The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-03-04

SSSSSS
CHAPTER RNIN.-(Continued
"You have told me of that already. Lady
Swansdown having failed you, may | ask"
with studied contempt-"wh are you
going to take with you now"
What do you mcan?" says he, wheeling
round to her. What do you mean by
that?' laying his hands upon her shoul-
ders, and looking with fierce eyes into her
pale face, "a man might well kill your
And why" demands she. undauntedly.
You would have taken hcr-you have
confessed so much-you had the coarse
courage to put it into words. Il not her,
why'-with shrug-''then another
There. think as you WILL" says he, re-
leasing her roughly. Nothing | could
say would convince or move you. And
yet. | know it is of no use. but | am de-
ermined | will leave nothing unsaid. |
viii give you no loop-hole. | asked her to
go with me in n moment of irritation, of
loneliness, if you will; it is hard for a man
to be forever outside the pale of affection,
and | thought-well, it is no matter what
thought. l was wrong, it seems. AS
for caring for her, | care so little that |
now feel actually glad she had the sense
to refuse my senscless proposal. She
would have bored me, | think, and
should undoubtedly have bored her. The
proposition was made to her in q moment
of folly
"Oh. folly!' says she, with a curious
laugh.
We'll give it any other name you like.
And after ALL" in a low tone, you are
right. 1t was not the word. If had said
despair | should have been nearer the
mark"
There might have been another word"
said She, slowly.
Even if there were,' says he. 'the Oc-
casion for it is of your making. You have
thrown me over; you must be prepared.
| therefore, to accept the consequences
You have prepared me for anything"
says she, calmly, but with bitter meaning
See here" says he, furiously. There
may still be one thing left for you which l
have not prepared. You have just asked
me who | am going to take with me when
| leave this place forever. Shall | answer
you?'
Something in his manner tcrrifies her.
she feels her face blanching. Words are
denied her, but she makes a faint move
ment OF assent with her hand. What is he
going to say?
What if | should decide, then. on tax
ing my son with meE' says he, violently
WHO is there to prevent me? Not you
or another Thus l could cut all ties and
put you out of my life at once and for
ever."
he had certainly not calculated on the
force of his words or his manner. 1t had
been mere angry suggestion. There was
no cruelty in Baltimore's nature. He had
never once permitted himself to dwell IN
on the possibility of separating the boy
from his mother. Such terrible revenge
as that was beyond him-hs whole nature
would have reyolted against it. He had
spoken with passion. urged by her con-
tempt into a desire to show her where his
power lay. without any intention of actii-
ally using it. He meant, pcrhaps, to
weaken her ntolerable defiance, and show
her where hole in her armor Law. He
was not prepared for the effect of his
words.
An ashen shade had oversnread her
face; her expression has become chostlv
AS though her limbs have suddenly eiyan
way under her, she falls against the man
telplece and cllngs to ii with trembling
fingers. Her eyes, wild and ang,ished
seek his.
The chiId.' gasps she, in a voice of
mortal terror The child. Not the child !,
Oh. Baltimore, you have taken all from,
me except that. Leave me my chiId.'
Don't look at me like that" exclaims
he, ineXprcssibly shocked-this suddcn
and complete abandonment of herself TO
her fear has Mortified him. Il nevor
meant it. | but suggested n possibility.
| The child shall stay with you. Do Won
hear me, Isabel? The child is yonrs
When | go, go alone"
There is moments silence. and then
| she bursts into tears. 1t is sharp reac-
| ton, and it shakes her bodily and mental
! ly. y wild return Of her love for him
that first, sweet and only love of her life
returns to her, born of intense gratitude
But sadly, slowly, it dies away again. II
seems to her too late to dream of thar
| again. Yet perhaps her tears have as
| much to do with that lost love as with
! her gratitude.
Slowly her color returns. She checks
| her sobs. She raises her head and looks
at him still with her handkerchief pressed
TO her tremulous lips.
| ut is a promise" says she.
Yes; q promise"
| You will nCt change again''-nervous-
! Is. "Iou-"
| "Ah. doubt TO the last" says he. sIt is
| n promise from me to you. and Of course
| the word of such reprobatc rs you con
! slider me can scarcely be of any avail"
| But you could not break this promise -
! says she, in low voice, ana with long
| sigh
! What trust you place in mo-" says he.
| with an open sneer-'wcll, 50 he it. give
| you home and child. You give me-not
worth while to 60 into the magnicence Of
| your gifts, is it,
! Il gave you once a whole heart, an I'm
/ broken faith says she
| And took them back again, Child's
/ rIayr' says he. "Child's promises Well.
/ if you will have it so, you have got a
! promise from me now. and think you
might say thank you for il. as the chill
| dren do
Il do thank YOU says she. vehemently.
! Does not my whole manner speak for
! me- Once again her eyes ill with tears.
! so much love for the child"' cries he. in
! n StinCing tone: and not one thought for
/ the father. Truly your professions OF love
were light as thistle-down. There, you
! are not worth a thought yourself. Expcnd
| any affection you have upon your son, and
! forget me as soon as ever you can. 1t
! will not take you long, once am ont of
| your sight"
| He opens the door abruptly, and is gone.
CHAPTER XN.
/ The cool evening air on ioyce's flushed
! cheeks Gains her as she sets out for the
walk that Barbara had encouraged her t0