Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1910-03-09
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rea11y-went to Cresson. You SEQ
warned you It would be An unpleasant
story"
went over and stood In front Of
her. All the accumulated jealousy Of
the last few weeks had been fred by
what she told me. II Sullivan had
come across the sands just then.
think would have strangled him with
my hands, out OF pure hate.
did you marry him." I demanded.
My voice sounded hoarse and strange
in my ears. That's, all want to
know. Did you marry him?"
mo"
! drew long breath.
"You-cared about him?"
She hesitated.
no." she said finally. II did not
care about him."
/ sat down on the edge of the boat
and mopped my hot face. was heart
lily ashamed of myself, and mingled
with my abasement was great re-
lief If she had not married him, and
had not cared for him, nothing else
was of any Importance.
ST was sorry, of course, the moment
the train had started, but had wired
was coming, and / could not go
back, and then when / got there, the
place was charming. There were no
neighbors, but we f1shed and rode and
motored, and-it was moonlight, like
this"
/ put my hand over both Of hers,
clasped in her lap. II know" l ac-
knowledged repentantly, "and-people
do queer things when it is moonlight.
The moon has got me tonight, Alison
If I am boor, remember that, won't
your
Her fingers .ay quiet under mine.
'And So" she went on with a little
sigh, "I-began to think perhaps 1
cared. But all the time I felt that
there was something not quite right.
Now and then Mrs. Curtis would say
or do something that gave me a
queer start, as If she had dropped a
mask for a moment. Aud there was
trouble with the servants; they were
almost insolent. I couldn't under
stand. I don't know when it dawned
on me that the old Baron Cavalcanti
had been right when he said they
were not my kind of people. But 1
wanted to get away, wanted It des-
perately."
"Of course, they were not your
kind. / cried. 1.-THE man was mar
ried! The girl Jennie, housemaid.
was spy In Mrs. Sullivan's employ.
If ,he had pretended to marry you I
| would have killed him! Not only that.
but the man he murdered, Harrington,
was his wife's father. And I'll see
him hang by the neck yet if it takes
every energy and every penny pos
sess."
l could have told her so much more
gently, have broken the shock for
her; I have never been proud of that
evening on the sand. I was alternate
" boor and a rufhan-like hurt
youngster who passes the blow that
has hurt him on to his playmate. that
both may bawl together. And now
Alison sat, white and cold, without
speech.
Married." she said finally, in a
small voice. ''Why, don't think it is
possible, is it? II was on my way
| to Baltimore to marry him myself,
when the wreck came"
"But you said you don't care for
him!" / protested, my heavy mascu-
line mind unable to jump the gaps in
her story. And then, without the
slightest warning, realized that she
| was crying She shook OF my hand
and fumbled for her handkerchief.
and failing to find it, she accepted the
one thrust into her wet fingers.
Then, little by little, she told me
from the handkerchief, sQrdid story
of motor trip in the mountains with
out Mrs. Curtis, of . lost road and a
broken car, and rainy night when
they-she and Sullivan, tramped eter-
nally and did not get home. And Of
Mrs. Curtis, when they got home at
lawn, suddenly grown conventional