The Bowbells tribune., 1900-08-31
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5 A SIRENS VICTIMS !
y By Frances Warner Walker. q
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By Frances Warner Walker.
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Only last night, at this hour, she had
| fancied all was lost, and 10! tonight,
the very goal was reached-the goal
beyond her widest dreams or hopes.
| In the beautiful old house, surround
| ed by it's spacious park, which was
| pointed out to strangers, not only as
one of the citys most elegant homes,
| but as belonging to one Of it's 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 later,
hold only secondary claim. She doubt
ed not her own diplomacy to effect this
end. And If 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 tiny frown puckered the low
brow. A cloud had swept across the
| sun 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 if impatient of her own
weakness, she recrossed the floor, and,
hesitating but an instant before the
closed door, softly opened it and en-
tered the adjoining room.
Fifteen minutes later, and on the
lounge drawn near his bed, she lay,
wrapped in dreamless slumber, while
her young husband, forgetful Of his
pain, and welcoming wakefulness. lay
and watched her with eyes Of worship
ful 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 its domestic
service, from whose eyes sleep had not
been banished-she who to others had
decreed the Punishment Of Morpheus,
herself accepted his embrace.
Alone in his library Edgar Reynolds
sat until the new dawn broke. Strange
rumors 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 sharer of the
proud old name-a name sometimes
shadowed by the reckless living of its
men, but never hitherto tarnished 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 fu-
ture, not her past. After ALL, nothing
definite had been said or proven
: against her: and what woman, young
beautiful and unprotected. can escape
the breath of scandal?
|. But it 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 kept, as
Grace, sitting beside her open window,
as she had sat motionless 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 synony-
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 that these pangs
portended. She only knew that every
nerve was strained to bear the burden
of her anguish. About her seart was a
!: sense of suffocating pain.
She held both hands tight pressed
upon it, with a sort of mute contempt
|. that they were so small. and soft, and
J white, and failed so utterly to crush
down the nameless agony which grew
into absolute physical hurt.
"No wonder that he loved herr"
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 voice! never
heard a voice which held such music!
But-but will her hand be ever ready
tonight, for Harry's needs? Will she
make the long hours less wearisome to
him? All. yes. yes! I cannot be Sc
mean and pitiless that already 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 must henceforth give no
name!
CHAPTER vi.
Two weeks had slipped away, when
the Reynolds carriage, with all its ele-
CANT appointments. drove slowly up the
broad avenue which led to the open