The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1926-06-25
THE
MASKED
HUSBAND
BY GLADE EVANS

tWJ lSzos WcSteTu kNoWspoboA SAS"'
I"HE young mother, walking
slowly beside the crisply clad
figure of pretty nurse, moved
down the flag walk to a chaise
Tongue where an elm's shadow spread
over the sloping lawn. From their
feet the lawn fell away In terraced
gardens, kaleidoscope Of color,
down to the brink of a chattering
mountain stream, beyond which rose
the misty impenetrability Of the north
woods.
They made charming group, the
pale girl with her black, bobbed hair
and haunting, great, black eyes, her
frail body wrapped in scarlet silk
kimono, beside the starchy whiteness
of the blue-eyed nurse.
The woods were all about them,
crossing In like silent guards upon the
gray, lowered house on the mountain
side. Their spice was In the air; their
encroaching shadow made the sun
shine of the open lawns more golden.
It was her first walk out Of doors.
She looked up at the nurse as the
latter stopped to arrange pillows
about her.
Il may have my baby for while
now, mayn't ], Miss Joyce? I've
scarcely had good look at him yet,
you know. I believe you're all afraid
I'll hurt him."
The nurse smiled, giving an affec-
tionate touch to the black hair.
Indeed, you shall have him, Mrs.
Benedict, just as soon as his nurse
gets him bathed and dressed. He
must be made smart for his presenta-
ton to his mother"
The young mother stretched herself
luxuriously, glancing about her as If
drinking In the beauty Of her little
world.
do you know" she said, at seems
sheer heaven to me here, now that l
have him. Oh, 1t was heaven before
but a baby-a son, an heir, makes
such difference. Tell me, nurse, do
you think he looks like his father?
Ellis father?" echoed the nurse.
"His fathers picture, on my
dresser"
"Why, yes, do" Miss Joyce has
tened to say, blushing little as
though she had made tactless blum
der. every often young infant bears
a striking resemblance to one parent
or the other, and think it's marked
in your little Vance
"Get the picture for me, won't
your" asked the other. 81 want to
compare it with his features when
they bring him."
Miss Joyce fastened upon this err
rand, returning after some minutes
with a large photograph, its cover
folded back to show the head of a
| man. AS Mrs. Benedict reached for
the picture she fell back among her
pillows. laughing.
"Why, you've brought the wrong
photograph" she cried gaily. Nurse
you're exactly like all the doctors and
nurses in the world; you'll tell a
patient anything you think he wants
to be told. You tell me my baby looks
exactly like has fathers picture, and
you don't even know which is the
picture of his father"
Her mobile face grew tender as she
gazed down at the likeness upon her
knee-a face stern, intriguing, not
handsome, but craven deep with char
acter.
"This is Ian McCray, my husbands
friend-and mine," she said softly.
Then, looking up with swift change
of expression, she stretched out her
hand to the other girl, drawing her
down to the armchair beside her.
Miss Joyce, did. you never wonder
why we live here, so far from the
world that even it's echoes scarcely
can reach us, and why my husband
wears a mask Of gray silk?"
Miss Joyce stammered, II had
heard, from the servants, and Doctor
Parker, that Mr.. Benedict was badly
hurt in an automobile accident. OF
course, / had never seen his face
and somehow 1 had gathered the
idea-it was just my own imagining
that this was his picture"
Mrs. Benedict, her eyes misting
confided: 'They were motoring to-
gether when 1t happened, Ian and
Vance, out on the Pacific coastx Ian
was killed, and Vance SO badly hurt
that for q long time his life was
| despaired of. / was in New York.
| did not see him until months after
ward, when he was well again. Then
he wrote me a desperate letter, tell
ing me that he must always wear a
mask to hide his marred face, and
that he meant to live In some out-of-
the-world place where those he had
known could never find him He asked
me If I cared enough to share his
| exile with him. And II cared so
much that think should have died
If he had not let me come"
Miss Joyce took up the photograph,
looking again at the pictured face.
''This man loved you, too?' she
asked.