The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-03-25
VANISHED. A,!,''sy "A Story of


| your deserts" | said.
"Lor" he answered. II told him next |
| to nothing, sir. Just the artists name, |
and as you were in the gallery l point |
| cd you out---no offense, | hope sir-its |
the usual thing. But thirty-two shil-
| lings-you amt mistaken, sir? And i'm |
| dressed like a pauper."
| | observed with the air of one utter |
| ing an absolutely original remark that !
| one cannot always judge by appear .
| ances, and having advised the policeman
! to take his imperial ruble to a money
| changer passed on and went home.
/ believe I had dismissed the while Incl
! dent from my mind before | reached
the end Of Piccadily-certainly ! had
| forgotten it by the time ! reached
home, for ] made no mention of it t.
Helen. / often wondered in the days
that came after and brought so much
anxiety if our sorrow would have been
avoided if had told her But tho thing
seemed slight and inconscqucntial-an
odd looking foreigner staring at my
picture and giving its custodian gold
rublc-thcrc was nothing in that to
! suggest the first step in an ugly dream
and ! let the incident pass unhecdod.
1t was a month later that Helen came
| to mo one afternoon dressed for walk
inS and asked if | would go out with
| her for awhile. / was busy at my easel
| for the light was good and ] was ah-
Sorbed in now conception. | looked at
her and wanted to go, and then at my
picture and wanted to stop. She saw
my hesitation and rctrcatod, laughing,
10 the door.
80. irresolute lover" she said. is it
SO hard 10 make up your mind as to the
charms Of your two mstrosses? Never
mind, dear, I'll give place to art Tor an
hour. I have some shopping 10 do and
YOU hate shopping, don't you, poor
darling? Go on with your work and be
ready for my return in an hour and
then wc'll have a walk in the park he
fore darkness comes on. So au revnir.
she threw me a kiss with her dainty
fngertips and laughed and ran away.
! heard the door close and the pattor
of her feet upon the stairs outside and
then turned to my picture and worked
steadily again.
An hour passed and still | worked
and Helen had not returned. At the
end of another hall hour | laid aside
palette and brushes and made myself
ready for our walk. Still she came not.
! | sat down and smoked, but at the end
of two hours ! went downstairs and
, standing AZ the door of our house look
ed along the road, hoping to catch
sight of her figure. once | thought |
saw her in the distance and went to
meet her only to find myself mistaken
I went back to the house and waited at
the door, Ten minutes passed and
, there was no sign of her coming.
, went upstairs to our rooms and sat
| = 10, 4,
t then nearly three hours since she had
l left me and the afternoon was rapidly
1 fading into twilight. Still did not feel
q uneasy; it struck me that she had met
some friend or other and made a call.
2 She knew that l was busly intent on
e my picture and should not object to be
a ing left alone with it. So I sat there
s ! smoking and reading, cXpectant of her
/ voice on the stairs at any moment. /
had no thought whatever of wrong
| how could have?
- 7 think | had worked longer and
= harder that day than usual-anyhow,
something induced me to sleep. The
f book which | was reading dropped
n from my hand and / slumberod. While
= ! slept | dreamed that Helen was in
e danger. / heard her voice crying to
+ me for help. | had a mOmcntary
4 glimpse of her face, fun of pain and
5 fear. l woke with a start and looked
about me. The studio was in darkness
d there was no CLEAN of light save the
r faint rays of gas lamp in the street
= outside.
q our usual dinner hour was G. a con-
= venient one for us because it was Meth
Q er too early nor too late. | glanced
s at my watch it was five minutes to =
e Where could Helen be? 1t was nearly
It four hours since she left home, and
y wherever she might have gone | felt
e sure that had all been we'll she WOull
e have returned to dinner. Then l re-
= membered that we had promised 10 &c,
Y company some friends to the theatre
l. that evening and had arranged to cal
e for them at a quarter to S. A ray o
d hope flashed upon me; it might be tina
l. Helen had gone there. 1t was an i'm
= probable thing, but drowning mel
catch at straws, and ] was by that tim,
d most seriously concerned at my wifei
ID absence. / told the girl to keep Dime
le waiting and snatching up my hat ran
lie out to our friends house. one wore
& there sent me away again; Helen hao
ID not been there But as | turned ava,
ID a voice called me back; one of tn
ID daughters of the house had seen he
le at half-past . in Piccadilly. She wa
lg just going into Hatchard's book sho
AZ and had stayed a moment at the doc
~ to speak to her friend ana TO confirm
O. our engagement for the evening.
ad There are few sensations more horri
re BILE than that Of a man who loses VIII
e. or child in a great city and feels him
I'd self at sea at the very outset of hi
~ search. | realized this sensation to In
X full as l walked away from my friend
lis house. / was by that time certain thd
- something had befallen Helen Sh
m, might at that moment be calling on m
lis for help as she did in my dream An
ut l was powerless. Which way should
gn turn amid that awful labyrinth {
it streets?
Us I went home hoping TO find her Their
n | looked into the dining room. Thcl
was the CHEEKY table spread for dnnC
~ with its two vacant places and II
IS shaded lamp light falling on the po
is ished glass and silver But the rool
d. | was empty, and so was the whole huus
I'D empty at any rate of her presence.
ut roamed from room to room for Will
TOO full Of a sickening fear to think
to speculate, but al last l could bear Il
suspense no longer. l left the hous
he drove to the nearest police station an
a gave information.
led There is a certain mOnotonous Tegl
larty about the ways and doings an
'as thoughts of the police which is eXa
. perating at times like that, but in spi
of il their hclp is valuable and il ga,