Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-06-17
THE WAXING OF BRUNTIILD
Continued from page s


of the girl beside her-but if she had perhaps
she would have noticed no change, for the
twilight was gone now from the windows, and
the fire had sunken to few red Goals in the
CRATE
After little, the calm, sweet voice went on.
She was nearly five years old when we came
to America 1t was very happy voyage.
Everybody on the steamer noticed her for her
beauty and her pretty ways and her bird-hke
little voice. l remember one man in partie-
ular who could hardly take his eyes from her
face, and who used to say there would be a
fortune in her voice He tried his best to coax
her to make friends with him. He wore "a
huge seal ring that fascinated her; but he
spoke German with peculiar accent that must
have frightened her, for she would notrhave
much to do with him. But that has nothing
to do with the story | am telling you. 1t, was
unlike her-usually she was all confding
friendliness. 5,'1--'
81 cannot tell much about the way.it hap
pened-the thing that did happen. We could
never quite understand. The steamer was
late in reaching New York, and it was dusk
when we got to the landing We were just
going ashore, when l remembered something
I had left behind in the cabin, and went back
to get it. l was gone SO long that Emil fol-
lowed me to help in my search, leaving the
child in safe nook on the deck and charging
her not to stir till we returned.
Il suppose it was the stir and excitement
of it all that made her forget what he had said.
Perhaps she some of the people who had
made pet of her, going ashore, and tried to
follow them. All that we can never know.
She must have tried to slip across to the wharf,
and in the excitement and confusion been
pushed into the water without anyone seeing
her or hearing her cry out 1t seemed impos-
sible-too cruel for belief; and we would not
believe it, but hunted frantically, everywhere
Then somebody saw dark object floating
the water 1t was her little straw hat. And
when they turned search-hghts on the water,
there, little way off, was the old rubber dolly
she had had in her arms when we left her. We
never found her body. | think it would have
comforted Emil little if we had. 1t is many
years since then.
That is the story, my dear: and perhaps
if Herr Reinhardt last night was"
The door between the parlor and the music
room adjoining was flung open, interrupting
her. and Ned and the professor came in arm
in arm, laughing and chatting.
why, you're all dark here!' The boy
paused by the door to press button, and the
room was flooded with light.
And then a strange thing happened in the
childless mothers brain. The image of her
child, recalled so wildly by the story she had
been relating that it had seemed to hover be-
fore her, half reality in the dull glow of the
dying fire, had not vanished as such visions
are won't to do, but seemed to grow clear,
strong, definite; to become embodied before
her, flesh and blood again, in the form of the
girl she now saw clearly for the first time
the shop-grl in the shabby dress, with the
heavy bra1dS OF beautiful hair.
What is it, Ned?" asked the professor,
pathetically conscious of some tension the
cause of which his blind eyes could not see.
as there somebody here?"
THE girl who sat next us last night.
The professor started across the room,
stretching out his hand vaguely, not knowing
where his visitor seated.
Instantly his wife was by his side, restrain
ing hand on his arm: Wait, EMIL Wait,
dearest She's speaking to us!'
But it was not to them she was speaking.
Her thoughts were forming themselves uncon-
sciously into words. She was groping-grop-
ing-through mist.
II told him-told-him-I had not-leave
to go. He said-he told mel might have
the ring. He said-he said-we would go find
my father. My arm hurt, he pulled it So He
said-said-he would throw me in the water
if 1 cried. He-threw-my hat in, to show
me; and Gretchen-Dolly-"
Emil Reinhardt's wife could hold him back
no longer. He was bending over the girls
chair, pale as parchment, shaking like leaf
in November winds, his blind eyes wide, blood
shot, staring. WHO are your" he whispered
hoarsely. "Who are your"
She looked up at him, smiling dreamily, a
slow, uncertain smile. Her voice was sweet
and faltering as she answered, like the voice of
child who is not yet sure of speech: "Ieh-