The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-01-28
CHAPTER xIv.-contInued.
The Woman Of the Photograph.

Dick Knight looked straight into them.
. DO you remember" he began, when 1
asked you if you could not have been
mistaken in thinking this a portrait Of a
woman you had known in her girlhood
seven-and-twenty years ago. you an
swered that it could not be SO: there was
only one Eve Desmond in the world!
Well, now tell you, Sir Peter that there
was only one woman In the world like my
mother. This is her picture, and, what is
more, l am sure now that this isn't the
first time I've seen this photograph. l re-
member my mother showing it to me. 1t
is the only one ever saw Of her. ,5
Sir Peter gazed at him almost stupidity.
like a man who wakes from dream and
cannot be sure that he does not still
dream. your nother-Eve Desmond I
can't believe it. Surely you would have
known her name
Il was only years old when--I lost
her" Dick said, sadly. ~. ~ 49,
Suddenly Sir Peter seemed to wake from
his dream. ''she died?" he stammered.
'Yes-I know. You told me once that
your mother died. But then I could not
guess that she-tell me everything over
again-all your history, Knight-all that
concerns her.
In the waverng candlelight his face
looked drawn and pale. In five minutes
he had aged twice many years. Shall
we sit and tak?" Dick asked, taking pity
upon him. Sir Peter sank down on the
sofa, whose embroidered cushions were
still fragrant from the vanished presence
of the mysterious lady of the yacht. Dick
placed the two candles, now in elaborate
silver candlesticks. on the low table,
where the scattered books and papers lay.
Then he sat down in the chair directly
opposite Sir Peter.
''rrhe IF hoe
like a clear white light shining on the dark
places Of my life" he said, gently. "She
has been to me like star My childhood
has no history apart from her. until the
first chapter. Of which she was the deaf
and beautiful heroine, was broken short
/ hardly know what to tell you Of her
except to say that she was like an angel
When she used to read to me in the Bible
or other books about angels, I always
imagined that they must be like her
What our name was 1 didn't know
was taught to call her mother, and she
called me Dick. [ was too young to know
that it was necessary to have other names
besides mother and Dick. We lived in diff
ferent places. big towns and little towns
ana even tiny villages. They are dim a:
dreams to me now. Only my mother:
image stands out clear. We were alwav.
together, she and I, never separated
Vaguely I had the tmpression-instinc
ti'SiS' SuppoSe-lidt SQG wasn't happy
used to try and comfort her. and sh,
would cling to me and lay her beautifu
golden head on my little childish shoulde
sobblng out that was all she had in tn,
world l used to feel. too that Their,
was a kind Of blight upon us-that I wal
different from other little boys. We hae
always to keep moving on; we had neye
settled home. It was as if someon,
unseen and unknown hunted us merciless
~ from place to place; there was neve
any rest for long. Once remember ask
ing why hadn't a father as Csler bow
had, and i can see my mothers face nov
when put that question. She didn't an
sWer at first, but held me close in he
arms, SO that I could feel her heart throb
bling, and as I looked up at her to fin,
out why she didn't speak could see tina
she was very pale, with trembling lips
and great eyes that stared unseeingly an
mournfully over my head. At last sh
spoke and told me that had father
just as other little boys had: that 7 mis-
always remember that, and-''
Dicks voice broke SO suddenly that ST
Peter started into alertness. "And what?'
he demanded, when the young man
pause began to seem unaccountably long.
would rather not finish what I wa
going to say Sir Peter" he replied frank
~. In recalling that day, and what m
mother told me, something came bacl
to my recollection which gave me sur
prise. l don't quite see what it mean
yet, or of how much importance it ma
be, but if it turns out to be of Importance
at all events it concerns myself alon
for the present. Honestly. I do not thin
it would interest you at the moment ]
is enough to say that my mother reas
sured me, tenderly always, telling IN
that my father was not one to be ashame
Of, rather the reverse, but that it nigh
be l would never see him, and asking
could not be satisfied and happy alon
with her. Of course. I kissed her, an
answered that was both and never re
ferred to the subject again. But some
times, when I saw her looking pale an
sad. and very. very i'll. I was afrai
that she was thinking Of it, and it SCENE
as if my heart must break.
wherever we went / used always t
have a little bed in her room, and on
day I woke up and ran to kiss her goo
morning as usual, but she did not. ope
her eyes and smile as she always had be
fore. She lay still, and her hand whe
I took it. icy cold and very heav
to lift. 1 tried again and again to wax
her, and when she did not answer or NOV
but lay quite silent with far-off. strane
smile on her lips, I rushed out Of til
room and called for help. People came
for it was in an hotel-and doctor we