The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-02-08

born again-he looked up into the eager, wistful face of Jane Cable. It was too much for her to ex- pect that he could see and understand at once. He would not know what had gone before nor why she was there His feeble glance took in her face with ufeless interest. Perhaps 1t was because he had seen her in that death like dream! Perhaps his weakness kept him from true realization. In any event, he did no more than to allow the flicker of a smile to come into his eyes before he closed them again. Breath lessly she waited for the lids to lift once. more. She uttered his name soft y. -tenderly, time and again. As if hearing some one calling from great distance he moved and again looked upward, the consciousness of pain in his gray eyes. This time he stared hard at her. His eyes grew brighter and then darkened with wonder. At last she saw the look of surprise and joy and relief that she had been hun gering for. He knew her. and he was beginning to understand
 If he heard her while she knelt and thanked God for this first great ray of hope he gave forth no sign. When she turned her eyes to his face again he was asleep. But she went forth into the day with a song in her heart
 She looked about for Teresa. The girl was gone. no one knew whither Bray alone could say that she had started toward the thicket. He point ed out the direction. but did not offer to accompany Jane when she hurried away to carry the good news to the Spanish girl who had been her stanch helper during the long vigil. Bray shook his puzzled head as he followed her with his gaze. 1t had come to him suddenly that the Spanish girl was not the solution to the puzzle after all
 Jane found the slim. boyish figure lying on the ground, deep in the wood. She had been crying, and made no at- tempt to subdue her emotions when the American girl came up to her; in- into the ears of the other. She told her of Bray's insult-as she termed his unfortunate speculaHon-and she told how 1t came about
 T am a good girl, Miss Cable" she cried. "I am of a noble family. You do not believe 1t of me? No! He had TO right to accuse me. I was a pris- oner. Senor Bansemer was my res cuer, I loved him for It. See. I cannot help it: I cannot hide it from you. But he Is yours. I have no claim. do not ask it. Oh.1 and here her voice rose to a wall of anguish, "can you not pro- cure something else for me to wear These rags are intolerable. I hate them! cannot go bac. there unless I have"-%
 We can give you few garments, dear" said Jane Come! You shall wear the nurses uniform. We are to start on the long march to the coast to- morrow. They say that all of the wounded can be moved by that tfme."
 It was three days, however. before the little company left the village and began it's slow, irksome march across the country toward the coast where the ship was to pick up the wounded men and convey them to Manila. Ma tive carriers, cheerful amigos since the disaster to Pillar, went forward with the stretchers, the hospital wagons and guard following. Travelling was neces- sarily slow. and the halts were Ire Quent There were. occasional shot~ from hidden rifiemen, but there were no casualties. Food had been scarce. The commissary was thinly supplied for the hard trip. Lieutenant Bray grew strangely morose and indifferent. He Was tAciturn. almost unfriendly, in