River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1900-05-03

I IONl liz ~ ~ - .NoA ~ = III NJ"
a racket. He isn't home-the master.
| saw that in the papers. want her
iewels-she's dying. She won't miss
them. Where are they? Are they in
the secret closet off the dressing-room
at the head of the private staircase?
That is where my wife kept" He
broke off abruptly. Where are they?"
The grip on her throat relaxed.
Il know where you mean" she
cried, in her surprise-her bewilder-
ment. Il know
Why should she not know-she to
whom this house had been a wedding
gift! She. who had once placed her
own Jewels in that same receptacle.
She who had come back as a paid
servitor to the scene of her only full,
real. tra%nscendent happinessl
Quick. then! Quick!"
An encouraging oath from outside
the window reached them. Again the
mans fingers closed around the
smooth throat. You know. Bring
them. then-or. wait-I1l go with you.
But no noise, you understand. Not a
sound, or His right hand slid
backward. He shook before her eyes
the little toy of metal and wood he
drew forth. 81 can find the place
a%lone,' he said. And then, to him
without: Bring the cord, Martyr
In that instant of diverted attention
she wrested herself free.
"Listen!" she gasped. THE woman
is dying. Any commotion will kill her
at once. And l cannot-O!'
Once more the fingers, fierce in a
convolution porn of rage, were at her
throat, and the masked face bent
lower.
You must! You shall-or, by"
The fingers tangled in a chain-a
mere thread of gold. Something fell,
with a mellow clatter to the floor. The
man stopped hastily. He picked up
the fallen bauble.
Don't take that" entreated the
nurse. She had fallen back once more.
at is of no value. That is of no in.
trinsic value. 1t is mine-only mine.
Give it to mel"
She was white as death, and SILVER
ing. when she held out piteous, en-
treating hands. She forgot fear in
desire.
But the man was staring stupidity
down upon the medallion in his palm
an ivory medallion upon which was
painted a girls face. How sweet that
face was-how near, reproachful, ten
der, familiar! A lifted young face,
full of love, loyalty, half-fedged cour-
age. And the shyness that was saint
liness-he knew all these.
Give it to mel" the nurse entreat-
ed. 'Give me my little girls picture.
Give it to me. 1t is all have of value
-Bessie's picture"
The mar hesitated. He still looked
down on the trifle in his great hand
-motionless, entranced. From with
out sounded a crackle of curses.
81 will CO. the man said, 'if you
will answer these questions: Where
is this child? Where is her father!
Why are you here?"
She put out both hands and felt
blindly for the table behind her.
"She is at the Sacred Heart convent
She is good. She is beautiful. HeI
father left his home long ago in a mis-
taken-a jealous-rage." She paused
something in the pose of the great
bulk confronting her-in the echo oil
the voice that had interrogated-made
her nostrils rigid-her lips blue. 81
am here because l must support my
child and myself. That is all"
Your clfTld!" he repeated. He was
gazing down on the bright thing in
the hollow OF his hand. That face!
The broad brow; the eyes. long-lidded
and long-lashed; the serious sweep OF
hair about the temples-these were
his own. And the mouth-those
square-cut. sensitive lips. with the be.
quilting diffidence that was half au.
dacity-those were hers.
Nora" he began. 1t was his old
name for her. mora,
"Git TO work." advised a husky voice
from the outer darkness. "Git tc
work. you bloomin' fool!"
The "bloomin' fool moved nearer tc
the nurse. He had cast aside his dis.
guising hat and 'kerchief.
"Nora. o remember how we came
down here to cook a post-opera supper
one spring night, after we had come
back from New Orleans? / did not
recognize you at first. Dress-time
change-many things. All these have
caused natural alterations" 1t was
no longer the intruder who was speak.
ing. 1t was the conference.-the schol'
ar. eve were so afraid of the cook
omelette DIES herbes. We tried to make
it as it was served to us in dim. dark
dear New Orleans. What dinners we
had il that little, gloomy restaurant
on the Rue Charities! What prowling
in the French quarter! How you hated
the lazy old mules on Tchoupitoulas
street. Then there were mornings in
jackson square! And the strolls
through the French market, and"
There was no installing the fervor
of the curse which came through the
opened window. But the man fingered
although he had handed back the
bauble.
"Do YOU remember?" he insisted.
Gould | forget?" she counter
queried.
The bell rang.
81 am needed" She lifted the pitch.
err of whey. She opened the door
"Gol" she said.
He walked to the threshold-there
paused.
win you tell Bessie"
"What2'
Nothing, Nora. Never mind, dear
You have been gone a long time,
nurse" objected the patient, fretfully
~ am sorry, madam, but the delay
was unavoidable. Drink this"
She slipped her strong arm under
the pillow. She dire, 4 the wavering
head upon il. She h, the cup with
firm fingers. But her gaze strayed to
a corner where a crib used to stand
"a little rose hung crib. where the
original of the portrait on the medal
lion-Baby Bsssie-had lain!-Chica-
go Tribune.
No Use for n Throne.
Napoleon BOnaparte is quoted as
saving to DR.. O'Meara at St. Helena:
IF I was in England now. and the
French nation was to offer me the
throne again, l would not accept of
il, because if 7 was TO do so | would
be obliged to turn bourreau (eNeou-
- ~