The Caldwell watchman. (Columbia, La.) 1885-1946, 1915-06-25
CHAPTER XVl-Continued.

1T was made in Vienna" interrupted
Frederick, not without strange thrill
of satisfaction in his soul, and before
you were married, I'd say On the
back Of it is written: To my own
sweetheart'-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 no."
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, Broods 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 hall, peered into his
white, drawn face as he passed, and
started forward as if 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,
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 huskiiy.
Then she emerged slowly, almost like
specter, from the dark background
formed by the huge mahogany book
cases that lined the walls, from floor
to ceiling You were long time
up there" she went on.
why is it SO dark in here, Yvonne?"
he asked lifelessly.
$50 that it 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 were searching his very soul
II have hurt him beyond all chance
for recovery" he said hoarsely.
ooh, you coward" she cried, lean
ing over the table, her eyes blazing
II can understand it 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, it 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.
81 know. He is not a coward" she
said calmly.
"In your heart you are reviling me-
You Judge me as one guilty SOUL
Judges another. Suppose that | were
to confess to you that ! left him UP
there with all the hope, all the life
blasted out of his eyes-with a 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
I had created. Suppose"
81 am still thinking of you as cow
ard. What is it 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 - ne
looked at me with his mothers eyes
when kept on striking blows at his
very soul. Her eyes-eyes that were
always pleading with me! But, curse
tbem-always scoffing at me! For a
moment faltered. There was wave
,of love-yes, love, not pity, for him
az 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 1t passed. He
was not meant for me to love. He was
horn for me to despise. He was born
IN torture ME as I have tortured him.
"You poor fool" she CRIED her eyes
glittering. ,,,,
sometimes l have doubted my own
reason" he went on as il M nao ho'