Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1910-01-05

pose shall have TO turn out in the
smoldng-room-a huge apartment, in
which feel Ike a fly in Hyde Park.
or go into my own den. perhaps
NO. says Jeanne; you shall
smoke here, sir. or nowhere"
Can't, mum" he says, laughingiy;
what would Mrs Fleming and Tuliy
say? Jeanne, / am glad you have
come to be the mistress, for when
do anything wrong l shall stink on
and leave you to battle with the real
master and mistress"
.Why?" says Jeanne, opening her
eyes wide. Il believe they would
burn the place down, and throw
themselves on the ashes if you wished
it. No, you shall smoke here.
"Or here" he says, going to an open
window and stepping onto the ter
race.
Jeanne follows. and there Is another
surprise in the grand view, which lies
stretched out beyond the apparently
interminable gardens, and backed up
by the glorious Surrey hills.
oh, beautiful-beautifuli" she ex-
claims.
Yes" he says; they say it is the
finest view OF It's kind in England.
Where is my cigarette-case? Here,
TulIy," he calls out to the butler,
whose shadow is thrown fror one of
the windows. Send Willis WiI-
lis was Vane's valetl-"up for my
cigarette-case; there are some cigars.
too. in my coat; tell him to empty the
pocket and bring the contents"
Jeanne moves about the room,
discovering fresh delight at every
turn. and presently comes upon =
pianette standing in a recess.
"Oh, Vermont" she says, will you
come and play?"
He goes in at once and sits down,
drawing her close beside him, and
plays softly, then suddenly sings the
song he sang on that first evening at
the Gate House.
Willis, the valet, ~aits outside re-
spectfully, then knocks once, twice,
before he IS heard, for Jeanne is
kneeling with her face hidden upon
her lovers breast
She springs to her feet at the sound
of the knock and Vane opens the
door.
The cigarettes-ah!"
The swift, low "ah" is occasionea
by the sight of an unopened letter Iy-
ing among the cigar-case, matchbox
and what-nots on Willis saver.
He takes it, slips it in his pocket.
and goes out onto the terrace.
Play for me now, jeanne he says,
lighting a cigarette, and Jeanne plays.
Leaning against the terrace, he
looks out into the sweet summer
night softly sleeping under the
shadow of the hills, and thinks
well, a man who is grasping his over
brimming cup of happiness does not
think much.
Jeanne, innocent as child, happy
as child, and in years as one. sings
softly, almost to herself, and-the
letter still remains unopened.
Suddenly, as he feels for his match
box, his hand touches it, and he takes
it from his pocket-takes it and eyes
it suspiciously, half-fearfully, end
with the repugnance of a man locking
at beautiful but deadly reptile.
For moment he turns it over,
then is about to replace it in his
pocket, when, as with an effort, he
forces himself to open it.
Even then he might have escaped,
and have quaffed that cup of happi-
ness to his hearts content, for there
is not enough light falling from the
room on the terrace to read the let
ter by; but his evil genius-that evil
genius which so the superstitious
legend declares, haunts a Ferndale at
his happiest moments-impels him to
go to the window of the dining-room,
and there, with an impatient gesture
of distasteful reluctance, he unfolds
the letter. AS he does so it gives
out delicate perfume, which almost
decides him TO return the letter 10
bis pocket, for he knows the per
fume, and--hates it.
TO be continued