The Hattiesburg news. (Hattiesburg, Miss.) 1908-1917, 1914-05-22
"a CQUIT T E D

dancers laughed and piroutted. sway
ed, glided and writhed in all the diff
ferent steps of the new dances fashion
had made popular. and none were gay
er than John Blake. in spite Of his
garb. which was that of Roman
priest, and still more IN spite of the
disappointment that had been his bare
ly couple of hours before.
He had been so sure of winning her
pretty Rosa Bond-so sure that she
loved him in return, that he had never
contemplated the pain of a possible
refusal. Now smarting and sore, he
threw himself into the gay throng,
joked with the partner whose name he
did not know, but whose eyes twinkled
merrily on the other side of her mask,
gave back joke for joke, and in lit
tie time found himself in the maddest,
merriest set the whole room contain
ed. Not one watching the young man
as he clinked glasses hilariously with
half dozen choice spirits would guess
that he had been refused by the girl
he loved, and that only that evening
his thoughts had been running on sui
eide.
After one dance even more strenu-
GUS than usual. he mopped his brow
and stood back in the shelter of a
screen.
Heard the news" said a voice on
the other side.
"Meanin' what? said another voice
the tone of which he recognized.
"Cathcart is going to marry Rosa
Bond" said the first speaker
John Blake's hand went nervously
to his forehead again: Cathcart That
man. He cursed beneath his breath.
"Sure?" asked the christopher Amer
lean. "Bit sudden, eh?"
I'm not so sure about the sudden
ness" drawled the other. Seems to
me Cathcart has been working for this
all along. Guess she owes him money
Ell? Those women are such confound
ed fools where cards are concerned
and, of course paused significant
~.
you mean,' said the American,
she's payin' him so?"
"Oh, WELL" and the other laughed,
whilset the listener went white and
could have struch him, eve all know
the Bonds are as poor as church mice.
I though she cared"
Discreetly he lowered his voice. but
John Blake heard. and five minutes
later he was in the street. shaking
from head to foot, sick at the thought
of things, and with fierce, almost
overmastering desire to crush out the
life of Cathcart, whom he knew to be
an out-and-out rotten, an unprincipled
scoundrel, a man who had been black
balled at two West End clubs, a man
whom decent men were beginning to
shun, and for whom he had always felt
a secret and unaccountable aversion.
He walked along, needless of where
he was going, scarcely conscious OF
his whereabouts, and, with bowed head
and slightly tagging footsteps, turned
off into labyrinth of meaner streets,
some half-formed intention of playing
pedestrian till daylight already taking
possession of him. He had scarcely
turned the corner at rather narrow
thoroughfare before swift footsteps
were heard approaching. footsteps
that fear or terror seemed to have
lent wings.
For the love of Heaven, father"
cried a voice beside him, and bony
hand clutched at his soutane. come
quickly"
He, turned, shaken out of his own
despare by the frightful agony in the
old woman's voice. The light from
the street lamp beneath which they
stood fell full upon her-a fearsome
old bag. disheavelled, gap-toothed, her
grixzly gray locks escaping from the
confnes Of q net-like covering, her
clothes bundle of evil-smelling rags.
my son!" she moaned. "He is dy-
ing! Oh, father, for the love of
Heaven"
IT am not. he began, but paus-
cd before the pleading in her eyes.
Swiftly. as one reasons in crisis. he
told himself she was an Irishwoman
to whom priest meant all in all; her
son was i'll, maybe dying, and it was
( o'clock in the morning.
Il will come" he said. but cut short
her gratitude by reminding her that
thanks took time, and. painting after
her exertions. she led the way through
several more narrow streets, up still
more narrow court, along passage
10 little square. cobble paved. and
here, opening a door, she climbed the