The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 11, 1900, Page 19

»e. THE SUNDAY A‘CALL o 1 ew I . o ™ AND ©7 to break sl winter and ary a pretty young girl ng some small & ross the dull February head indiffer- r she sacrileglous for » E r contentment, I do not even know what the word im- Y the nature in- k you, she is n e % needful has ch must come re accentuated ducing erself of this rather arded the sub- pitymng look. Helen, I am or good for od’—of contem- 1t one thing needful to is in accordance t of anatomy, glad ck: master only of d actions: alth- 1 design.” haughty mbers v g€ in a tone: of the ren interest- nced by them. me aculous power, one love, 1 would have t any cost.” Thereupon at one another, rmined look, the oth- questioning one, as not mean you when he enter- indifference or certainly, Helen, and / 10 show men that en furpass them in g, a ! other ‘professions.’ > ind our interesting d the ball.” $ELBT B 8§ ey R po shed ballroom floor lay er a myriad of electric d Ly its dancers, who were NS SONVENTIONAL HERWISE. R R whether the boy were really {ll, he had shaken his head in the negative. When the rumor came that Napoleon, the tefror of Europe, was preparing to In- vade Germany, Johann was among the first to hear of it. He puffed a lttls harder at his pipe, and perhaps his biue eyes blinked a trifle more when he thought that the old mill where he had ored for so many years would soon be iIn ashes. Perhaps a tear giistened in his he dweit eve as upon 1t; by nt of himself or the loss which he would suffer. He was think- e future of the poor people of the en the old building was go vently that aise; bu it was not revort mis it news o subseq and soon of to pass along the road in scouting parties French began t of the door. days after it had been nolscd t e valley that the Little r he Rbhine the old between it when sming in Mein e me In a safe plac v in the Pru know I 1 fall it the dest I took the s Bake, Napoleon’s hand wr irro uffed so rapidly that his head eloped in a cloud of smoke from 1y exclaimed. would wheet revealing a “Quick!” he shoute: There is a will barely it lary or. there right. It lean over Yo ) not wigh to be the paper: water turned on er began to re med his t. taking did so. Hardiy had hea lashed a "Sdeath!” gasped the latter. I it! We saw him enter, Con- « in er came in heré? Dic Oui!” you mean?" Nein—Ja!” was the laconie reply Without addressing themselves further to-the seemingly stupld old German, the Frenchmen began their search. Every ro closet, passage, nook und crevice was thoroughly ransacked: as was also empty barrel, fuil barrel and pile t gr When an hour had been spent he fruitless effort. with a crestfallen ey returned to the room in wnich e er had been mitting. They found ng corn Into the hopper. For ther detachment had ridaen fme, the officer of which was nverse with the old man in his own tongue. “Mein Herr,” the Frenchman asked s bulld- the we're looking for * was the answer. “1 have said that e ofomfosie e ol R ling about the halis or sitting in cozy and corners. Neille Payton =at in one of these valnly endeavoring to Inter- est herself in a very conventional de- sign, at the same time letting her gaze wander restlessly over the ballroom floor, when suddenly it was arrested by a “de- sign” in bold vefief upon the glistening expanse; so different from any she had ever seen In a bailroom she unconscious- Iy straightened herself from her listless attitude and regarded him with studied interest as he stood there, evidently un- acaustomed to such a scene, taking men- tal note of evervthing. The finely shaped head was covered with a profusion of rich brown hair, parted very decidedly upon the left side; and the swarthy complex- fon seemed only a very few shades lighter than the neat brown business suit he wore. With his large hat in his hand he was just ready for flight at the first ap- pearance of the dancers. He awakened himseif with a start from his deep medi- tation wpon hearing his name callee and finding himseclf ;presented to Miss Payton us “Mr. Randell, a gentleman from In- dlana, though not tbe one of book fame. Just then the orchestra struck up a dreamy waltz and Nellie’s low exclama- tion of EBureka! Eureka!” was not over- heard. “Yek, Miss Payton, I leave to-morrow for my home in Indlana. The purport of thiz call is to allow you an opportunity for