Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1901-03-28
CHATTER ".

Three days later, and Donald Mark |
ham was laid to his last rest, with all
due pomp and honor, in the family
vault; opened for the first time since 1t
closed on the body of his young wife, |
twenty long years before.
But Beatrice still lay unconscious Of
all that was taking place about her.
The terrible strain upon her brain and
heart had been greater than her
and brain fever had been its
Day and night her cry was. altern-
ately, for Papa and Bertram."
Once or twice her cousin had ventured
into the sick room; but, however in
tense her delirium, his presence always
irritated and excited her.
He had recovered, however his usual
calm. He listened, even to her bitter
derunciation of him in her rawlings,
with smile of irony.
In the household he asserted the place
of the dead master.
On the second day after the tragedy,
when Mr.. Markham's lawyer came
down from the city, he assisted him in
his search among the dead mans pa
pers for his will.
There We're two I drew up myself,
said the lawyer-"one when Beatrice
was a baby, and one not more than
three months ago. In both she was left
the undisputed heiress Of all his prop
erty, except for minor legacies and be-
quests, since in law, in any case, she in
herits as next of kim
To all of which Mr.. Chester smiled
assentingly.
But the search for either will was
vain.
'You say there were two wills
made?" asked Randolph Chester, on the
day following the funeral, when once
more he and the lawyer met in his
uncle's library. Perhaps one is among
Mr.. Markham's papers at your office,
and you have overlooked it,"
He asked the question with an in
drawing of his breath, but drew sigh
of relief at the lawyers answer.
IT drew the will here and left it in
Mr.. Markham's own care. By the way,
Mr.. Chester, you are somewhat the los
err, for it is no breach Of professional
secrecy to tell you that in it you We're
named to the extent of $4,000. He
owed you that, your cousin said. as
some recompense for having married
again, and so cheated you out Of your
otherwise natural rights as his heir"
"By the way, Mr.. Arnold interrupt.
ed the listener, somewhat abruptly,
speaking of professional secrecy, there
is one matter on which wish to speak
to you under its seal. Did my cousin
ever enter into any particulars with you
concern ing his marriage?"
"Never; excepting to refer to it as a
short dream Of untainted bliss. Once,
I remember, he laughed and declared
the only act of impulsive folly he had
permitted himself had turned out the
wisest action Of his life. I believed he
referred to his marriage then, but J
asked no questions"
"Yet your conclusions We're right
MY cousin, Mr.. Arnold, is my affianced
wife; therefore you can comprehend
the sacredness of the secret am about
to confide to you. OF course, her mar
riage to me will do away with any fur.
Their necessity for its revealing. NY
cousins marriage was, indeed, an act
Of folly. In fact it was no marriage at
at all!'
The lawyers professional calm, for
the first time in twenty-five years, de-
serted him as these words fell upon his
ears.
He sprang excitedly from his chair.
What are you saying, Mr.. Chester?"
he asked, excitedly, Indignantly.
II am asserting a truth, Mr.. Arnold.
or, rather, I am betraying a confidence,
for am but repeating to you a story I
CLEANED from my Cousins lips"
Years ago, while travelling in Italy,
he wandered one night into the opera
house at Florence. A young and beau
tiful woman was to make her debut as
prima donna, and the house was crowd
ed from pit to dome.
"She made her entree in the middle
of the first act, and, as she glided upon
the stage, my cousin told me he held
his breath. 1t seemed to him an angel
stood there.
The plaudits and welcome of the
people restored him to earth, and
brought him down from the realms of
heaven, where his fancy had led him.
'Then the house grew silent.
"The low strains of the orchestra an
nounced the prelude to the song. The
debautante stood facing the people.
She opened her lips, but no sound came
forth.
"She had been struck with stage
fright. and her voice had deserted her.
1T was an awful moment. and the
Italians, always excitable forgot her
youth and beauty, and let misses take
the place of cheers.
ut was more than she could bear.
She grew deathly pale, al, Z? beat has
ty retreat from the stage.
"Some one was found to take her
place, and after necessary delay the
opera went on, but to my cousin its
charm had fled.
"Of course, the poor girls career
was ended. She had already received
her discharge from the manager.
when. next morning. my cousin
discovered where she lived. and went
in person to her lodgings to offer her
sympathy and support, he found her
bathed in tears, but more beautiful
than smiling in the glare Of the foot
lights.
(TO he Continually
Hi <~n l1~s,,