The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1898-03-17
The niendIy Foe.
"a wierd story by Miss Coleridge. From
CornhiIrs. In Six Parts)
PART VI

CornhiIrs. In Six Parts.)
PART VI
In the course of your life,'' the Count
said, you have, no doubt, seen many
strange things" He waved his hand in the
direction of the grotesques. Did yoJ
| ever, if 1 may ask the question, see &
house furnished in this way before?'
| Never"
Gould it have been so furnished by any
reasonable man?'
"A poet?" I said, tentatively.
The Count shrugged his shoulders.
There are no poets in the family
| I kept silence.
THE man shot himself. His son built
the little room up above. 1t has no win
dow to the front. There his wife lived
until her DEATH
He glanced up at portrait on the wall,
| the features of which strongly resembled
his own.
No one knows what became of him"
AS he spoke, he pulled a silk tassel
which hung by a long slender cord from
the ceiling. A thousand lights flashed
out. The heart of every craven rose be-
came a heart OF flame, stars glowed
| among the vine and pomegranate, eyes
of fire shone from the grotesque heads.
The lights, the faces the flowers and
the first letter of the name of my enemy.
Everywhere it was written. A wave of
fresh vigorous hate surged over me.
Have you ever seen an apartment light
ed in this manner before?" he asked.
Il must confess that it appears to me
fantastic, though very beautiful"
we were not speaking of the effect,
think. Is it unusual?'
Certainly
The invention is due to the father of
the present owner. He fell by his own
hand"
And the present owner?" said.
The Counts expression changed. He
looked at his daughter, who had seated
herself on a low couch by the fire She
did not appear to be listening, but he
lowered his voice.
The present owner has one child-now
in the flower of her youth. She does not
know the dreadful fate of her ancestors.
She has only been told this much-that at
the age of seventeen she will pass into
another life. She feels no fear, since she
Is going to the mother whom, as a babe
she lost. OF the exact moment and man
ner of her death she has been kept in
ignorance until within an hour of it.
Nothing has frightened nothing has dis
tressed her. Pure and unspotted as she
came to him, he that best loves her de-
sires to send her back to that heaven
which is more real TO her than earth
to that heaven which will save her from
knowing-as, but for him, she must in
fallibly know-that this earth is a hell.
Is he right?'
No 1 said, with a certain assurance.
He is mad"
The Count started; but on the instant
he was calm again.
That makes the fifth generation" he
said, as if to himself. In the eyes of
ignorant persons he may be mad, perhaps
Is it not the truest sanity to prevent
these horrors from eliminating in a sixth?
cannot but approve of his Judgment"
He turned toward the girl. She raised |
her face to his. l saw that it, was white |
as marble. l thought that she was going |
TO faint. Instinctively / siezed the flask |
and poured out some OF the wine
We'll thought OFF, said the Count |
The church, however, comes first-even |
before a lady
He made a sign TO her.
You need refreshment more than L"
she said, Offering me the glass.
L took it from her, not thinking what ! /
lid. And yet some word of hers recalled
L word spoken before.
'Refreshmentr
Take no refreshment In that house"
l had but tasted. For the moment nv
senses still were clear. I saw the Count
sprinkle drops from a vial onto his hand
Ierchief and give 1t to the little LADY, I
aw her fall back softly on the couch.
Her father watched with rapt attention.
The .swansdown cloak that she had worn
vas hanging over the back Of a chair.
suddenly he tore a bit of 1t away and held
to her lips. The light down never
TIRED
thought that called out, but heard no
ound.
There was weight Of lead upon my
yes-the air was thick with fog. 1 fought
Nth might and main to get to her. I
ould not stir step. I could not even see !
er now.
Making one last effort to move. I missed
ny footing and fell-fell, as it seemed |
1to yawning gulf that opened suddenly
etore me-fell down and down and down
ITO the fathomless depths of that slumber
herein we spend the half of existence.
But Lethe had been melted out upevenlv:
her the sleep that knew no earthly
lorrow-to me the sleep that ended in q
ew hours, leaving the rest of life a
ream.
On the day after. 1 met the Count at |
o'clock in the morning. At O'Clock in
lie evening / kept my dinner enga cement |