Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1899-03-06
NUMBER THIRTEEN.

NUMBER THIRTEEN.
 When Mime. Verne's granddaughter Hortense was betrothed to M. Moran, it became necessary to celebrate the occasion by a little family supper. But when Mime. Verne had counted them all, she found, to her horror, that they numbered thirteen. She be- thought her to invite NJ. Roden, the cure, who had ehristened little Hof' tense.
 So NJ. Roden was invited, and all went we'll until two days before the supper, when an unimportant young cousin bethought him to break limb, and reduce the party again to thir- teen.
 The time was short, but madame made the best of it. She invited tho music teacher, who accepted with de- light. Matters were arranged once more, when message came to Uncle Pierre which demanded his presence elsewhere.
 Again there were thirteen guests, and but half day remaining. Mime. Verne was equal to the emergency. She sent note to deaf gentleman or her acquaintance, begging him to come. And now all was well again
 The ladies were adding the finishing touches to their toilettes in the dress ing room, when suddenly screams were heard to resound through the house.
 The maiden aunt, Mile. Rosine, had caught her dress on fire. It was ex- tinguished before she was hurt; but 1. set, and she could not and would not remain to the supper.
 Mime. Verne was in despair. Sud- denly she remembered her notary. A carriage was at the door. She tossed on hood and shawl and hurried in. to it.
 It was only five minutes ride to the building in which the notary's office was located-a many-storied edi- flee, of which he occupied the second floor.
 On the first were situated the apart ments of NJ. Moran-Hortense's be- trothed husband. As she hurried past their door Mime. Verne glanced toward them and saw a lady dressed in black speaking to a servant, who, at the same instant, shut the door in her face.
 Mime. Verne, having mounted the stairs, was doomed to a disappoint- ment. The notary was in, but he was suffering from an attack of the gout. However he could give her the direc- tion, to quortohZieme, who, if he was disengaged, would be happy to hire himself out for supper time.
 As she reached the foot of the stairs, nh dressed in black, sat upon the lower one, rocking herself to and fro and moaning She touched the figure upon l,s shoulder and said: "My poor child, what is the matter?'
 'I have come from the country; I am an orphan; I have no relatives; l came to find friend who promised me everything; I know no one here. Yesterday I spent my last sou. Is there anything for me but the river?
 Suddenly an idea flashed upon the madame's mind.
 At least you shall earn your sup. per-" she said. "Come with me-"
 She hurried the girl into the carriage and drove away with her, explaining as they rode the emergency in which she found herself
  daughters" she said. "A black lace which may be thrown over yorE own.
 And with these words she led the girl into her home upstairs into her own apartment, where she adorned her in haste and led her out to the table the lovliest guest there-lovlier far even than the golden-haired Hortense.
 Absorbed in her duties as hostess, ATadnTaa WorDo dfG ant Uofiaa q tho others did, q strange thing that took place as M. Moran seated himself and glanced toward the strange guest. As their eyes met each turned deadly pale, and each seemed to find it impossible to look away.
 Once only did the strange girl speak In whisper to Nm. Verne.
 ''This is betrothaI feast, madame?'
 "Yes, my child.''
 "Your granddaughter, the beautiful young lady yonder. is to marry M. Octave Moran?"
 Precisely; in two months
 After this she said nothing more.
 At last they were about to leave the table, and the old grandfather arose. He had something to say to the young couple-kind admonitions to him who
  ing; but he ended thus:
 "But give her to you gladly, my dear Octave, for I know you to be an honorable man; and believe you will give her heart as pure and fresh and all unwritten as the one she gives to you, heart worthy of her acceptance"
 As he uttered the last sentence Oc- tave Moran had slowly turned his face, as though attracted by some mesmeric influence, toward the stranger. Their eyes had met and fixed in a strange stare; the other guests were all star Ing at them.
 Suddenly Octave Moran started to his feet and dashed out of the room. There were thirteen at the table. Something flashed into the hand of the pale woman, at whom all gazed and she fell forward upon the table. When they lifted her they found q dagger buried in her heart. l.