The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-06-15
Che Bottle Reading Circle
By KATE UPSON CLARK.
Copyright, 1896, by the Bachelor syndicats.l

before. The superstition which had
been bred in her by her sequestered life
and by the singular popularity which
marked her, awoke with a passionate
fervor.
Come back!" she cried, with a
Shrek, which she instantly regretted,
for she feared that 1t might have
awakened her mother-but the moth
had gone. She could hear its great
wings beating the darkness just be-
yond her reach.
II must do it! 1t is right" she muir
INJURED over and over again. She ran
into the hall and listened at her moth
er's door. Mrs Keasbey was breathing
hard, and had evidently heard moth
ing. Dorilla envied her mother the
power to sleep at such time. Then
the girl took off her shoes, weeping Bit
terly, but with unfaltering movements
carrying out her determination. AS
she crept into the shadows of the for
est and stopped to refasten her shoes,
something brushed the air beside her.
1t was a great white moth. - felt
sure that it was the one which had left
her. Before she had risen, it had set
tied and was swaying upon the loose
ringlets above her forehead.
Two hours later, she was lying, more
dead than alive, upon the lace-covered
bed of Mrs. Coils Wood. A serving
woman stood over her, tanning her.
There was sudden rush of garments
White and startled, much as she had
seen it in her vision on the hill, the
face of her young teacher looked into
Dorilla's.
Can you bear it, Dorilla? oh, I
wonder if 1 ought to tell you! You
must know it soon, but are you strong
enough to hear it now?"
The girl nodded. All the fierceness
and selfshness of her nature seemed
gone. She was melted down to utter
tenderness.
my husband has been brought home.
He is unconscious, but the doctor says
that he will be all right before long
and you have saved his life!"
She could not go on for the tears
which choked her.
"Well?" said Dorilla, raising herself
on her elbow. Her voice showed that
her nerves were strained to the last
pitch of endurance.
was a hand-to-hand fight between his
men and ours-and he was hurt, but
not seriously. He will have to, oh, my
poor Dorilla! he will probably have to
serve long term in prison, And-and
nobody was shot but one-he was
shot-dead-the one you called Mikey."
Dorilla fell back on the bed She
had heard now all that she wanted to
know.
Presently she sprang up and began
with quivering hands to arrange her
dress.
"You better lie still,' the serving
woman warned her. "You don't look
as If you'd oughter stand up. You'll
faint away, first you know"
"Dorilla!" cried Mrs. Coils Wood,
throwing her arms around the white
and agitated girl, don't think of leav-
ing me! You are going to live always
with me now!'
mo-" said Dorilla, with the old dark
look flashing from her wild eyes. 1T
love you, and 1 always shall-but I
can't live in the world any more. Don't
you see? My heart is broken. 1 am
young, 1 know-and you think can
get over things-but / can't I have
tried to do right, as you told me-and
it has broken my heart"
But you are needed in the world!
We need women like you-brave and
unselfish, and with quicK minds to
plan and do"
mo, L can't stand it," insisted the
girl, wearily, but with a trace of her
old fire. II will go and get my mother.
They will take us both there-at the
convent. Just help me to get back to
the convent. 1t will be the kindest
thing you can do for me. 1 want to
live there always with the sisters. You
don't believe in masses for souls, or
prayers for the dead-but don't you see
I've got to? That's what I shall do
now-offer them all the rest of my life
for" she stopped, and the strained
look gave way on her face, II tell you
my heart Is broken"
She threw her arms around her
friend, and they wept together.
When they had bound up Thomas
keasbey's wounds and led him away,
1t was broad daylight. His head was
bandaged, and he had one arm in a
sling, but he could see, and his mind
was perfectly clear. Ever since the first
onslaught of the constables upon them,
he had been casting about for some
explanation of the failure of the plans
upon which he had expended his best
thought for many months. He could
not devise any.
The cashiers house was only few
doors away from the bank. AS, held
between two of his captors, Thomas
keasbey shu ed along past this house,
he glanced downward. There lay a.
great white moth, trampled and dead.
He shook himself free for an instant,