Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1897-12-02

and to relieve himself of the strain of
composition by long walk.
Constance was very lovely at the
dance, in faint-green brocade, with
a quantity of creamy old lace. Some
crimson poppies We're twisted round
her ivory shoulders. One or two more
Of the flaming flowers shone from her
pale-gold hair. Mr.. Dysart completely
lost his head over her; as he had q lot
of possessions in Ireland, among them
a rich father and an ancient and hon
orable ancestry, he could afford to
do so.
He was thinking of her as she had
looked the night before, when sud
denly she appeared, with her servant,
coming up from street dark and
deep, like well, for already it was
getting dusk
On the strength of being ut college
with her brother, he began with true
manly irascibility to take her to task
for her imprudence. But Miss Con-
stance tightened up her soft, naughty
mouth and, giving him the rear curve
of u tweed shoulder to study, led him
chase home.
The house the brother and sister
occupied had been Senor Lopez's, but
was presented to Dick, together
with mine worth millions,
several black-eyed girls, and
what other trifiing property Don
Felipe owned. However, Dick con-
tinued to pay the rent regularly and
gazed on the girls from afar. The
hanging-lamp was lighted in the
zaguan; and when the mozo unclaimed
the great double doors, food Of
melody and fragrance rushed out to
greet them from the birds and flowers
in the dim patio. Dick, in asmoking-
jacket, lounged out from the sala
to insist that Tony, old boy, should
take tea with them. Which he did.
That was the first difference be-
tween the brother and sister, Dick
adored Tony, and every night they
pumped out the niue or rode to
hounds over the sala floor. But
Constance detested him, and, con-
trary to her usual reticence, said so.
She tramped around the disreputable
and filthy streets twice as much as be-
fore, for she knew it annoyed him.
Sometimes she would see him follow
ing, and she resented his espionage.
why don't you like Tony?" Dick
would ask. "You know my theory,
Connie, that sporty man like Dysart
makes the best husband.
ooh, Dick! who is talking about
husbands? [ think that man
who is utterly doggy and horsey and
takes Browning to be authority on
pink-eye or glanders is very poor
companion. To quote your dear
Tony we don't trot in the same
classn"
Dick gave contemptuous snort
This was one day at luncheon, and
Constance, instead of the good cry she
plned for, took q walk She had not
seen Rosita for some time, and she
turned her steps toward what DR..
DysGrt called 'those cut-throat dens. "
She had never seen the street so de-
serted. All We're taking a siesta, even
the dogs. AS she reached the sharp
corner, she heard thin little shrek |
full of appeal. She recognized Rosita's |
voice, and ran with her criada at her
side into the low, open doorway she
had before so shudderingly avoided.
There, swapping his teeth and roll
ing his bloodshot eyes, was Rosita's
little brother" tied with strong ropes
to an iron pin in the wall-but his
arms were free, and he stood there,
giant in size. He had secured the
key and had almost pulled the staple
from the wall, but Rosita was clinging
to his arm and calling for help. To |
and fro he swung her as q wolf might |
a rabbit
He had the key in his black, cruel
hands and he brought it down on her
up-turred face. Then again, as Con-
stance rushed forward with a scream.
the key fell with crunch on the little,
old, gray head.
AT that moment the pin gave way,
for adobe walls are not strong. Con
stance turned with her hands thrown
out wildly. Over Rosita's body the
mailman tripped with crash to the
earth floor; just rs he fell, he caught
Cohstances gown IN his grasp. She |
fell with him, and, falling, knew the
room had filled with clattering crowd,
and that Tony Dysart, smooth-shaven
and blonde, loomed above all.
Constance, with the help of her
criada, got out in the street, where
she listened, with beating heart to
the cries, curses, and scutiiing going
on inside
There was one dominating, awful
groan-then a sinister silence.
A moment of sickening uncertainty
for that Unconditional young English
woman, and Tony Dysart, painting, his
clothes torn, and blood-stains on his
face and hands.
He walked firmly enough, to give
Constance a helping arm up the stairs.
He said Rosita was dead. and he
thought the ''little brother" would die