf of
photographs He walked toward them me-
q Istro to1l
and then stopped suddenly with a beating
heart. Before him was the picture of his
past. the photograph Of the one woman
who had filled his life!
He cast a hurried glance around the
room. as if he half expected to see the
original start up before him, and then
eagerly seized 1t and hurried with it to the
light. Yes! Yes! 1t was she-she as she
had lived in his actual memory. she as she
mad lived In his dream. He saw her sweet
eyes, but the frightened, innocent trouble
had passed from them; there was the SEN
sitlve elegance of her graceful figure in
evening dress, but the figure was fuller and
maturer. Could he be mistaken by some
wonderful resemblance acting upon his too
willing brain? He turned the photograph
over. No; there on the other side, written
In her own childlike hand. endeared and
familiar to his recollection, was her own
name and the date. 1t was surely she!
How did 1t come there? Did the Van Loos
Know her? 1t was taken in Venice; there
was the address of the photographers. The
van Loos were foreigners he remembered; :;
they had travelled; perhaps had met her
there in 1858; that was the late In her
handwriting; that was the date on tho pho
tcgrapher's address-lS5s. Suddenly he laid
the photograph down, took with trembling
fir gers letter case from his pocket, OPEN
ed it, and laid his last letter to her, in
dorsed with the cruel announcement of her
death. before him on the table. He passed
J his hand across his forehead and opened
the letter. 1t was dated 1885, The photo
graph must have been taken two years
after her alleged death.
He examined 1t again eagerly, fxedly.
tremblingly. A wild impulse to summon
Barker or Stacy on the spot was restrain
ed with difhculty, and only when he re-
membered that they could not help him.
Then he began to oscillate between a joy
and new fear which now, for the first
time. began to dawn upon him. If the news
OF her death had been a flendish trick of
her relations. why had she never sought
him? 1t was not ill-health. restraint, Tor
fear; there was nothing but happiness ard
the strength of youth and beauty In that
face and figure. He had not disappeared
from the world; he was known of men:
mere. his memorable good fortune must
nave reached her ears. Had he wasted all
these miserable years to find himself aban-
doned, forgotten. perhaps even a dupe? For
the nrst time the sting Of jealousy entered
his soul. Perhaps unconsciously TO him
self, his strange and varying feelings that
afternoon had been the gathering climax of
nus mental condition.; at all events, in the
sudden revulsion there was a shaking off of
his apathetic thought; there was activity
even II 1t was the activity of pain. Here
was mystery to be solved. a secret TO be
discovered, past wrong to be exposed, an
enemy or perhaps even a faithless love to
De punished. Perhaps he had even saved
MS reason at the expense of his love. He
quickly replaced the photograph on the
mantel shelf, returned the letter carefully
70 MS pocketbook-no longer a souvenir OF
the past, but proof of treachery-and be-
gan to mechanically undress himself He
vas quite calm now. and went to bed with
strange sense Of relief, and slept as he
mad not slept since he was a boy.
The whole hotel had sunk to rest by this
tlme. and then began the usual SLOW night
~ invasion and investment of IL by nature.
For all its broad verandas and giarinr ter
races. Its long ranges of windows and gilt
terlng crest OF cupola and tower, It gradual
~ succumbed to the more potent influences
around 1t, and became their sport and pIay.
thing The mountain breszes from the dis
tant summit swept down upon its flimsv
structure. shook the great glass windows
as with strong hand, and sent the balm
OF nay and spruce through every chiuk and
Granny. In the great hall and corridors the
carpets billowed with the intruding blast
along the floors; there was the murmur of
the pines In the passages and the damn
ocor OF leaves In the dining room There
was the cry of the night birds In the creak-
ing cupoia and the swift rush of dark
wings past bed room windows. Lissome
shapes crept along the terraces between
pered the whole length of the great yeran-
da. In the lulling of the wind the breath
OF the woods was everywhere: even the
aroma of swelling sap-as IL the xhastly
stumps OH the deforested slope behind the
Eotei We're bseedins afresh In the dewless