any little word unsald or deed left undonc in the love-making line, which line you handle so adroitly. At each cruel word the girl's head sank lower in deep humillation and shame as her many views and little acts loomed up before her in awful shapes. She saw it all so plainly now since the scales had been so cruelly removed from her eyes. Why had she allowed the New Woman's Clulb’ to distort her views untll for months she had not known herself? But this man knew her; yes, knew her and that to despise her. Ah! that was. the bitter shame of it alll Why had she so rashly vowed that night of the ball to teach herself to love this man and be loved by him in return? But th were uestions beyond answers, and her head fairly ached and swam with the calamity her misdeeds had wrought, Then a strange. yes, a very strange thing happened, “The gentleman from In- diana” Kkneeled down, and, drawing the olden head against his own dark checks, said, while a tender light stole Into his eyes: ) dy method has been a cruel one, but my darling has profited by it, so forgive me,” and the rest of the earnest entreaty was caught nnelz by Nellle herself, who laughingly cried: iy - ! ou are only a very conventlion: design after all” “I asked In what part is he?" “Ach! I said in the mill.”" And Johann poured another measure of corn into the receiver, “But I tell you they have made a search shouted the irate officer. ‘Now, see here,” he continued, “this man has important papers, and we'll get him If we have to burn the whole thing down.” “S8chr gut! Do it! Then I'l come out: he'll come out—and the papers—wlil burn.” “Bah!" another Herr. Men s and thus starve the dog out. k was the of a reply. *“We have tion decided. M hall we place in every room, Do you on urs, Ja!” was the retort. head. He can hold « r days, and by the time he ts exhausted th t of the dispatches will have been »ccompl'shed,” “Then what the devjl do you intend to The officer was at h's wits' end, Ach, that's Detter You said lons w. here.” he con- in a conc tone. “what vou want are the pupers (puff): what he wants is his life (puff). Now, 1I'll settle the thing in 2 nutshell. You ride a half-mile up the and there stay haif-hour (puft) > him crough time to escape. (pufl) gives he to me tha papers vou return vou (puff) I “Le ¢ laimed the Frenchman *“Think y J vou believe? How know I that you word will keep?” eply. With a spread of m out there what my word is!' Then the of- ned. fretted think of no other exj reluctantly consented to the plan. ey strongly, ins's'ed, how- S e Wis not to purn iemi. but iver ey singie plece into their ed without a murmur, AWy eared than E wheel and helped t t to arire fram his The latter was covered time 1d be spared cramped posit th meal. but cc to brush e me the paper Johann “then g0 do through x door, saddle my ho e and ride down the road leag- hari,as if the devil were after ) = Herr,” expostulated ¢ not intend to hand s—th se preclous papers— said v have them,” (Copyrighted, 190, by Wm. R. Miller.) 53 /@ Y dear, on the table here T leave 7\\/(/;\ such articles of value as I have [/ J\\y wvout me. Besides these there is a little balance in bank and our house here. which will come to you as my ! 1 cannot le 1 well cared he poor me at my com- I have to give and, of duty that has for ng upon my heart, he bond which has ¥ since you the only thing of worth heir. for a long while lain 1 go to free yo becom irk ceased to care fo; I had to give—the love which has been yours from the beginning “My child. marriage is a rosary fash- foned from precious gems. It seems, alas! you have found your jewels paste. Mar garet, I do not reproach vou and I bex me y 1self for what you ? use yourself of re- my realization that our 1+ mistake. It was not your nor mine. It simply was In this the hour of death for me now that I know I not possess your love I take more count of you mot to bl poor chi du joy than of our past unhappiness. You are still very voung. 