The star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1908-1909, 1908-09-14
continued From saturday.


from her breast-there her white robe
was darkly stained with blood. She
pointed to the stain, and then replaced
the flowers. ] understood.
Murdered" ! whispered. more to
myself han to my pale visitor-'mur-
dered!"
mo one knows, and nc n prays
for me-" walled the faint, sweet spirit
Voice-''and though | am dead | can
not rest. Pray for mel am tired!"
And her slender read dropped weari-
ly-she seemed about to vanish. | con-
duered my rising terrors by a strong
effort, and said:
Tell me-you must tell me'-here
she raised her head. and her large,
pensive eyes met mine o~bediently-
"who was your murderer"
He did not mean it, she answered.
HE loved me. 1t was here'-and she
raised one hand and motioned toward
the adjacent studio-"here he drew my
picture. He thought me false-but |
was true. 'Manon, occur perfide!' oh,
no no, no! 1t should be 'Manon, occur
fidele,'"
She paused and looked at me ap-
pealingly. Again she pointed to the
studio.
'Go and see." she sighed. Then
you will pray-and | will never come
again. Promise me you will pray for
met was here he killed me-and 1
died without a prayer
where Were you buried?" asked, in
a hushed voice.
in the waves" she murmured;
thrown in the wild. cold waves; and
no one knew-no one ever found poor
Manon; alone and sad for Il hundred
years, with no word said to God for
herr"
Her face was so full of DlaintiVe
pathos thai / could have Wept. Watch
ing her as she stood, | knelt at the
quaint old prie-dieu just within my
reach. and prayed as she desired.
Slowly, slowly, slowly "a rapturous light
came into her eyes: h smiled and
waved her hands toward rae in fare
well. She glided backward toward the
door-and her figure grew dim and in
distinct. For the last time h turned
her now radiant co%untenance upon me,
and said in thrilling accents:
Write, 'Manon. occur fdele.'"
l cannot remember how the rest OF
the night passed, but | know that with
the early morning, rousing myself from
the stupor of sleep into which | had
fallen, / hurried to the oor of the
closed studio. 1t was ajar! I pushed
it boldly open and entered. The room
was long and lofty. but destitute Of all
furniture save a battered looking,
worm-eaten easel that leaned up
against the damp, stained wall. | APP
preached this relic of the painters art,
ind examining it closely, perceived the
name "Manon'' cut roughly yet deeply
upon il. Looking curiouSly about |
saw what had nearly escaped my no
tice-a sort of hanging cupboard. en- the
left-hand side of the large central bay
window. | tried it's handle-it was I'M
locked, and opened easily. Within It
lay three things-a palette, ON which
the blurring marks of long-obliterated
pigments We're still family visible; a
dagger, ~unsheathed. with its blade al
most black with rust, and-the silver
filigree sticks of a fan, to which chung
some mouldly shreds of yellow lace. |
remembered the al "the Lady with
the Carnations had carried at the
Theatre Francois, and l pieced together
her broken story. She had been slain
by her artist lover-slain in a sudden
fit of jealousy ere the soft colors on
his picture of her We're yet dry-mur-