Newport daily independent., 1902-09-18


 tore the crape mask from his face 1 Then a sharp cry broke from her
 T know you!" she cried. "Oh, l know youl"
 Before she could say more she was struggling in the highwayman's grasp, and his hand was over her mouth.
 Gan I trust you to keep silent-lf I spare your emeralds?"
 She nodded her head; and, as he removed his hand, T will keep si- lent-on my honor" she whispered
 'yery well, take the stones" He handed her the jewels; then added, half under his breath, I'm not rob ping for my own sake."
 It was doubtful if the girl heard him, for she had sprung back into the carriage.
 The highwayman looked in, and as he met the look in Clara Stanhope's eyes, he realized what he had won and lost.
 Drive on you pair of frightened curs!' he cried to the coachman and 1 footman, and the carriage rumbled swiftly away. Suddenly, above the sobbing of the women inside, he heard cry, and the carriage window was flung open.
 Here, I don't want your bribe; l take it."
 A flash of green shot through the air, and Clara Stanhope's emeralds fell on the path. The highwayman left them there. People supposed afterward he had dropped them in his flight
 1 Lady Halcross never recovered her 1 diamonds, and the mysterious high wayman was never discovered. The l detectives had many theories, and were quite certain who the man was. 1 He had been wanted for some time, and was q notorious criminal, they said. Clara Stanhope used to smile when she heard them talking; but her smile was very sad one. And, out in Texas, Roger Meredith was learning to write his name on clean slate, the name of an honest man, the memory of girls face ever with him, and her indignant cry ring ing in his ears. The words Clara Stanhope spoke when she hurled her emerald tiara through the carriage window were branded upon his soul.
 The life he lived was a hard one, but at least clean one; he was alone for days, but the wild life of the ranch suited him, and the loneliness of the young country appealed to him. He liked to look at the stars at night and remember that they shone on the land of his birth; that the same monday sun poured it's rays on the old land and the new. He felt that he was done with his home for ever; that he was exiled by his own deed from intercourse with the wo- man he still loved; but, all the same, he intended to work out a new life, for-well, perhaps for her sake, per haps for his own, for his old life and old sins had grown distasteful to Roger Meredith. He knew there was something better in life than any thing he had found yet, and he had strange sort of feeling that Clara would understand one day the real Roger Meredith, understand and for give him.
 So the days passed on-days in which the mans character ripened and strengthened, and the careless, good-for-naught developed into grave, reliant man, man who did his duty. neither asking nor expect ing reward
 Clara waited at home, waited as women have to wait, keeping her love story to herself-her unbroken, un- finished love story.
 She sometimes heard news of Roger through the bishop of Radford, who delighted to speak of his nephew to sympathetic listener.
 Getting on splendidly, my dear, splendidly. Put his shoulder to the wheel at last Ahl I always said there was good stuff in Roger. Texas is making man of him."
 Clara used often to go and lunch at the bishops residence and talk to the old man. She was very fond of the bishop, but not even to herself would she confess that she still cared for the bishops nephew-the high wayman, the thief. One day she heard a piece of news that colored her face, and set her heart beating wildly.
 My nephew Roger has had to come home. My brother is not at all well, and he wanted to see Roger again before he died. The dear boy n1.ri,.nd Inst ,..nnlr. he will he staNinn