The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 3, 1904, Page 5

jacent house. drawing the it from-the street. st three If at four L returned he would gv The fet might easily have ooting in_the tree and have th stunned, hand ain, again, ex like the soft he did so. rying feet. e L Ab v heard the 1 through the storm, gleam of a la head dowr Iissex, putting i= head sink I done it.” it of w = 1 more nor take g from 1 out, and—" pped, his ned, a look of ani- “stiffened into his yelled, star- Where ad s paled. He the crouched and & fig his eyes “It .ain't Jost it! I came off the Didn't I as if he had No more of r. you dog t it? tg I§ I'a lost X w closer outh tight, his fixed with a fercely compelling L k you stealing that paper. Give it u ) I'v t you here you'll never leave at and that's what [ d want it, come on under 1 fell 1 or I Jost it Look at . pulling blood- r h to the grov he held up his 2 ; sleeve back from the * said Essex, without moving.- “You were gone nearly an hour. Where. have you hidden it?” Nowhere. It took time. I had to m' up careful, 'cause she had a light burning. 2nd 1 thought she was awake. w't you bel me? What can 1 do wit You ca Shackleton well eiough alone. Give me that paper, tell me where you put it, or, by God, you!" I an that owned him gave of guflt. He backed ss of pallid terror, shout- Why can't yer believe “1 ain't lying. e Ain't It took time—it took time! Look at the mud; and 518 you 1 fell? feel in my pocket.” He seized on , and tore the insides outward. “I'm in’ you the whole truth. I aln't got “Where is it then? Youll tell me where you've hidden it. or— Issex made a sudden leap forward and caught the man by his neck-cloth and collar. In his blind alarm Harney was given fictitious strength, and he tore himself loose and rushed for the door. Fossex's hat, coat and stick lay on the table Without thought or premedita- thelr owner seized the cane—a sca—by the end, flew round the table, and as Harney turned the door handle, brovght .the knob of the Joaded cane down on the crown of his head. s 7t struck with a thud and sent the water equirting from the saturated cap. The thief, without ery or word, spun round, waving his hands in the air, and then fell heavily face downward. For a moment he quivered, and once or twice made a4 convulsive movement, then lay still, the water running from his clothes along the floor. With the cane still in his hand, Essex s came around the table and looked at him. For a space he stood staring, his hand resting on the edge of the table, his neck craned forward, his face set in a rlfid intensity of observation. The sudden silence that had succeeded to the loud tones of Harmey's voice was singularly deep and solemn. The room seemed held in & spell of stillness. almost awful in its suddenness and isolation. 2 “Get up,” he said in a low voice. “Har- y, get up.’ P ire was no response, and he leaned 1 forward and pushed at the motionless THE SAN tign cane. e with th X said under Jami hy breath, “he" ed. faix And ‘throwing the cane away. he ap- his proacied tie man and bent over him. vhere was no sound of breathing or bulse of life anout the sodden ngure with its hidden face. Drops formed on i forenead s he turied it over. rhen, as it confructed him. livid with aw and a gicam of wiite between inkled eyelia, thie drops ran down t shook Harney's ats before he feit the 1 tore tne spjrt open and i, His fece was white on the floor a& ke poured whis. ky down the taroul Lnat refused to swal- tearing off his coat, he inelt Leslde his victim and tried every means iu his power to bring back life intn the miserable body in wiich ne had only recogmzed a tdol of his own. But there was no response. The minutes ticked on. and there was no glimmer of © 1 the coid indiference of . no warmth round the gtilled . no flutter ef breath at the ‘slack, lips. 3 5:);11( was still dark, the rain in his ears, when he rose to his feet. A horror unlike anything he had ever magined was on him. All the things in 1 w0 had struggled for seemed sariv- a to nothing. “I'he whole worth ¢ > back to arest ambi- sacrificed love, money, happiness. all for which he had held life valuable and.thought himself blessed. What a few hours before were ends to struggle and seemed now of no moment- to had faded to a dim. un- the millions she stooa ed with- readily would he bring’_ back the he had held as a How all creatu have given it cath to the worm beneath his foot! seized the table cloth and threw it > fuce whose solemn, tragic calm 1 with a sick dread. Then with haste he flung some clothes nd made the fire burn high letters and papers he threw on itervals. The first carts