The Liberal democrat. [volume] (Liberal, Kan.) 1911-1924, 1915-07-30
CHAPTER xvl-contlnued.

1T was made in Vienna" interrupted
Frederick, not without strange thrill
Of satisfaction in his soul, "and before
you we're married, I'd say On the
back Of 1t is written: To my own
Bweetheart-in Hungarian, Yvonne
says. There! Look at her. She was
like that when you married her. God,
how adorable she must have been. To
my own sweetheart! Ho ho!"
A hoarse cry Of rage and pain bust
from Brood's lips. The world went red
before his eyes.
"'To my own sweetheart" he cried
out. He sprang forward and struck
the photograph from Frederics hand.
1t fell to the floor at his feet Before
the young man could recover from his
surprise, Brood's foot was upon the
bit of cardboard Don't raise your
hand to me! Don't you dare to strike
me! Now | shall tell you who that
sweetheart was!"
Half an hour later James Brood de.
scended the stairs alone. He went
straight to the library where he knew
that he could find Yvonne. Ranjab,
standing in the hail. peered into his
white, drawn face as he passed, and
started forward as II to speak to him.
But Brood did not see him. He did
not lift his gaze from the floor. The
Hindu went swiftly up the stairs, a
deep dread in his soul
The shades were down. Brood
stopped inside the door and looked
DULY about the library. He was on
the point of retiring when .'Yvonne
spoke to him out of the shadowy cor
ner beyond the fireplace.
CLOSE the door," she said huskily.
Then she emerged slowly, almost like
q specter, from the dark background
formed by the huge mahogany book.
cases that lined the walls, from floor
to ceiling, you we're long time
up there" she went on.
why is 1t so dark in here. Yvonne?"
he asked lifelessly,
so that 1t would not be possible for
me to see the shame in your eyes.
James"
He leaned heavily against the long
table She came up and stood across
the table from him, and he felt that
her eyes we're searching his very soul
81 have hurt him beyond all chance
for recovery" he said hoarsely.
"Oh, you coward" she cried, lean
ing over the table, her eyes blazing
Il can understand 1t In you You have
no soul Of your own. What have you
done to your son, James Brood?"
He drew back as If from the impact
of blow. Coward? If have crushed
his soul, 1t was done in time, Yvonne,
to deprive you Of the glory of doing it."
What did he say to you about me?"
You have had your fears for moth
ing. He did not put you in jeopardy"
he said scornfully.
II know He is not a coward" she
said calmly.
''ln your heart you are reviling me.
You Judge me as one guilty soul
Judges another. Suppose that | we're
to confess to you that left him up
there with all the hope, all the life
blasted out of his eyes-with wound
In his heart that will never stop bleed
ing-that left him because was
sorry for what l had done and could
not stand by and look upon the wreck
had created. Suppose"
81 am still thinking of you as a cow
ard. What is 1t to me that you are
sorry now? What have you done to
that wretched, unhappy boy?"
HE will tell you soon enough Then
you will despise me even more than
despise myself. God! He - he
looked at me with his mothers eyes
when kept on striking blows at his
very soul. Her eyes-eyes that we're
always pleading with mel But, curse
them-always scofing at mel For a
moment faltered. There was a wave
Of love-yes, love, not pity, for him
as | saw him go down before the
words hurled at him. 1t was as If
had hurt the only thing in all the
world that love. Then it passed. He
was not meant for me to love. He was
borE for ME "a 1Nspise He We 1orn
to tortueU me IA / have tortureu him"
"you poor fool!" she cried, her eyes
giittering.
Sometimes / have doubted my own
eAaSon." he GENT on ~ II he hsd not