The daily Alaskan., 1906-01-12
The Missing Necklace
LOriglnal.l


 A young girl and her mother are re turning from ball. The girl is but eighteen, and she has appeared in so- cIety for the first time. She leans back In her carriage, the gay scenes whlrl- Ing delightfully."- through her brain and thinking especially of the first man who has ever been attentive to her. A warmth comes to her cheek on recall Ing the compliment he whispered in her ear as they were sailing in waltz.
 Suddenly she puts her hand to her throat and gaSps:
 "Oh. mammaw
 "For heavens sake, Bessie, what Is It?"
 My necklace! It's gone~
 She had gone to the ball with a cir clet of pearls of great yalU& clasped about her neck and returned without them. In vain she sought to recall where she might have dropped them. Could any thief possibly have stolen up behind her and unclasped them? All efforts to account for the loss were failures. Detectives were put on the case, but not the slightest clew did they ever find. After months of hunt ting, without success, the jewels were given up as lost.
 Twenty-Five years have passed. Bes- sle Kingman, now woman past mid dle age, but unmarried, is sitting in her boudolr after breakfast scanning the morning paper. There is a whistle without, a ring at the doOrbell and the postman leaves the mail. A maid hands her mistress a small package which, the wrapper being removed, proves to be a pasteboard box. Lift Ing the lid from the box, Miss King man meets the astonishment of her life. There, nestling in a bed of pink cotton, Is the necklace lost a quarter of a century before.
 Curiosity, one of the strongest of our instincts, prompts her first act. Tax ing up the wrapper, she studies the handwriting of the address. She can see no resemblance to any penmanship she has ever seen before. One thing, and one thing only, arrests her atten- ton. Frank Burrill, the young man who had been devoted to her the night of the ball at which she had lost her necklace, had written her several notes, which she had kept carefully locked in her writing desk. He had a peculiar way of making the letter F. This let ter in the address reSembled those in her notes, but there was not enough in this to serve as Clew.
 
 Another five years have passed. Elizabeth Kingman is a woman with more gray than black in her hair and when she reads uses glasses. She still has the letters of Frank Burrill locked ln her desk, and perhaps once a year takes them out and reads them over. Be has been married for nearly thirty years, and she has never seen him since his marriage.
 One morning on taking up paper and glanclng at the death notices she saw an announcement of the death of his wife. It was a few months after this that she received a visit from her first and only lover. He was just pass Ing the prime of life for a man. Miss Kingman saw In him traces of that manly beauty-his engaging smile was all there-which had so moved her heart when it was young. Burrill came often, and the two became fast friends. Once Miss Kingman mentioned the loss and return of her necklace. Mfr. Bur Till strove to maintain a serene counte- nance under her searching gaze, but could not. Miss Kingman assumed that he had been tempted in those dan gerous days of youth and had repented. She forgave him without telling him of her forgiveness.
 In another year wedding bells rang for the pair whose hearts had been united years before. Each possessed a secret that was kept well guarded from the other. Except this they were as one. The wife hid her knowledge, or, rather, a belief of which she had no doubt, that her husband had fallen be fore temptation, had repented and been forgiven. The husband guarded bis own secret which he of living be ings alone knew. Their days were se- rene except for an occasional cloud that passed momentarily over their sun in this one matter of withheld confidence.
 
 Again the scene changes. An old wo- man of seventy, who has just buried her husband, is breaking up her home. The desk that has long held his papers must be gone over and all that is no longer of use destroyed. The old wo- man spends a morning at this work. One paper she reads before knowing of It's confidential nature. It is this:
 My Dear Husband-I have lost your love under this suspicion ever since you discovered the necklace. l am Ill and worn out with anxiety and remorse. Aft CT may years keeping this horrid secret, l am at last resolved, now that my days arc numbered, to make a confession of sin committed in my youth. On the night