The midland journal., 1914-05-29
cHAPrER M--contlnued.


CHAPTER V-contlnued.
Nora, as she stood in the full morn
ing sunlight, was like to gladden. the
eyes of all mankind. She was beauti
ful, and all adjectiyes applicable would
but serve to confuse rather than to
embellish her physical excellence. She
was as beautiful as q garden rose Is,
needing no defense, no ramparts Of
cloying phrases. The day of poets is
gone, otherwise she would have been
sung in cantos. She was tall, shapely,
deep-bosomed. fine-skinned Critics,
In praising her charms, fdelved into
mythology and folklore for compari-
sons, until there wasn't a goddess left
on Olympus or on Northland's ICY
capes; and when these images became
a little shop-worn, referred to certain
masterpieces of the old fellows who
had left nothing more to be said in
oils. Nora enjoyed it all.
She had not been happy in the selec-
tion of her stage name; but she had
chosen Eleanora da Toscana because
she believed there was good luck in
It. Once, long before the world knew
of her, she had returned home from
Italy unexpectedly. Molly, here's
Nora, from Tuscany" her delighted
father had cried; who at that time
had a nebulous idea that Tuscany was
somewhere in ireland because It had a
Celtic ring to 1t. Being filed with love
of Italy, its tongue, its history, its
physical beauty, she naively trans
lated Mora from Tuscany into Ital-
ian. and declared that when she went
upon the stage she would be known
by that name. There had been some
smiling over the pseudonym; but
Nora was Irish enough to cling to it.
BY and by the great music-loving pub
lie ceased to concern itself about her
name; 1t was her fresh beauty and
her wonderful voice they craved to see
and hear. Kings and queens, en-
perors and expresses, princes and
princesses what is called royalty and
nobility in the newspapers freely gave
her homage. Quite a rise in the world
for little girl who had once lived in
shabby apartment in New York and
run barefooted on the wet asphalts.
summer nightsl =
But Nora was not recalling the
happy scenes of her childhood; in
deed. no: she was still threatening
Paris. Once there, she would not lack
for reprisals. To have played on her
pity! To have made a lure OF her
tender concern for the 'unfortunate!
Never would she forgive such base
ness. And only little while ago she
had been as happy as the nightingale
to which they compared her. Never
had she wronged anyone; she had been
kindness and thoughtfulness to all
with whom she had come in contact.
But from now on! -. Her I'm
gers tightened round the bars. She
might have posed as Dido when she
learned that the noble Aeneas. was
dead. War, war; woe to the moths who
nuttered about her head hereafter!
All, but had she been happy? Her
hands slid down the bars. Her ex-
preston changed@ The mouth dropped.
the eagle-light in her eyes dimmed.
From out the bright morning. some
where, had come weariness, and with
this came weakness. and finally. tears.
She heard the key turn in the lock.
They had never come SO early before.
She was astonished to see that her
jailer did not close the door as usual.
He put down the breakfast tray on the
table There was tea and toast and
fruit
"MademoiseIle. there has been a ter
rible mistake" said the man humbly.
"Ah! So you have found that out?''
she cried.
yes. You are not the person for
whom this room was intended" Which
was half a truth and perfectly true,
paradoxical as it may seem. Eat your
breakfast In peace. You are free.
mademolselle-"
Free? You will not hinder me II
walk through that door?"
mo, mademoiselle On the CON.
trary, shall be very glad, and so will
my brother. who guards you at night
l repeat, there has been q frightful mis-
take. Monsieur Champeaux
Monsieur Champeaux?" Nora was
bewildered. She had never heard this
name before.