1 shall hope and pray in that unknown werld to which I am going that the passage of at most a few years will bring you the peace and contentment which were vours before I de you my wife. Jo not grieve for my sake, child; It is best for me as weli as for you that I shouid die now rather than'— The stillness of the 1-ttle den where ha was writing his farewell message was broken by the opening of the door and the almost noiseless tread of lightly slip- pered feet and his wife entered the foom. Clad In her soft dressing gown and with unbound pair clustering in brown curls about her neck she seemed almost the child he had called her in what was to be his last letter to her. A Startled by her coming he yet Instinct- ively crumpled the sheet of paper in his hand to hide it from her view for he had not meant her to, knew until it was too late to prevent his sacrifice. But her eyes had quickly seen the constraint of his manner and she advanced quickly to tho writing table where lLe sat-and clasped nis wrist. “To whom were asked “I—1"— He hesitated. .t me see the letter,” she demanded. Before he had time to divine her inten- tion =he had snatched the paper from his Jenched hand and darted aside to read it. en in his dull despair he watched her eyes, fascinated by the facility of their expression, and saw the jealousy they had displayed fade away and become replrced with intermingled surprise and terror that could not have been revealed half so painfully to him if her volce had broken into shrieks. Silently she read the words he had written and then stood gaszing upén him for a space of time that seemed ages as he watched her eyes, still those wonderful eyes of hers that seemed to speak and yet had now become unfathom- able. A fancy came upon him that he was dreaming, as some kind of consclousness stole over him that behind her Jong lashes there was gdthering the evidence of a new emotion—an indefinable something that awakened a thought, a wish he dared not entertain, and thrilled him with the re- membrance of their wedding day, when life had seemed to him to be full of beauty and he had no forebodings of the weary days that were to bring coldness and widening estrangement, relieved by only sufficiently frequent lapses into ten- derness to make it impossible for him to forget and to make life seem all the harder by contrast. He was recalled to the present by the sight of great tears rolling down her cheeks. The impulse was strong to hold out his arms and bid her come to him for comfort; but he rem¢mbercd other days you writing?"' she our future - the old man, sternly. “I have it promised, and always Keepsl my word. But, thw, again, shall they not have them.” And with this paradoxical reply the courler was forced to be content. Promptness is a virtue of the French. In precisely thirty minutes from the time that they had departed they reappeared. Dismounting, the officer entered the room where Johann sat smoking and demanded what had been promised of him. Without removing his pipe from his mouth the old man pointed to a sack setting on the floor. The Frenchman ' seized it, untled the string and emptied thé contents out upon the floor. % “Why, this nothing but meal is!” he cried, in tones indicative of both vexation and astonishmert. “Ach! forgot I to tell you. They're all there—every piece of them. Eut they'vee been through. the mill with the corn.” And with a grim smile the old miller of the Eber-thal replaced the stem between his teeth. Trousseau of a Future Queen Duc beth daughter of Duke Theodor of Bavaria, who has just been married amid much magnificence to Prince Albert Belgium. has been on view in Munich., where the ladies have been going into ecstacles aver the heauty of the underlinen and lace Most of the garments are of the finest trimmed with i lace or e hand embreidery, repre- lnen batiste butter yme ar of French linen, having Insertion and real lace, while finely hemstitched or trimme:d roldery. Those intended ar are without sleeves, having » tle on the shoulder. °n, there are six sets in 3 @ green, e and pink, mostly Brus- The dressing The fine batiste muslin embroidery and eloudy made with half-open the fine Ble'feld wiss embroldery. white matinee of made Figaro fashion with e. having bell-shaped sleeves. Ybons and while are those 1 with v s Among t orn jackets two are Righiy original. . These are. Marie An- toinette fichis with slegves,"to which, by tying the ends in three different ways, as many varied - given. A lovey morning c ite stlk has gerpentine flo with point de L. lace and insertions, the latter underlald with vellow silk: a broad Watteau pleat isse forming the back of the skirt. Aunother in light green silk is closely pleated ahd a third salmon-colored one is trimmed with yéllow lace in a very popular lover's