The sun. (Jacksonville, Fla.) 1905-1908, 1906-04-14
THE SUN

pered reply. her mlnu 10 anecVeu'
She is, unfortunately, a hopeless luna
tic"
I looked straight into those sad, wide
open, yet unfinching brown eyes utterly
COMPOUNDED.
Those white wrists held in steel, that
pale face and blanched lips, the inertness
of her movements, all told their own
tragic tale. And yet that letter / had
read, dictated in secret most probably
because her hands were not free, was
certainly not the outpourings OF mad.
woman. She had spoken OF death, 1t
was true, yet was it not to be supposed
that she was slowly being driven to sui
cider She had kept her secret, and she
wished the man Hornby-the man who
was to marry Muriel Leithcourt-to
know.
The room in which we stood was evil
IDENTIFY an apartment set apart for hel
use, for beyond was the tiny bed-cham'
Der; yet the small, high-up window was
closely barred, and the cold baroness Of
the prison was sufficient indeed to cause
anyone confined there to prefer death to
captivity.
Again I spoke to her slowly and
kindly, but there was no response. That
she was absolutely dumb was only toe
apparent. Yet surely she had not al
ways been so! I had gone in search
of her because the beauty of her portrait
had magnetized me, and I had now found
her to be even more lovely than her pic
ture, yet, alas! suffering from an afflic
ton that rendered her life a tragedy
The realization of the terrible truth
staggered me. Such perfect face as
hers l had never before set eyes upon
so beautiful, 80 clear-cut, so refined, &C
eminently the countenance of one well
born, and yet SO ineffably sad, SO full o.
blank, unutterable despair.
She placed her clasped hands to hel
mouth and made signs by shaking hel
head that she could neither understand
nor respond / therefore took my wallet
from my pocket and wrote upon a piece
of paper in large hand the words: 81
come from Lydia Moreton. My name is
Gordon Gregg"
When her eager gaze fell upon the
words she became instantly filed with
excitement, and nodded quickly. Then
holding her steel-clasped wrists towards
me she looked wistfully at me, as though
imploring me to release her from the
awful bondage in that silent tomb.
Though the woman who had led me
there endeavored to prevent it, handed
her the pencil, and placed the paper or
the table for her to write.
The nun tried to snatch it ND, but ]
held her arm gently and forcibly, saying
in French:
able. At length, however, after several
attempts, she succeeded in printing in
uneven capitals the response:
~ know you. You were on the yacht
l thought they killed YOU"
The thin-faced old woman saw her re-
sponse--a reply that was surely rational
enough-and her brows contracted with
displeasure,
"Why are you herew I wrote, not al.
lowing the sister to get sight of my ques.
ton.
In response she wrote painfully and
laboriously:
~ am condemned for crime I did
not commit. Take me from here, OF I
shall kill myself.
"Ah!" exclaimed the old woman. "You
see, poor girl, she believes herself limo.
cent! They all do"
But why is she herei" l demanded
fiercely.
~ do not know, m'sieur. It is not nv
duty to inquire the history of their
crimes. When they are ill nurse them;
that is ALL"
And who is the commandant of this
fortressH"
Colonel Smirnoff. If he knew that I
had admitted you, you would never leave
this place alive. This is the Schussel-
burg of Finland-the place of imprison-
ment for those who have conspired
against the state"
"The nriRon of y,ol;t;col corsD;-okox.