The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-11-23
FACE TO FACE.
BY JOHN W. KNEEsHAw.

caused by the knowledge that he had lost
the one woman he loved. He realized that
she could not marry a convict, and IL she
were willing to wait and throw In her lot
with him, her friends would not permit the
sacrifice. But the pain OF the knowledge
that he had lost her was as nothing to the
torture of knowing Charles Debenham had
won her. Yet here she was the wife of his
old comrade. the mistress OF his house, the
mother or his child. Oh. the agony of it,
In MS fury and torture he pressed his
race into the soft grass TO stifie a groan
which was half a curse and clenched the
ground with his hands
When he looked UP again Clara had seat
ed herself under tree on the other side of
the lawn and had taken the child on her
knee, and the two were chatting merrily.
laughing heartily, and punctuating their
pleasant discourse with kisses and endear-
ments Clara looked less radiant than when
ne last saw her, but the gentle smile that
hovered round her lips she talked with
the little one was very sweet and recalled
that happy day when he had first held her
in his arms.
linen there was the sound of wheels on
the road, the garden gate flew open, and
the child suddenly scrambled to the ground
and rushed off to meet a gentleman who
was entering. 1t was Charles Debenham
himself. and, picking the tiny dot up in his
arms and kissing her. he crossed to Clara's
side, she on her part receiving him with a
glad smile that was gan and wormwood
to the unseen watcher.
1t was too far away for George Carforth
to hear what was said There was an earn
est conversation for some moments, then
cara rose hurriedly, and they all passed
into the house.
quarter of an hour later they emerged
once more, and this time Clara was dressed
ior a journey. She was assisted into a gig,
charles sprang in after her and they drove
uo"n the road, leaving the little one peep
ing out through the gate after them
When they had finally disappeared the
child returned contentedly to the lawn and
began 10 play happily. Meantime the
thought OF terrible revenge had come to
the watcher. Vengeance was here to his
hand-a more sure and safe retaliation than
| he had thought of before
Half an hour later there was no child
| playing the lawn and when a nurse
whose business it was to keep an eye on
| Its doings. looked out. ii was nowhere to
| be seen. 1t had vanished completely. But
what the servant did not see, because of
the Intervening grove of shrubs.
| man nearly mile away, hurrying over the
fields with a little girl in his arms.
George Carforth had no difficulty in OBJ
tanning possession of the child. 1t wandered
| to his side of the lawn. Then a mans face
rose over a bush and pair OF arms was
| stretched toward il. He was taken a little
aback when in the utmost confidence and
readiness the little dot, after one glance at
his face. came forward and yielded herself
/ to him. The spirit of trust and possibly
OF adventure was great in its tiny soul.
There was not a person in sight, and, pick
ing up the baby, he plunged into the copse
and out into the sunlit fields beyond.
| He had not had much experience with
| children, and he expected this one to cry
| Justify, and he would have acted sharply
| IL occasion required. Instead the small
maiden showed not the least fear or alarm,
but seemed thoroughly TO enter into the
adventure.
| Going to papa?" she asked looking smil-
ingly into his eyes with her little hand
| on his neck.
YES" he answered, and she clapped her
hands merrily
| Apparently she considered ii a very happy
arrangement for her to be carried rapidly
| over the fields where there were so many
novel things to be seen; and George Car
| forth. to his own establishment found him
| self pointing out the cows and sheep and
other objects Of interest, even while he was
intent on hurrying on and avoiding all OBJ
servation.
What is 90 name?" she asked
George" he replied.
"Doge" she repeated. II like 90, Doge,"
and to his dismay two tiny arms were
placed around his neck and two ripe little
| lips were held UP to be kissed
| OF course he kissed her. He would have
been all brute had he refused child's
innocent kiss. He was less brute after he
| had kissed her. 1t was the first kiss he
had known for years, and part of his mo-
| rose bitterness disappeared with IL. His
| revenge was not going to be so easy. Had
| the child struggled cried he could have
used it roughly. He had intended to rush
with 1t to London and there lose it in the
| slums, to grow up as it might. II was a
diabolical revenge, worthy OF a fiend.
George Carforth was not quite fend,
| though well advanced, so he felt little
conjunction in face OF the child's conf
| dence.
For the next half hour the baby was
puzzled, and il had its doubts concerning
it's new acquaintance, for George would
not speak to it. He was gloomy and mo-
rose and scowl rested his face. To
tell the truth, he had repented him of his
kindness TO the child and he was recount
ing to himself the wrongs he had suffered
| at the hands of the baby's parents, and
he was trying to steel his heart against
its Establishments and against the gentler
thoughts that had begun to spring up in
his heart.
| At last he reached a place where he
could rest an hour or two secure from OBJ
| seryation II was a little dingle among
| the woods, and here he decided to stay
until ii was dark. Then he would take
the child's hat and lay it on the banks
of the river near its home. After that he
would make his way to quiet railway
station and plunge into London while the
distracted parents were examining the