knot pattern. The whole of the underlinen is more or less amplre style, but especially the morn- ing toiiettes of musiin. The boot and shoe, comb and brush and wash bags are all ailke in blue and white, the Bavarian colors The most valuable item in the trousseau is the bridal dress, of white stlk with myrtle branches embroidered by hand and Valenciennes lace. when he had so Invited her and she had turned listlessly away, and he waited for her to speak. “You meant,” she said at last, In tenss, broken tones that were strange to him, “to go away—and kill yourself—to release me from the marriage which you think is making me miserable “I love you, Margaret,” he sald, simply. “Even enough to glve up your life to save me from unhappiness?"” “I could do no less for you, dear.” “If I should tell you that I want sothing in the world so much as to keep you with me always—that your wife loves you at last—would you belleve me?" “How can I—how dare I belleve that you are not mistaken after these last two years?"”’ For the first time she moved toward him. He had remained In his armchair at the table, and she knelt beside him and kissed his hand, which she left wet with her fast falling tears. He threw his arms about her and pressea-his 1ips to her fore- head as she nestled eagerly to him, but even then there flashed across his mind the recollection of her early affection for him and its evanescence, which had robbed him‘of hope and happiness after their first few months of marriage, and he shuddered and withdrew his embrace, fearing to be tempted Into folly and for- getfulness of his settled purpose. #It is useless, Margaret,” e sald. “To- (Copyrighted, 1900, by Wm. R. Miller.) URLEIGH was loafing in Phila- delphta, en route to Paris. He had finished dinner and was moodily sipping his cordlal and smoking a Turkish cigarette. He felt that he had made a complete ass of himseif. He celled the waiter. “There is a train for New York shortly ‘At 8:30, sir.” “Here, fix up my bill at the desk and have some one put my thin Burleigh was reflecting the least, idiotle conduct of noon. To be brief, he had fallen in love with a girl whom he had never seen before. She was pretty, of course, and when she stepped from her carriage and went past Burleigh into Wanamaker's she was ab- solutely unconscious of the sudden flutter in his heart.} Poor Burlelgh! Like the sleeping Ro- man soldier, who dreams through whole campaigns, even while the water 1s drop- ping from his dipper, he was building air castles of conquests even while she trip- red across the sidewalk before him The girl was accompanied b, h el- derly lady, possibly her mother, and the stricken Burieigh followed them into the store. it was difficult to keep sight of them in this great mass of skeltering shoppers. They made a few purchases and finally went to the art department There was a picture, by =ome French- man, on exhibition, and the girl and her mother took a seat and devoutly admired i. Burleigh got a place where he could cee the girl, and he devoutly admired her. s in a cah.” his, to say that after- His facuities toppled over each other In suppressed admiration. If he could only hecome acquainted with hes Te w " entirely uuknown in Philadelphia surely he could rake up some n s quaintance who would properl ent him. But while was langulshing in this one-sided love fever the pair left the room. Burlelgh took after them. He had an Impuise to accost them uader some pretext. Fortunately they were too ¥ he quiek for him and in a triee they were again _in_ their earriage, belng r driven ¥. and poor. bereft I stood watching the departure from his the sidewallk, on fecling like the man who arrives in time pnst of disadvantage to see the Puilman special full of other invited guests and champagne baskets, étc., pull away from the depot on a di- rectors’ junket Burleigh was resouyrceful and did not hesitate a second. A young chap standing by his bleyele was instantly pressed into service. See that carrlage?” sald Burleigh. “Yes, sir,”” said the boy. “Well, here's my card. I am stopping morrow, or the next day, perhaps, you would be weary of me again. It Is no tault of yours. I have seen that from the beginning. [ suppose It has all happened because we were not suited to each other It is tco late to rectify the miserable mis- take. You can only make it harder for me to do my duty; you