Hot Springs weekly star. (Hot Springs, S.D.) 1892-1917, 1899-09-08
C,HARlOE IT, NJ. BRAEf1E


sNiIl ~. ~slAI istA Ib'tt'lI w Y
self. wise people iell us that there is Il
doctrine If compensation by which all.
things arc naip cu1ai. l should like to
see ANY wise man who woul,l tell mo that
ana as Aapps, As prosperous. as beloved
rs i.rnnr, -Nudlev."
IN, -.r. missing stood at the Open
French window ri a beautifully Furnished
DRAWN room. Ola Il couch at the end of
thu rooiu '.y 4, lady sleeping. with an ca-
prcsS."n ii angelic patience Oh what had
been Il beautiful ia.c. the blinds We're
drawn io >hit oni the sunlight. TN "a ia
Bile h. f,l SIIr s.uoi every uXury that
love could uipcnfe-;. plate OF grapes. n
ripe peach. hooks periodicals. flowers. The
hand, OF The sleeping woman were folded
in that most p.tiful and helpless fashion
which tells that one is almost blind. The
girl al he pltn window had been reading
to her. and. iindin. ner asleep. had gone
to look for the first amusement which
offered itself. From the window She
SIM one of the p~ret,icSi pictures that even
u poet conld dream.
n beautiful sirl. with n figure graceful
and perfect. was standing mn the lawn-n
girl who, from the midst of IL thousand
others. would rivet the eyes and attcn-
ton; n fine. supple figure. full of grand.
free grace, with a frank. brave courage;
limbs that might have made ii <culptor's
study; a beautiful face. fair and sweet.
yet fun OF fire and couragr-thc face Of
a daunticSs woman. whose resources
would he endless. Looking nj her. one
Thought, almost ~involuntarily. of the great
queens whose names live in legend and
song.
She was standing near Il large acn,ia
tree The white blossoms of which She
shook from time To time from her dress
and her bright hair. Two gentlemen were
with her, and nj first sight yon you'd have
dubbed one knight. the other poet. Cyril
Leslie Vernon. II tall. dark man. with y
proud yet frank face, Il rourtly manner.
Il k~ni.ilt!y figure. powerful and we'll
built. stood on her right hand. Austin
Cnandos, on whose spiritual face poet was
written. stood on her left. She looked
from one To the other viii, II laughing
light i'll her lovely eyes.
My knight and my poet" she said.
"yon viii latter me until i believe my
Self really a queen. Who says | am like
Diane. who is 4 dream Of l~ovcline~s!'
~ say ill.," replied Cyril Vernon. raising
hi cap and howinS.
WHO says | am like the queen. whom
To look N WAS 10 listen TO muse. and to
love WIS in;.ineSs.'
II say so" replied Austin Chandos.
bowling low.
The sweet. sunny laugh rang ont in the
sun.ii air.
II must hank you both. ycntlcnen."
SAID the cheerful voice. "Iou compare
me i" tcrnin"s OF every kind and degree
t" u'ieriis. whose very souls We're dark
with Guilt. and TO sirens who by songs
l'ssra iacn 10 deaih. l ought to be more
tlai;ered than ! am
IN" laughter died away in her face. and
n lighl came over it. us she raised her
head proudly and said:
"Tirre's only one title that plea ses me.
and it is n soldiers daughter am
prolder of being Col. John Aualey's
daughter than / should he of being crown
cd sovereign of the British Isles and In.
dia."
DO you remember anything of India -
asked Austin. the poet.
MOT very much. At times a dream
comes 10 me Of fierce sunshine and huge
trees. of dark figures, with quiet, SLY
movements. of sitting under the shade
md listening to the military band. my
and fast claSped in my fathcr's."
India can have no very pleasant mem
cries for YOU" said Cyril. the knight.
The beautiful face grew pale and sad.
NC. do not speak ef it. To other peo-
pie it is all II thing of the past. to me
it is SO horribly real. We lived at Gavin
pore; we had Il lovely house there: it was
buried in scarlet flowers. | have the
whole OF the scene before me now. There
was Il fierce clamor-a wild. terrible
shout. My father rushed into the room
--pnlu t,i.uthlnSS su-nr1 in J,n,l NJ.
mother eilspcd me to her. | heard moth.
ing hut the clash of swords, the cries of
m, mother and aunt. my fathers deem
voice ringing AS he called them dastards
to hurt Il woman and child. /. who sneak
10 You 30 safe in the heart OF this green
land. | saw my pretty. girliSh aunt kill
ed, | saw my father carried off: and /
MIS- left. 81 they told iue. with my moth
er ~ dead. My father was shot that
same day, fighting to the last moment for
the English ladies and children who were
alone and d"fcnseleSs."
Her voice rang out, clear AS the sound
OF n clarion.
nohl.r soldier ever served England,
or fell III India. than my father, John
Audley my one great pride is that l am
his child. My mothers life and mine
We're saved by Scrgt. Maj. Henry Bca-
ton: he helped US safely OF to alsland;
and my mother broiyht his daughter.
Glade. back with her. Both her " PARENTS
were subsequently killed. and she has
been our adopted child and sister ever
since. and Will he while we live: the old
ties are strong
What a childhood" said Austin, the
poet; IL do not like to think of it."
Eyes. it was different 10 the childhood
of little English girls. who seem to me to
live among flowers and kind words. One
thing often rerurs to me: we brought with
us an old Indian ayah. who had been my
nurse: she used to open my hand and look
into it. Warfare and b%loodshed,' she
would say. when the line Of life began
and, bloodshed again-what a fate for
little missy"
THAT is all nonsense" said Cyril, the
knight. II do not believe in any OF those
~superstitious fancies.'
II am sorry to say that 1 do" said
Austin Chandos. II nave know1 mose