Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-01-16

CHAPTER VII (Continued.) .
Horace" calmly enough, rs it
wise to anger me?"
1T may not be wise, but l have
never seen you in a rage. You would
be magnificent" -
Cease this foolery." impatiently. Il
am in no mood for it tonight. AS an
associate in this equivocal business,
you do very we'll; you are necessary.
But do not presume too much upon
that. For all that may not have been
what a mother should be, / still have
some self-respect. So long as | have
any power over, Fortune shall never
marry a man so far down in the social
scale as yourself"
: Social scale? Gioconda, how you
hurt mel" mockingly. Il should really
like to know what your idea OF that In
vincible barrier is. Is it because my
face is in the rogues' gallery? Surely,
you would not be cruel!" :,
She is far above us all, my friend,
continuing unruffled. Sometimes
stand in absolute awe of her.
"A marvel. If my recollection is not
at fault, many man has entered the
Villa Fanny, with view to courtshlp,
men beside whom l am as Roland 10
the lowest Saracen. You never OBJ
jected to them
"They had money and position"
Magic talisman- And If had money
and position?'
My objections would be no less
strong
Your code puzzles me. You would
welcome as a sOn-in-laW man VINO
stole openly the widows mite, whlle l.
who harass none but the predatory
rich. must dwell in the outland? Rank
injustice!" II
You couldn't take care OF her
Eyes, l could. With but little effort
| could make these two hands as
honest as the day is long" .
Il have my doubts" smiling little.
Suppose, for the sake OF an argu
ment, suppose Fortune accepted me?
Mrs. Chedsoye's good humor re-
turned She knew her daughter toler-
ably well: the child had horror OF
men. Poor Horace! Do you build upon
that?"
Less, perhaps, than upon my own
bright invention My suit, then, to be
brief, is rejected?"
"Emphatically. l have spoken.
ooh, we'll; the feminine prerogatlVe
shall be mine, the last word. dooG
night: dormi bene!" He bowed
grandly and turned toward his own
room. r.,
He BOSS essed that kind of mockery
which was the despair OF those at
whom it was directed They never
knew whether his mood was one or
harmless fun or of deadly intent. And
rather than mistake the one quality
for the other, they generally pre-
tended to ignore. Mrs. Chedsoye, who
had a similar talent, was one OF the
few who felt along the wall as one
does in the dark, instinctively. To-
night she recognized that there was
no harmless fun but real desperate
ness behind the mask; and she had
held her temper with firm hand. This
was not the hour for clash. She shlv-
cred little; and for the first time in
the six or seven years she had known
him, she faced fear of him. His great
strength, his reckless courage, his
subtle way of mastering men by ap-
pearing to be mastered by them, held
her in the thrall Of a peculiar fasc1na-
ton which, in quiet periods she
looked upon as something deeper.
Marriage was not to her an ideal state,
nor was there any man. living or dead,
who had appealed to the physical side
of her. But he was in the one sex what
she was in the other; and while she
herself would never have married him,
she ragged inwardly at the possibility
of his wanting another woman.
To her the social fabric which holds
humanity together was merely con-
venience; the moral significance
touched neither her heart nor her
mind. In her the primordial craving for
ease, for material comforts, pretty
trinkets and gowns, was strongest
developed. 1t was as if this sense had
been handed down to her untouched
by contact with progression, from the
remote ages, that time between the
fall of Roman civilization and where
modern civilization began. In short. a
beautiful barbarian, whose intellect
alone had advanced.
Fortune was asleep. The mother
went over to the bed and gently shook
the slim, round arm which lay upon
the coverlet. The child's nature lay
revealed as she opened her eyes and
smiled 1t did not matter that the
smile instantly changed to frown-
ing inquiry The mother spoke truly
when she said that there were times
when she stood in awe of this, her
flesI and blood.
my child, I wish to ask you a cues
ton. and for your own good answer
truthfully. Do you love Horace?'
Fortune sat up and rubbed her eyes.
mo" Had her wits been less scat
tered she might have paltered.
The syllable had finality to it that
assured the mother more than a
thousand protestations would have
done.
Good night" she said. w.
Fortune lay down again and drew
the coverlet up to her chin. With her
eyes shut she waited. but In vain. Her
mother disrobed and sought her own
bed
Ryanne was intensely dissatisfied
with himself. For once his desperate
mood had carried him too far. He had
made too many confessions, had an