cannot turn me trom it.” She did not rise, but remained kneeling beside her husband, silently rehearsing the scenes of their betrothal, remember- Ing how he had seemed to her a hero and an.ideal lover; how, in the early months of thelr marriage, even such little faults and imperfections as she had discovered in him had seemed “trifles light as air’ beside the constant evidence of his devo- tion and tenderness to her and had not swept away her love for him; how, with the passage of time, however, custom had staled the charm of wifehood and grad- ually thrown a vell of indifference over her nature, but bad not robbed her of her loyalty, though she had ceased to value her possession of him -until this night. when the fear of losing him had come for the first time. Bit he should fiot go without a strug- gle, she thought, and her sobs ceased and her evescas she raised her gaze to him were full of such resolve that he looked upon her with surprise. He had never un- til this moment fully realized that she was no longer a child, but a woman, strong and self-reliant, “What do you mean to do What method have you adopt?"” Both words and voice appeared to ac- cept his resolution as final and her ques- tion seemed brutally cold. It fllled him with a new sense of despair and grief more polgnant than ever before. “I have not decided,” he replied, mood- she asked. planned to fly. *““The river, I suppose, i{s easiest and quite sure.” “To-night?” . “Yes.” . “Will you promise to wait here five min- utes until T return?” He assented, listlessly, and calmly left the room. When she reappeared he saw, to his amazement, she had donned her hat and ahoes apd had slipped a long cloak over her' dressing gown. To his astonished ejaculation of inquiry she answered: “It means that, as your wife, I claim a wife's right to share all things with you. You ‘sought to fill my life with love and brightness and happiness, and I have been ungrateful and have driven you to de- spair—to Insanity, I think. But in this last hour I have learned a lesson I can never forget. Since you will not belleve in it and cannot trust in my repentance enough to think that there is happiness in store for you yet—come! We will go to- gether. You shall not leave me alone. “Margaret!" he cried, and dashed to her side and tore the covering from her head, and with his arms clasping her tightly to him pressed kisses upon her hair and eyes and lips—such kisses as she had not known for many weeks, because she had not welcomed them when they were of- fered. As her arms vainly tried to draw him closer to her heart, happy tears wet both their faces, and neither.-knew which wept the more for joy. It was not until, reunited, they had sat together for many hours in the big armchair before the fire as they had been accustomed to do when they had first come to thelr home after the honeymoon, and the honeymoon itself seemed never-ending, that she confessed to him that she.had had no intention of dying with him or of permitting him to die and had meant only to make him be- lleve in her love for him. “What if your ruse had failed?” he asked. “Then,” she said, “I had a stronger ar- gument to bring to bear. I 'should have bidden you live, if not for my sake, for* But the news she had to tell was whis pered, though he alone was there to hear, and she arose at the Bellevue. Follow that carriage and find out where those people live and I will give you a doliar.” The boy may have been suspicious, but the promised reward fetched him, and away he scurried after the carriage Burleigh slowly walked back to his ho- tel and passed a rather miserable after- noon waiting for the boy. By the time he had finished his dinner he had arrived at the co on that he was nothing short of a sentimental milksop. He would cut short all of this nonsense and go over to New York and take his steamer. The boy, of course, had failed in his mission, and—well, he was glad of it He fir d his cordial and elgaretts and od that Mr. Burleigh's the waiter annou: cab waiting. “All right,’ id Burleigh with a feel- ing of relief at the ide of leaving. “But, said the waiter, “‘there’s a boy in the lobby asking to see you, sir. " said Burleigh. ‘“Here, take him y and tell him it is all right—he may go The waiter left and the ng-minded Burleigh felt that he was really a mar- Eut the waiter soon returfed ant sald the boy was very anxious