The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1908-11-04

let tne llgnt OF heaven Through
Mrs. Montgomery Spranglin was
Just emerging into the sunlight of life
after the dark days of first widow
hood. She was attractive and had lost
none of her heavenborn joyous ma
ture, despite the submergence. Fur
thermore. she was pretty enough to
win admiration for herself alone. re-
CARELESS of what the Spranglin estate
might stand for.
To the credit of Mr.. Jonas Beverly
be it said, he knew nothing of the
estate, and loved Mrs Spranglin with
out question.
They were going out to musical
at the home of a friend. She had not
yet drawn on her gloves, and at turn
of the stairway she threw back her
len arm to gather her skirts, and
struck her hand forcibly on the STAIR
rail.
oh" she gasped, how hurt my
hand"
He caught the fingers. kissed them,
and they passed out, laughing. Seated
in the carriage. she put on her gloves
as she chatted, and the offending hand
was thought of no more.
Two hours later, as they stood be-
fore the low fire in her own drawing
room discussing the evenings enter
tainment, as men and women do, she
suddenly held out her hand. exclaim-
ing in dsmay: See! the stone from
my ring is gomez"
He took her gloves, examined the
fingers, helped her shake out the folds
of her gown. searched the carpet
about their feet, and then said:
Il know! You loosened the stone
when you struck your hand against
the railing, and it is in the hail."
The hall was inspected and minute
ly gone over. inch by inch, to no avail.
And yet it must have fallen just
here ne said, disconsolately. Seeing
Mrs. Spranglin on the verge of tears,
he seized his hat, saying: I'll fipd
the cab. Perhaps it's there"
On the morrow, Mr.. Beverly was
early at the house with the sad report
Of no success, but the reassuring con-
viction that the loss occurred in the
hall and that sooner or later the stone
would be restored.
1t seemed that no one had come
through the hall during their absence,
although there was mud on the carpet,
and the front door was left unlatched.
Other members of the family were
in the house, but all had been occu-
pied that particular evening in their
rooms and were sure no one had en-
tered.
Does it matter SO very much?"
asked Mr.. Beverly, toying with the
dismantled ring as he held her hand
a moment 81 know it was a hand
some stone
1T was my engagement ring she
said with lowered eyes and sadly.
He hesitated a moment and then
cried, impulsively: May l not re-
place it? Will you not value another
as you did this?'
She drew her hand hastily away
and answered with frightened eyes:
There is i'll luck in such a loss I
can never accept another until this
is found Oh, it isn't the value of
the diamond; of course the ring could
be reset, but there's something so hor-
rible about losing ones engagement
ring. No, no, it must be found or I
shall never be quite happy, and surely
l shall never allow it to be replaced"
Isn't it stranger" said he. This is
the second time l have registered a
vow to find missing diamond-a lost
wedding ring! Some years ago my
mother had the ring my father gave
her at the altar stolen. l have spent
every endeavor and many dollars trac-
ing that stone-unsuccessfu l shall
not rest until find yours
He was gone, and Mrs. Spranglin
was left to reflect On the circum-
stance, and dimly imagine another
ring on the third finger of her left
hand.
She did not see Mr. Beverly for sew
eral days. Then there came a little
note, typewriter and evidently die
tated-perhaps by telephone, because
it was unsigned except by the letters
-. B. in type.
Il do not dare to see you. | am
nursing a poor boy with fever May
be Malignant
Now a wonderful thing happened to
Mrs, Spranglin. The old misery of the
missing ring fell away as a senseless
garment. Here was an unconscious
antidOte-a human sorrow and a Wom-
anly sympathy. She forgot all else
save the poor suffering boy and the
brave man who was doing what per-
haps no one else would do. There
was work in the world for her. There
was need. Superstition plays no
part in the real things of life.
Her first efforts at locating Mr..
Beverly were frustrated, but by and
by she found him in tumbledown
shanty on the river front. The boy
was better-was out of danger-the
mother said, and Mr.. Beverly was
sleeping on a cot in the next room.
She must not come in. But Mrs.
Spranglin quietly took her place by
the wOman's side, doing what she
cDuld