Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1914-04-03

But her mothers fainting q the sight
OF the son-the eager interest she had
displayed In Shiriey's accounts OF him,
from the episode Of the rose and the
bulldog to the tournament ball
seemed now to stand out In . new
light, throbbing and roseate. Could
It be? Had she been stumbling along
. blind trail, misled by tho cunning
dovetailing OF circumstance" Her
heart was beating stininsly. II she
should be mistaken now! She dashed
her hand across her eyes as though to
compel their clearness. and looked
again.
It was Beauty valiant's face that
lay in the locket. and that could mean
but one thing: 1t was he. not sassoon
whom her mother loved!
The lamplight seemed to grow and
spread to an unbearahle radiance
Shirley thought she cried out with q
sudden sweet wildness. but she had
not moved or uttered sound. The
illumination was all about her, like
q splendid cloud. The impossible had
happened. The miracle for which she
Historically prayed had been wrought!
When she blew out the light, the
shining still remained. That glowing
knowledge, like a vitalizing and phys
zeal presence, passed with her through
the hall to her room. AS she stood in
the elflsh light of her one candle, the
potgnancy of her JOY wns as sharp as
her past pain. Later Was to come the
wonder how that tragedy had bent
Beauty Vallant's life to exile and her
mothers to unfulfillment, and in time
sac was to know these things. too.
But now the one great knowledge blot
ted out all else. She need starve her
fancy no longer! The hours with her
lover might again sweep across her
memory undenied. She felt his arms,
his kisses. heard his whispers against
her cheek and smelled the perfume Of
Madonna lilies.
She drew the curtain and opened
the window noiselessly to the light.
Only few hours ago she had been
singing to her harp in what wretched-
ness! She laughed softly to herself
The quiet night was full Of his voice:
Il love you! want nothing but you'll"
How her pitiful error had tortured
and wrung them both! But tomorrow
he. too. would know that all was we'll.
A clear sound chimed across the
distance-the bell of the courthouse
clock, striking midnight. One! -. :.
Two! How often lately 1t had
run discordantly across her mood;
now it seemed a claimant watcher.
tolling Joy. Three! Four!
Five! Perhaps he was
sleepless, listening. too. Was he in
the old library, thinking of her!
Six! Seven! Eight!
-. Nine! -. II she could only
send her message to him on the bells!
Ten! It swelled more loudly
now, moro deliberate. Eleven! =. :.
Another day was almost gone.
Twelve! ;fr"''Joy cometh in the
morning"-ran III, whisper across her
thought. 1t waI morning now.
; Thirteen!
She caught . sharp breath. Her
ear had not deceived her-the vibra.
,tion still palpitatcd on the air like q
heart Of sound. 1t had struck thir.
teen! A little eery touch crept along
her nerves and cool dampness broke
on her skin. for she seemed to hear.
quavering through the wondering 81
ilence. the voice Of Mad Anthony, as
1T had quavered to her ear on the
doorstep Of the negro cabin, with the
well-sweep throwing its long curved
shadow across the group Of laughing
faces:
! "Ah sees yo' gwine ter hia. All
heahs de co'ot-house clock sA.rikin'
in de night-en yo' gwine. /.
Dom wait, dom wait, III m:stis, er
de trouble-cloud gwine kyah him
erway rom yo' :. -. When de clock
strike thuhteen--when de clock strike
thuhteen-"
She dropped the lowered curtain
and drew back. A weird fancy had
begun to press on her brain. Had not
Mad Anthony foretold truly what had
gone before? What II there were
some cryptic meaning in this. too? To
go to him, at midnight, by lonely
country roadside. girl? Incredible!
Yet her mind had opened to vague
growing fear that was swiftly mount.
ing to thriving anxiety. That innate
superstition, secretly cherished while
derided. which is the heritage Of the