to s Mr. Burleigh—it was rather important. Poor Burleigh! The boy came In. He ad followed the carriage and the peopie ed at 'No. — Walnut street. Yes,” sald Burlelgn, “you have done well. You may “But," continued the boy, “as the ladies were leaving the carriage the old one dropped this,” handing Burleigh a small lockzet . Well,” sald Burleigh, “why dldn't you return it to them?" o ha The brig v hesitated and looked at Burleigh with a suspicious twinkle in his eye. “Weil,” he sald. I jthought that you to return it yourself took the locket, the boy's fee was doubled and the waiter was told to dismiss the cab. Well, we have got this far with the story. and our hero is busy with all kinds of reflections as to how “fate had intend- ed this girl for him” and arguments pro and con as to'the proper thing to do. Of course, he knew wha. was right—a man even primitive gentility would imme- diately cail a m wer and send the cket to its owner. Burlegh knew this e but all argument with himgelf was abruptly cut short and the course promptiy settled by his reverently open- ing the locket. Then debate was futile The locket contained a delightful littla ture of the girl the schemes ¢ as to the most feasi the girl. The locket wo {ertised for in the papers and he might take it back in persen and thus .ave some opportun! of advancing his cause; but they might simply thank him—and then it would end. Or he mizht have a cops e cou! ht- not get the gir tle consolatior rer Anyway, the next day at noon Burleigh presented himself at No. — Walnut street. He was a very swell looking chap and was togged out in the latest things in the way of clothes. The man at the door was properly impressed, even if Burleigh did show some little hesitation In stating his mission. In a short time the man was on his way upstairs with the card and Burleigh was nervously awaiting in the parlor the crit- ical moment. He did .10t walit/long. The old lady came :nto the room with Burleigh's, card in her hand and a dis- interested look on her face that was verr chilling to Burleigh and he beean to wish he had intrusted this affair to a mes- senger. ‘The lady began: “Mr.—Ah!—Burleigh?" And Burleigh instantly started in: “Yes, madam. They used to say of me that I was so stupid that I could never find any- thing, but yesgerday I upset all prece- dents by finding a pretty little locket, which, I judge by the advertisement in the paper this morning, must belong to you.” The lady thawed instantly. “Oh! how delightful,” she said. “How can we ever sufficiently thank you? My daughter will be so happy that we have recovered it. We had just received it from the artist a few days ago.” “It s, indeed, a very charming minia- ture,” Burleigh ventured to say as he handed it to her. “And I presume it is a portrait of your daughter?” “Yes, and she will want to thank you L R By Deatrice Ostom. (Copyright, 1%0, Wm. R. Miller.) Polly could hear the wind whistling outside and dying away until it sound- ed like a human moan. Such a flerce, wild night! The heavy clouds hung and cozy. ' The little library never had seemed half so bright and snug to Polly as it did this dreary night when she en- tered It after tucking baby away amid his There sat Jack—her Jack—reading his evening paper and looking so handsome. Was there ever such a husband, suc . a baby or such a home as hers? very dreadful storm?’ asked Polly in such a w.-erable little voice that Jack assured her it would not and told her to get her book and sit close to him. The book sight of the storm outside and the bright- ness within, even of Jack, who, seeing her deep interest had quieted all tears, quiet- ly left her to go down stairs and see that ly was just conscious of his leaving the room, that was all, for she had followed the brave hero of her book into the thick- est of the battle. nons deafeningly roar, the brave man is fighting, and Polly is fighting too, (for does she not know his every feeling—was she not a soldier's daughter?). ‘The heru but just at that moment Polly heard a step, a stealthy step, creeping up the stairs—the old back stairs which she nd Jack never used. A bt - lar! thought Poliy. *“The buarglar, whispered Polly with pale lips. *“He has come-at last.” Book and battle and brav- est of heroes were all forgotten. Another step, oh! how cautiously taken— still another. Polly knew she must be brave now if