Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1912-08-02

RTPUBLICAN. MARSH ALLIOwN. IOWA, AUGUST 1e1:

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on they'd 60 again: never . WORD
about their former Journey. uncom-
municatve. rather quiet. These sb-
ssucss. together with tho undemonr
strative Temperatures. used to hurt
Fortune drsadfully. It gave her .
clear proof Of whore she stood. exactly
nowhere. The hurt had lessened with
the years. and now she didn't care
much. Like al not, they would drag
her out OF Eden for q month or two.
for what true reason she never could
quite fathom. unless 1t was that at
times her mother liked to have the
daughter near her a. . foil.
At rare intervals she saw steel-eyed,
grim.mouthed mon wandering up and
down before tho gates Of the villa
Fanny. but they never rang the bell.
nor spoke to her when she passed
them on the street. II she talked Of
these men. her mother and the major
would exchange amused glances, moth
Ing more.
II, rightly or wrongly. she hated her
mother. she despised her uncle. who
was ever bringing to the villa men Of
money, but Of coarse fiber, ostensibly
with the view of marrying her on.
But Fortune had her dreams, and she
was quite content to wait.
There was one man more persistent
than the others. Her mother called
him Horace, which the major mel
lowed into Hoddy. He was tall, blond,
good-looking, q devil-may-care, edu-
Gated, witty, amusing: and in evening
dress he appeared to be what 1t was
quite evident he had once been. a
gentleman. At first she thought 1t
strange that he should make her, in
stead of her mother, his confidante.
Az to what vocation he pursued, she
did not know, for he kept sedulous
guard over his tongue; but his past.
up to that fork in the road where man.
hood says good-by to youth. was hers.
And in this direction. clever and artful
az the mother was. she sought in vain
to wrest this past from her daughters
lips. To the mother. 1t was really nee
essary for her to know who this man
really was, had been, knowing thor
oughly a. she did what he was now.
Persistent he undeniably was, but
never coarse nor rude. Since that
time he had come back from the
casino at Monte Carlo. much the worse
for wine, she feared him; yet. In spite
of this fear, she had for him q vague
liking, q hay admiration. Whatever
his faults might be, she stood witness
TO his great physical strength and
courage. He was the only man, among
all those who appeared at the Villa
Fanny and Immediately vanished. who
returned again. And he, too, soon
grew to be part Of this unreal drama.
arriving mysteriously one day and de-
parting the next.
That drama was being enacted un-
der her eyes she no longer doubted;
but 1t was as though she had taken
her seat among the audience in the
middle Of the second act. She could
make neither head nor tail to 1t.
Whenever she accompanied her
mother upon these impromptu Jour
neys, her character. or rather her at
titude, underwent q change. She
swept aside her dreams: she accepted
the world as 1t was, saw things as
they were; laughed, but without merri-
ment: TESTED. but with the venomed
point. It was the reverse Of her real
character to give4hurt to- any living
thing, but during these forced march
es, as the major humorously termed
tAs3.. and such they; were in truth,
she could no more stand against CIV
ing the cruel stab than, when alone
In her garden, she could resist the
tender pleasure Of succoring . fallen
butterfly. She was especially happy
in finding weak spots In her mothers
armor, and she never denied herself
the thrust Mrs. Chedsoye enjoyed
these sharp encounters, for It must
be added that she gave as good as
she took, and more often than not her
thrusts bit deeper and did not always
heal.
Fortune never asked questions rela-
tive to the family finances. II she
harbored any doubts as to their origin.
to the source Of their comparative lux
ury, she never put these into speech.
She had never seen her father, but
she had often heard him referred to
as that brute or "that fool" or that
drunken imbecile." If q portrait of
him existed, Fortune had not yet seen
it. She visited his lonely grave once
q year, IN the Protestant cemetery,
and dreamily tried to conjure up what
manner of man he had been. One day
she piled her old Italian nurse with
questions.
Handsome? Yes. but 1t was all SO
long ago. cara mia, that can not
describe him to you"
did he drink" Behind this Ques-
ton there was no sense Of moral
obloquy as applying to the dead.
"sainted Mary! didn't all men drink
their very souls into purgatory those
unrelig1ous days?"
''Had he any relatives?"
81 never heard of any"
''Was he rich?"
mo; but when the signora, your
mother, married him she thought he
was"
It was not till later years that For
tune grasped the true significance OF
this statement. It illumined many
pages. She dropped all Investigations.
concluding wisely that her mother, II
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