The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1898-12-11

Rested. he tried the front door. To ais
surprise Il opened readily. Bartram en-
tered the little hall quietly and turned or
the gas that had been left burning low.
All was quiet in the house. A clock licked
in one of the Mfeisss down stair rooms.
The cripple mounted the stairs cautiously
ard stole into the quietness Of the front
chamber. The window shades were rolled
/ I'D. and the light from the street was SUI
ficienE TO enable one clearly TO distinguish
objects In the room. Bar,ram noted the
white draped bed and the chairs and the
tall mirror on the dressing case.
He sat down and waited. Only revenge
was in his thoughts. All the sweetness
and poetry Of his mRture had turned 70
passionate hatred oryhe one man that had
wronged him.
Accidentally he touched the window shut
ter and there was creak- In 2 moment
the man heard light step n the next
ROOM
rs that you. papa" child's voice
called
Bartram raised himself in the half light
and caught his breath. Surprise made him
dumb. He had never heard that Maxwell
had a child.
Presently. however, the communicating
door opened. and small, whlts-clad fig
ure, with an aureola of yellow hair, stood
in the passageway.
The child looked ar Bartram without =
trace Of fear A fash OF light from the
window showed smile on the fair little
face.
lis you Santa Claus?'' she asked.
The startled Bariram felt his blood grow
chill in his veins. My name is Nichol
Bartram." he trembled. wondering if II
were real child or an apparition that he
was addressing. The wretched man was
more inclined TO give credence TO the lat
ter idea because the small being manifest
ed no horror of his deformity.
''Nichol." the little one repeated. That's
nearly the same as st. Nicholas. Is Ii you
who gives us the presenlss Oh how / wish
/ could see you. But was born blind
Blind groaned Bartram. half TO him.
self. "Ah now 1 understand.
II think you must be very beautiful, St.
Nichol--Nicholas? hazarded the little one,
Questioningly.
why do you think SOP asked Bartram
scarcely knowing what he said.
Because your voice Is so beautiful.
think you must be like your voice. My
name is Estelle Maxwell. You make me
almost see beautiful things when You speak.
May l come close 10 You and feel your
face?' With which she advanced few Of
her short PAGES.
NO, no,'' cried Bartram. dissuadingiy IN
his gentlest tone. Il could not permit you
to touch me.''
The little girl stopped still. The small
face was full of wondering inquiry and
awe. rs il because you are holy that you
mustn't be topched?'' she asked half apol-
ogetically.
Child. child"' demonstrated Bartram, in
choking voice. Again he felt that she
must be something more than mortal. Else
why that rebuker
AS he turned about some one lighted the
gas in the han and advanced; advanced,
and then stood still
Ii was Maxwell. The latter's face palej
at the sight OF the midnight intruder.
IT'S t. said Bartram, meeting his old
foe face 10 face.
Il know why you came" gasped the
guilty man. Sinking back.
Before Bartram could answer a small
voice interposed. ''0G. papa. this is the
good ST. Nicholas'' She put her arms
around her fathers neck drawing the
frightened face down and kissing it,
The clock struck L. With the last
stroke the church bells began TO chime
Listen. papa. and perhaps We may hear
the angels singing Glory to God in the
highest. and on earth peace and good
WILL" said little HDtele.
For moment the two men regarded eacs
other mutey over the child's golden curls.
Then. n If actuated by a common impulse