ever. Stepping to the door she called in a cautious voice, “Jack!” the dining-room below. Then it was not Jack, for as he answered the steps creaked once again. ‘With a bound Polly reached the bed- T was a dark, cold December night. threatenjngly low. Inside all was warm soft blankets and pilloWws. Jack, dear, do you think it will be a proved very interesting and soon she lost the lights were all out for the night. Pol- And now the charge is made. the can- has taken the flag. the guard falls back; Creak—creak, three steps more. ‘With every faculty strained she listened. “Well?" came Jack's sonorous tones from room door across the hall. Must-she lock baby in alone. or fly down first and tell jack a burglar was in the house? She knew that Jack had been ill and was not ust himself.- What must she do now to olg him catch this powerful black burg- lar? The burglar she had always felt ‘would come since they had gone to house- keeping. With feet to which terror lent wlnf: she sped down the stairway, and, pulling back the draperies, sald in an u earthly voice: “There’s a man upstairs ““Where, dear?” asked Jack. But Polly did not hear him, WIith trem- BOLD RURGLA e th: ed Burleigh way that he was simply t= . ught it was p - she sal¢ To the sounded like om day than when he to Paris he imme definitely stay in Philadelpt Well, they ! which he suce the info making qui tened to him and r though. there was her side. whic he failed to no They had talk twenty minutes, was time to lea his agility he nad up to an invitation felt the pangs of ¢ he was again filled with men, who in world s the room but h man from P at college. W and she se pos welcomed around Bru: night, invited planned excurs) to last a week. But three ni the saloon deck of t at sea, hi of that tions W ley Bruml R. bling hands she unf ran up the avenue. murmured Polly. one man come?” But one was ¢ was turning the corner even then. ning up to him, she said, almost br, less} “Oh, sir, there is a burglar Instd Without waiting to know more h appeared in the doorway, pulling o topeoat 'hen Polly looked up and down the ave- er_man, for Jack had not his nue for anat been strong for weeks; he may need tw men. And now theré was another man ap- proaching. - She appdled to him in a most ysterical manner to help ca At burglar. Cigar was hastily throw How gallant he was! ._e fairly le her rescue—or rather, Jack's within six feet of her, érossing ti was an officer. WitH high hopes making assurance doubly sure, across to him. “Oh, come—come quickly! There is a burglar in our house! And with that, another patrolman, see- ing his fellow offieer start gn a run toward the house, followed him “Five men altogether! They have him— they must have him!" murmured Polly. How Jack would tell in after days of the bravery of his little wife; how proud he would be of her. These thoughts flitted through her mind as with bated breath and wide-open eyes she stood in t hall below, clinging to the banisters. Strength was fast leaving her, but she 1 hear the men talking upstairs: and moving abou* She alofie was downstairs, and if the bu.glar was driven that way she must be ready to hold fast to him until heip came. With eyes fixed on the drawing-room tains she waited. Perhaps he had down and hidden in there amid the ries. Polly was bregthing so hard new he could hear heér. And how lou her heart was beating—thump! thum thump! He must hear that. He shoul not think she was afraid. Oh, no. she was not frightened: only nervous, onl ¥ erything was growing confused: the lights Were becoming dinmer and There! the curtains were moving In the darkened room beforedier—he—must—be— coming. “Polly!” Jack called. “Polly! and hack to earth and its dread burglar she tried to struggle. “Polly, dear, don’t call in any orne else.. Tt is ovly Jane.” But Polly was in a little heap at the foot of the stairs. unconscious. and there Jacs found her as he and the men came down. The joke dled away on his lips as he took the slender form up in his arms. Polly's burglar had been a very real one to her, and it was after the fever had abated and she was well on the road to recovery era she was told. days after, “ow Jane. the housemaid, whom her mistress thought in bed fully two hours before, had sat up on that never-to-be-forgotten night in the &(l(chen :plc;v‘.n!;;&?gx (‘;dlwrllle'n !e(:r to ames, her addle In far off old England, i