Omaha daily bee., 1897-05-16

ness only touched him vaguely. He would
no longer be a slave to the past, or tina
memory that had deluded him a few hours
ago. He walked to tho 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 hills;
there rose the steadfast pines; there was no
change in them. 1t was this surrounding
constancy of nature that had affected him.
He TUNED away and entered the bedroom.
Here he suddenly remembered that the
mother of this vague enemy Van Loo-for
his feeling toward him was still vague. as
few men really hate the personality they
don't know-had only momentarily vacated
/ it, and to his d~istaste of his own intrusion
was now added the 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 it's
last occupant, and still frightened by that
mysterious instinct of the sex which is in
evitable. Where a man would have simply
left his forgotten slippers or collars there
was a glass of still unfaded flowers; the
cold marble top of the dressing table was
Uttered by a few linen and silk toilet covers
| and on the mantle shelf was a sheaf Of photo
graphs. He walked toward them mechan-
ically. glanced at them abstractedly, and then
| stopped suddenly with a beating heart. Before
him was the picture of his past, the photo
graph 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
it and hurried with it to the light. Yes! Yes!
1t was she-as she had lived in his actual
memory. she as had lived in his actual
memory, she as mad lived in his dream. He
saw her sweet eyes, but the frightened, inno-
cent trouble had passed from them; there
was the sensitive 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 pho
tograph 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 it 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 remem-
bered; they had Travelled; perhaps had met
her there in 1858; that was the date in her
handwriting; that was the date on the pho
tographer's address-1S5S. Suddenly he laid
the photograph down, took with trembling
fingers a letter case from his pocket, opened
il. and laid his last letter to her, Endorsed
with the cruel announcement of her death.
before him on the table. He passed his hand
across his forehead and opened the letter.
1t was dated 1856! The photograph must
have been taken two years after her alleged
death.
He examined it again eagerly, ~fxedly,
trembllngly. A wild impulse to summon
Barker or Stacy on the spot
was restrained with difficulty and
only when he remembered that they
could not help him. Then he began to oscll-
late between p Joy and a new fear, which
now, for the first time, began to dawn upon
him. II the news OF her death had been a
fendish trick of her relations why had she
never sought him.? II was not ill-health' re.
| straint. nor fear; there was nothing but
happiness and the strength OF youth and
beauty in that face and figure. He had not
/ disappeared from the world; he was known
OF men; more, his memorable good fortune
must have reached her ears. Had he wasted
all these miserable years to find himself
abandoned, forgotten, perhaps even a dupe!
For the first time the sting OF Jealousy en-
tered his soul. Perhaps, unconsciously to
himself, his strange and varying feelings that
afternoon had been the gathering climax
of his mental condition.; at all events, In the
| sudden revulsion there was a shaking of OF
his apathetic thought; there was activity
even II 1t was the activity OF pain. Here
was a mystery to be solved, a secret to be
discovered, a past wrong to be eXOosed. ar
enemy or perhaps even a faithless love to bt
punished. Perhaps he had even saved hi!
reason at the expense of his love. lie quickly
replaced the photograph on the mantel smell
returned the letter carefully to his pocket
BOOKING longer a souvenir of the past, but
proof OF treachery-and began to mechanic
ally undress himself. He was quite calm
now, and went to bed with a strange sense o
relief, and slept as he had not slept since III
was a boy.
The whole hotel had sunk to rest by thii
time, and then began the usual slow, nightly
invasion and investment Of 1t by nature, Fol-
all it's broad verandas and giaring terraces
its long ranges of windows and glitterint
crest OF cupola and tower, it gradually sue
cumbed TO the more potent influences
around 1t. and became their sport and play
ground. The mountain breezes from thu
distant summit swept down upon it's films!
structure. shook the great glass windows al
with a strong hand. and sent the balm o
: bay and spruce through every chink anC
Granny. In the great hall and corridor