The Madisonian. (Richmond, Ky.) 1913-1914, 1914-07-07

on the pillow with its spread-out sill
yer hair, and on the delicate hands
clasped loosely on the coverlet. Shir-
the placid face. 1t was smooth as a
child's and a smile touched it lightly
as if some pleasant sleep-thought had
just laid rosy fingers on the dreaming
lips. The light caught and sparkled
from something bright that lay be-
tween her mothers hands. 1t was the
enamel brooch that held her own baby
curl, and she saw suddenly that what
she had all her life thought was
wise and that The two halves clasped
a miniature. 1t came to her at once
that the picture must be Sassoon's,
and quick thrill of pity and yearn-
ing welled up through her own dejec-
ton. STOPPING, she looked at 1t close
1y. She started as she did so, for the
face on the little disk of ivory was
that of John Valiant
An instant she stared unbelievingly.
of which Valiant had told her rushed
to her, and she realized that it must
be the picture of his father. The fact
shocked and confounded her Why
should her mother carry in secret the
miniature of the man who had
killed
Shirley's breath stopped. She felt
her face tingling and a curious weak
ness came on her limbs. Why, indeed,
unless and the thought was like a
wild prayer In her mind-she had
been mistaken in her surmise?
Thoughts came thronging in panic
haste: the fourteenth Of May and the
cape observation-disclosures might point
no less to Valiant than to Sassoon.
But her mothers fainting at the sight
of the son-the eager interest she had
displayed in Shirley's accounts Of him,
from the episode of the rose and the
bulldog to the tournament ball
seemed now to stand out in a new
light, throbbing and roseate. Could
it be? Had she been stumbling along
a blind trail, misled by the cunning
dovetailing of circumstance? Her
heart was beating stifingly. If she
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: it was he, not Sassoon,
whom her mother loved
The lamplight seemed to grow and
spread to an unbearable radiance.
Shirley thought she cried out with a
sudden sweet wildness, but she had
not moved or uttered a sound The
| illumination was all about her. like
a 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 vitalizing and phys
ical presence, passed with her through
the hall to her room. AS she stood in
the elfish light Of her one candle, the
poignancy of her joy was as sharp as
her past pain. Later was to come the
wonder how that tragedy had bent
Beauty Valiant's life to exile and her
mothers to unfulfllment, and In time
she was to know these things. too.
But now the one great knowledge blot
ted out all else. She need starve her
fancy no longeri 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 it had
run discordantly across her mood /;
now 1t seemed a claimant watcher
tolling joy. Three! Fouri
r1FS' FOFudpS u0 Wds
sleepless, listening, too. Was he in
the old library, thinking of her?
Six! Seven! Eight!
= Ninei If she could only
send her message to him on the bells!
Ten! 1t swelled more loudly
now, more deliberate Elevenl
Another day was almost gone
Twelve! SOY cometh in the
morning the whisper across hel
thought. 1t was morning now.
Thirteen!
She caught sharp breath. Hel
ear had not deceived her-the vibra
ton still palpitated on the air like 6
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
quavertng through the wondering 81
lence, the voice of Mad Anthony, at
it had quavered to her ear on the
doorstep of the negro cabin, with the
well-sweep throwing it's long curved
shadow across the group Of laughing
faces:
"Ah sees yo' gwine ter him. Al
heahs de co'ot-house clock a-strikin
in de night-en yo' gwine.
DON wait, dom wait, III mistis, e.
de trouble-cloud gwine kyah hin
erway f'om yo' When de cloel
strike thuhteen-when de clock strike
thuhteen-'''
She dropped the lowered curtain
and drew back. A weird fancy hat
begun to press on her brain Had no
Mad Anthony foretold truly what hat
gone before? What if there were