Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-09-03
CHAPTER xxx.


what the Cape Jessamines Knew.
Z MMALINE was crouched in chair
Y in the hall, a rug thrown over her
knees, in open-mouthed slumber. She
started up at the touch of Shirley s
hand, yawning widely.
II clare to goodness" she NUT
tered, II was jes' fixin' t. go t sleepi"
The lamp on the table was low. and
she turned up the wick, then threw
up her arms like ramrods, in delight.
'Lor', honey" she said in a rap
turous whisper 81 reck'n they all say
yo' was tn purties' qeeen on earth,
when tn vict'ry man set that crown,
with tn dPmon's as big as scaley-
banks, on that little gol haidl But
yo' pale, honey-chile. Yo' dance yo'
self mos ter death, I reckn."
Tin so tired, Emmaline. Take
the crown. It's heavy"
The negro woman untangled the
gittering points from the meshing
hair with careful fingers. "Po' lii
chickydee-dee," she said lovingly.
.'Reckn' she flop all tn feddahs outer
her wings. Gimme that o. tin crown
i like ter lam it out TIL winder!
Come on, now; we go upstairs
soft, SOS not ter 'sturb Mis- Judith"
In the silvery-blue bedroom she
deftly unfastened the hooks of the
heavy satin gown and coaxed her
mistress to lie on the sofa while she
unpinned the masses of. waving hair
till they lay in a rich surge over the
cushion. Then she brought a brush
and crouched down beside her, be-
gan with long, gentle strokes to
smooth out the silken threads, talk
ing to her the while in soft, Groom
ing monotone.
I jes' know Mis- Judith wish she
we'll ernuf ter see her chile bein'
queens en- things 'mongst all TIL
othah quaPtyl When they want er
queen they jes' gotter come fo' her
little girl. Talk bout tn stars-she
way above them! Ranston he say
Mistah Valiant bout tn bestes'
dancer in tn World; say tn papers
up In New York thipk tn sun rise en-
set In his heels Spec ternight he
dance er little with TIL othahs les ter
be p'lite, till he git back to tn one
he put tn crown on. 5000 tired
she is! But Em'line gwine ter bresh
away all tn achiness-en she got yo'
paid all turned down fo' yo'-en yo'
pretty little night-dress all ready
en- yo' gwine ter sleep-en Sleep
Till yo' Ryan sleep no mo- nohowi'
Under these ministrations Shirley
lay langu1d and speechless, her ewes
closed. The fear that had stricken
her heart by turns seemed cold
hand pressing upon it's beating and
an algid vapor rising stealthily over
it. But her hands were hot and her
eyelids burned. Finally she. reused
herself.
THANK you, Emmaline," she said
IN a tired voice, goodnight, now;
I'm going to sleep and you must go
to bed, too.
But alone in the warm wan dark.
Shirley lay staring open-eyed VI the
ceiling. Slowly the terror was seiz-
ing upon her, the dread, noiseless and
intangible, folding her in the shadow
of its numbing wings. Was her moth
er the one over whom that old duel
had been fought? Was it she whose
love had been wrecked in that long
ago tragedy that all at once seemed
so horribly near and real? Was that
the explanation of her fainting? She
remembered the cape jessamines.
Was the date of, that duel-of the
death of Sassoon-the anniversary
her mother kept?
She sat up in bed trembling. Then
she rose and, opening the door with
caution, crept down the stair. sliding
her hot hand before her along tne
COOL polished banister. Only a SUBJ
dued glimmer came through the
curtained windows, stealing in with
the ever-present scent of the arbors.
1t was so still she thought she could
hear the very heart of the dark beat
ing. AS she passed through the
lower hall a hound on the porch
seeming her, stirred, thumped his
tail on the flooring and Whined
Cropping her way to the dining-room.
she lighted a candle and passed
through corridor into a low-ceil-
lnged chamber employed as O. general
receptacle-a glorified garnet. as
Mrs. cambridge dubbed it.
1t showed strange >assemblaget A
row of chests, stored with winter
clothing, gave forth a clean pungeant
smell of cedar, and at one side stoo]
an antique spinet and a worn set
OF horsehair furniture. Sofa and
chairs were piled with excrescences
IN the shap of old engravings In
carved ebony frames, ancient scrap
books and what-not, and on a table
stood a rounded glass case with a
nat base-the sort in which an older
generation had been wont to display
to awestruck admiration it's terrify-
ing connections of wax fruit,
Shirley had turned her miserable
eyes on a bookshelf along one wall.
The volumes it contained had been
her fathers, and among them stood
row of tones taller than their fell
lcws-the bound numbers of a coun-
ty newspaper, beginning before the
war, The back of each was stamped
with the year. She was decibherinr
these faded imprints. Thirty years
ago" she whispered; "yes, here it
is.'
She set down the candle and
dragged out one of the huge leather
backs. Staggering under the weight
she rested it's edge on the table and
began feverishly to turn the pages.
her eye on the date line. She stopped
presently with a quick breath-she
had reached May Is. The year was
that of the duel; the date was the
day following the jessamine anniver-
sary. Fearfully her eye overran the
columns.
Then suddenly she put her open
hand on the page as though to blot
out the words, every trace of color