Montour American. (Danville, Pa.) 1866-1920, 1910-03-10

udTueT 10 keep from crying out.
All that week her mother discussed
her prospects and gave the advice her
own experiences warranted. Once Deua
cried In agony, But can't you see that
he may not even think of marrying
me?' and fell thereafter into fearful
silence.
But the following Saturday evening
he came again, and again Mrs Naugh.
ton sat in the room and talked every
minute. Nick and Dena parted with
out having said half a dozen words tc
each other.
But this time Nick looked neither
puzzled nor amused. His eyes mar
rowed speculatively as he watched
Mrs. Naughton.
When at last he went away Dena
knew to a certainty that he would
never come again. But each Saturday
evening her mother made her take up
her role and play it through. She had
to dress and sit and wait
Tonight she would not-she would
not For once In her life she would
assert independence.
"Now run up and get ready" her
mother commanded as they rose from
the table. I'll do the dishes"
Dena turned and faced her desperate.
ly. I'm not going to change my
dress" she said breathlessly.
You amt? Do you want him to
see you in your common clothes?"
HE won't see me-"
What do you mean? What aili
you?" Mrs. Naughton was astonished
Dena turned wearlly away. Il mean
that he won't come again-ever," she
said and escaped upstairs to her room
Mrs. Naughton looked after her, her
restless eyes steady enough for once
and her restless tongue still.
Dena heard her moving about; The
dishes ratified violently. Presently sht
called from the foot of the stairs:
"Tm going out for spell"
Dena was lying on her bed cryin,
now unrestrainedly. She lifted he
head and managed to ask:
"WhereT'
cover to Mis- Henderson's"
Dena's head went down with
groan. She knew that her mothe
would drag her poor little secret fort
and dlssect 1t mercilessly before tn
hungry eyes Of the old gossip who wa
almost her only friend. The QUITE
door opened, closed, and then all wa
still. Dena cried until she could or
no longer.
The doorbell tangled, and she spran
of the bed, polished her cheeks hui
riedly with her damp handkerchief an
ran downstairs. Her hands tremble
as she opened the door, too daZed I
realize who was waiting to enter.
Good evening, Dena," said pleas
ant voice. MAY l come inr'
He put her aside gently, entered an
| closed the door himself Dena stoo
motionless with surprise and joy.
Aren't you glad to see me? III
| you think | was never coming again.
He took her hands and looked down &
her tenderiy. Then Dena's voice cam,
and she looked up at him.
"Yes, | did think so. And / didH
blame you, for | understood CT
Dickw
He took her into his arms. "But
found, dear. that nothing on cart
was a sufficiently big obstacle to kee
me from loving you and wanting 70
and seeing you again to ten you So.
come back in month for you. ca
! you. will you be ready to go with me-
"Oh. Dick" Dena cried. and her 81
weeks of trouble and doubt and despal
! melted from her like a garment c
snow in this new sunshine.
A Partisan Tragedy.
'I am here TO kill you for denouncin
Colneyw The speaker was a ma
named Koenit and the scene a smal
| fifth rate cafe In a mean street 4
| Paris.
koeuit was a member OF a gang o
! Apaches, the murderous Partisan hoe
ligans. Another member of the gang
Colney, had been denounced to the pc
| lice by woman named Sarah Baron
maer. A court of Colneys associate
had tried the woman In her absence
condemned h"- and by lot had chose
Camille Koen o carry out their ser
tence.
Make up your mind you have t
die" continued the man callously. &c
give you quarter Of an hour to settl
your affairs" With these words b
left the cafe.
Some twenty minutes later tn
wrstched woman summoned up coul
age to leave the place. She WAS hardl
In the street before Koenit spran
upon her with an open knife an
struck her to the heart.
Koenit was arrested, but owing t
the foolish leniency of French crimtna
law escaped with penal servitude 70
life
This story reads like cheap fiction
1t Is, however, an absolute fact. an'
any one acquainted with criminal lif
In Paris and other great cities know
well that organized crime never fail
to take terrible vengeance on thos
who betray their fellow criminals
Paris Letter.
A Dismal World.
"Why are you sad, my dear? You
ought to be supremely happy. Here
I've Just inherited a fortune, and ev'
erything looks rosy. l can't under
stand why at such time as this you
should look so dismal. What is itl
Have you heard bad news from