Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1900-08-30

\ SIRENS VICTIMS ;
- By Frances Warner Walker. &
- *


IN '0N 60
fancied all was lost, and 10! tonight
the very goal was reached--the goal
beyond her widest dreams or hores.
In the beautiful old house, surround
ed by its spacious park, which was
pointed out to strangers, not only as
one of the city's most elegant homes,
but as belonging to m of its Oldest
and most aristocratic names, she now
stood, mistress alike of house and
name.
To such title she had already decreed
Grace Hawthorne must, sooner or lat er,
hold only secondary claim. She doubt
ed not her own diplomacy to effect this
end. And IL diplomacy failed-why,
there were other means.
But that the pale child, whose small,
cold, trembling hand had been extend
ed to her in welcome, could prove, in
any way, an obstacle between her and
the plans Of her ambition, was not, for
a moment, to be considered.
Suddenly. the yellow eyes darkened.
the pupils contracted, the smile died,
and a tiny frown puckered the low
brow. A cloud had swept. across the
sur upon the horizon of her thought.
She sighed.
A strange look of softness rested on
her face.
Harvey" she murmured: Harvey!
why did you help me do this thing?"
Then. as IL impatient of her own
weakness, she recrossed the floor, and,
h~esitating but an instant before the
closed door, softly opened 1t and en-
tered the adjoining room.
Fifteen minutes later, aid on the
lounge drawn near his bed, she lay,
wrapped in a dreamless slumber, while
her young husband, forgetful CT his
pain. and welcoming w~akefulness. lay
and watched her with eyes of worship
full fondness.
Only last night he had well-nigh
cursed her, and to-night-it seemed TO
him an eternity must be vouchsafed to
him for atonement.
So he reasoned while she slept-the
only one OF the little household, except
ing those who made up it's domestic
service, from whose eyes sleep had not
been bapished-she who to others had
decreed the Punishment Of Morpheus,
herself accepted his embrace.
Alone in his library Edgar REYNOLDS
1hN hiANAl WIG iAC" piohV. oNi ShSO
had reached him OF the early
life of the woman whom fate had
thrown across his sons ~path-whom
fate tonight had brought beneath his
roof, and had made a sharer OF the
proud old name-a name sometimes
Swallowed by the reckless living of it's
men, but never hitherto furnished by
the lack of purity and honor of any OF
its women.
Yet, she was his sons wife. Well, he
would not begin the new life by suspi-
cion. He would judge her by the flu
ture. not her past. After ALL, nothing
definite had been said or proven
against her; and what woman, young,
beautiful and unprotected, a escape
the breath of scandal?
But 1t was broad daylight when he
forced himself to accept this latter
reasoning, and his soul sickened with
instructive dread.
He knew not that in the room above
him another vigil was being kent, as
Grace, sitting beside her open window,
as h had sat m~otionless through the
long hours of the night. watched the
first faint herald in the east of the ris-
ing sun.
She had needed the darkness, the ST.
lence, the nights sympathy, while she
shivered, all unconsciously to herself,
in the throes which marked the birth
of her woman's soul.
How strange the law in human life!
that birth and suffering are
nous terms. from the birth of life it
self to that of all the noble or ignoble
qualities which are to dominate that
life!
She knew not all hat these pangs
portended. She only knew that every
nerve was strained to bear the burden
of her anguish. About her heart was a
sense of ~suffocating pain.
She held both hands tight pressed
upon 1t, with a sort of mute CONTEMPT
that they were so small. and soft. and
white, and failed so utterly to crush
down the nameless agony which grew
into absolute physical hurt.
n wonder that ne loved her!"
thought the child, in loyal acknowledg-
ment of the marvellous beauty of the
face whose smiling eyes had held her
spell-bound beneath their gaze. "She
is so beautiful, and her voicel I never
heard a voice which held such music!
But-but will her hand be ever ready
tonight, for Harry's needs? VIII she
make the long hours less wearisome to
him? All, yes. yesl I cannot be So
mean and pitiless that already I should
question her. oh, God" her heart cried
out. as she fell upon her knees in the
faint morning light, teach me to be
true to myself, worthy the love to
which I must henceforth give no
name!