The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-04-01
Gle cove Chat never Dies
BY o.
he
All Rights Reserved.

Se'iiAo ilo!i Cle duJOln1nS room anu
was uttering the most passionate en-
treaties to some other person. Before
Beatrice could withdraw, she heard |
her own name.
Eyes, yes, I've brought her here,
brought her with me; she's in the care
OF a lady, a young lady named Mrs. |
Froyle. who promised to take care of
her while I spoke to you" ~
Astonished at this strange account |
OF what had taken place, Beatrice
was about to burst into the sitting
room and to relate what had really
occurred, when mans voice, speak
Ing very sternly. almost fercely, struck
upon her ears, frightening her from
her purpose.
'That's your affair, not mine."
But it is-it is your affair. The
child is your child, and now you are
rich you must keep her. Whatever
I've done, she is innocent, and you
daughter"
you left me, in New York, a year ago,
ran away from me, without a pang,
without a. word, because I was poor,
know you took our child away with
you. How can tell whether it's the
same child you are now bringing back,
or whether you have found one to,
fo1st upon me, now am well off, to
establish some claim upon me?"
FIRED, you're heartless, brutal How
en- you suspect such things? But the
child has my eyes; you won't be able
to deny it; y,o,u! shall see her and judge
"I'll not see her, I tell you. You
chose to desert me. and to take your
child away. You may keep her now"
II will not; cannot. She shall not
starve while you, her father, have
thousands upon thousands"
-
mockingly. you don't appear to be
starving or ragged either"
mot always. I am sometimes"
said the woman, in a choked voice.
Look! Listen! I ask you nothing for
myself, nothing whatever. You can
threaten me. All ask is a home for
my child, your poor child. You may
| be changed, you may be different
man. now you're a viscount, from
what you were in the old days. But
you can't have lost all heart; you can't
| Beatrice felt the tears streaming
from her own eyes, so deeply touched
was she by the woman's passionate
pleading The man, however,
answered never a word.
There was a long, dead silence. Her
silence, to her skirts. After what
seemed a long pause, Beatrice heard
a little sound, like the opening of a
door; then silence again.
| She waited, wondering. Then she
advanced slowly to the door which d.
opened it. Before she entered the
sitting-room she looked round. The
woman was nowhere to be seen. At
the opposite end Of the long room,
crouching over the fire, sat man.
Beatrice coughed; he did not move.
e,fi INV h. ~.
came forward, every trace of color
having left her cheeks.
"Sir," she said, in a stifed, broken
voice, may speak to you?"
On hearing woman's voice which
he did not recognize, the man moved
, clamatiop, he started up, staring at
her and at the child, recoiling, shrink
. ing. j.
With trembling lips she began to ex.
plain: -
my name is Froyle. It was with
me that the lady left-the child"
Before she could utter another wore
the man fell atrembling, and she saw
white beads of sweat glistening on his
forehead. But at the same time there
came over his features such a look Of
: anguish that she felt a pang of the
deepest pity for him, and knew, at the
, same moment, that this was no fierce
and brutal nature, such as she hai
imagined from the tones Of his voice
"Heavens!" cried he. lis sh,
, gomez"
: CT think so, suppose so.
! haven't seen her again." stammeret
Beatrice. .,.
= There was moments pause befor
she could prepare herself for tn
> strange, the terrible story she had t.
= tell. But before she could speak, tn
. man had sat down again, and, bending
Cow o,~1 ir,fo oh
= face thru tears which welled up to hi
| own eyes. Intent as was his gaze
: stern as was his expression, the littl
: one did not finch, did not cry, bu
e stood looking at him wonderingly.
|. Suddenly he stretched out his hand
9 laid it on the childs head, and sale
hoarse1y:
will you take care of herr don
know who you are madam, but 70
have a mothers face, and, I'm sur,
a mothers heart. Keep this littl
one for me- and you and she sha
have every luxury, every pleasure an
comfort can procure you both" An
the head with sort Of grudgini
frightened tenderness strange and pit
eous to see.
But" stammered Beatrice, thur
derstruck at his mistake. you don
understand; you won't let me explain
You've made a mistake
The man rose and stood up to HI
full height, revealing spare til
broadly built figure some six feet !
height, and a careworn, rugged fac
with a long, fair beard, and hair I
a slightly sandy tint which lay in uttl
curling rings on his forehead.
'"Then beg your pardon. T didn
understand. II you are too well o
to undertake such a charge, forgi1
me. AS I<said, I didn't know
The ground seemed to swim roun
Beatrice.
'Tm-rm not well off," gasped sh
"But-but--'
r. The temptation was rising to h,
head, filling every vein Of her bod,
!. the temptation to take advantage
= this mans mistake, to pass off h,
q own child as that of the other woma