Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1916-03-28
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: brilliancN under hcr termed gaze.
: You know about the Red Circle.
Won't YOU please tell me?" she entreat-
red. You must know. Il. because l can
| see YOU recognize il. Don't you see how
( terrible il is for me? Mary. won't YOU
tell me-"
The nurses arm frightened around the
slim young body. Unconsciously she
| lapsed into the soothing, automatic pat
ting that she had used so often to put
the baby June to sleep. g..
Il don't know, lamb. don't know
anything. precious she stammered.
June Grew her back within the circle
Of her aims and looked at her reproach-
fully.
Dear. I know YOU so WELL" she
said You can't lie TO me- You are
not the sort that is made to lie well.
Mary, il shows so plainly in your eyes
anyone could see you think you are
doing me kindness to keep this Sc
cret from me-whatever it might be
but you're not / know how dearly you
love me, and ] ask you; on account Of
that love, to tell me what you know
of this brand that is upon me. won
you?'
Trying desperately to evade the tor.
rent of questioning, the nurse reached
up, unclasped the clinging arms and
rose from the chair.
Her face took on the haggardness of
enc who is awakened from what seemed
to be a gruesome nightmare only TO
find that il is a grim truth. The vague,
haunting dread that had pursued her
for twenty years was no longer pur-
suer-huge and real it blocked her
path.
She turned from the kneeling figure
and went quickly through the door and
down the stairway, one hand pressed to
her throat.
June looked after her. stunned by
a swift, certain fear. Then, slowly she
rose from her knees, walked over to
her dressing table and sank into the lit
tie chair before the mirror.
For several seconds she stared blank
ly at reflection before her. not realiz-
ing that it was hers. The eyes were
dull and wide. the lips parted stupidity.
Obedient to habit. she raised hand to
smooth her disarranged hair-the mir
ror flashed the red circle, on its white
background.
At sight of 1t June jumped to her feet
and ran from the room. At the top
of the stairway she. stopped suddenly,
leaning against the balustrade. On the
lever floor, in the library, sat her moth
er reading.
Whatever the secret, it must be kept
from her Mary had made that clear.
But what could the secret be that con-
cerned June and not her mother? They
had never had any important secrets
from each other, they two. And yet
In a moment she had decided. Hum
ming softly, she ran down the steps
end into the library. Mrs. Travis looked
up from her paper and smiled tenderly
as the mischievous face bent over her.
still reading, mumsie?, Regular old
Questioning! oh, only the newspaper
who's dead dear? Honestly, I can't find
a thing of interest in the old dailies-
except, perhaps, news of the splendid
work they're doing in the prisons. Poll
tics and war news are so much Sans
krit to me. Where's Mary? Have you
seen her? Where did she go?'
MY darling girl'-Mrs. Travis raised
her hands I'm mock horror. will you ever
cultivate the habit of waiting to have
one question answered before you ask
five others? Mary went through that
door, there. into the garden not ten
minutes ago. Maybe she wants to run
away from YOU and hide. 7 don't blame
her, if you lombard her with questions
tile way
Pm going to catch her"
She blew her mother a kiss from the
tips of her fingers and ran out through
the long WINDOW. On the Nefdnud Sne
scanned the grounds in search of the
nurses trim. black-garbed figure. Down
a side path, in little clump of bushes
was a stone bench. Sitting on this
bench. swaying TO and fro, with tightly
clasped hands, was Mary. t-
June ran down the steps and reached
her side. GREATNESS and alarmed. As she
approached Mary looked up i'm piteous
supplication.
Don't ask me, precious, Don't ask
me, dear! ! don't know. I couldn't tell
YOU, blessed" she moaned, and raised
her hands to ward off June's embrace.
The girl sat down and put loving
arm across her shoulders. o.
People who bring up children and
love them, she began slowly, always
forget those children are grown. Once
baby. always a baby, to loving moth
ers and dear. foolish old nurses. But
I'm not a baby any more, Mary. Es-
pecially not since the horrible thing that
happened today. | am branded am
guilty of-guilty Of"
Her assumed gayety had fled Her