of the mor d begun the course througl stirred when he crept ot iaggard He hag corner light K the city ng tides the first time in_his liow men—to the rail- nd there took the earliest for the Mexican border. »wn, the leaden light ring in through half-drawn cur- ded shape on the \ deep groan broke upon ™ stillne Another followed it, physical anguish beating on onsciousness. An early riser above heard them as he nward, stopped, listened. then rec g Nno repi opened door and peered fearfully i In the room, cut with a sword of faint light, he saw the covered shape, and, &s stood terrified, heard the groan re- and saw the drapery twitched. his fears bver the balustrade, ¥ in, flung the curtains wide tore off the table cloth, and in the rush of pallid light, saw Harney, leaden withered to a waxen pallor, eEm with the blood of the cut wrist wh he feebly moved, struggling back to ex- istence. CHAPTER HAVE YOU COME AT LAST? nadness -did_prepare. Omar Khayyam. returned to the for Mariposa Yesterday this day’s 10 o'clock Barron LAt Kearny . had been fruit- lers was again at the ere another and more of the woman's page but Jdna was at that neither she i seen Mariposa since ay before. In returning to the house he had hopes of finding her there. From the first his had been keen. Now. as he put in the lock. it clutched his heart force. The house was ed 1 then the sound re hall called the head of & Mrs. Garcia to the opened door of Kitchen. ‘I'he first glimpse of her ace told him Mariposa had not returned. “Have you got her?” cried the young step in 1 his voice sounding i thought she might Mrs. Garcia shook her head and with- drew it. He followed her into the kitch- en, where she and the senora were sit- ng by the stove. A large fire was burn- : room was warm and bright—the y neat kitchen of To the senora's quick phrase ry the younger woman answered with a sentence in Spanish.. For a mo- ment the silence of sick anxiety held the trio. “Did_you go to Mrs. Willers'?” said young Mrs. Garcia. trying to speak with some lightness of tone. “Yes; she’s not been there since yester- day. I've been everywhere 1 could think of where it was likely she would be. 1 couldn’t find a trace of her.” “Then she’s gone to Europe. or is go- ing to-morrow, as she told Pierpont. She took her money. We looked after you'd gone. and it wasn't there.” “It'll be too late to find out to-night if she's gone. The ticket offices are closed. 1 ean't think she’'s done that—without a word to any one. It's not like her.” The sehora here asked what they said. Barron. who spoke Spanish indifferently. signaled to the yOoung woman to answer for him. She did so, the senora iistening intently. At the end of her daughter-in- v'e speech she shook her head. ‘No, she has not gone,” she said slow- Iy in Spanish. “She could not take that journey. She was not able sick.’ ‘SBick, and out on such a night with all that money!” moaned her daughter-in- law. Barron got up with a smothered ejacu- latior e knew more than either of the women. The attempt at robbery the night before had failed. To-night the girl her- self had disappeered. What might it all mean? He was afraid to think “I'm going out again,” he said. “T’ll be in probably in four or five hours to see if. by any chence, she's come back. You have everything ready—fires and warm clothesrand things to eat in case I bring her with me. The rain’s worse than ever. Ching says she had no umbrella.” Without more conversation he left, the two women bestirring themselves to make ready the supper he had ordered. At three o'clock he returned again to find the senora sitting alone, by the ruddy stove, . Garcia, the younger, being asleep on the sofa in the boys’ room. The she was B old lady persuaded him to drink a cup of coffee she had kept warm, and, as she gave it him, looked with silent compas- #ion into his haggard face. When day broke he had not again ap- peared. By this time the household was in a ferment of open alarm. The boys were retained from school, as it was felt they might be needed for messages. Pier- pont uandertook to visit all Mariposa's pupils, in the dim hope of finding through them some clew to her move- ments, though it was well known she was on_intimate terms with . none of them. Soon after breakfast Mrs. Wiilers appeared, uneasy, and by the time the now weeping Mrs. Garcin had told her all. pale and deeply disturbed. She repaired o the ‘Trumpet office without luss of time, and there acquaint. ed her chief with the story of Miss Mo- reaw’s disappearance, not neglecting to mention the burglary of the night before, which even to the women. having no knowledge of its real import, seemed to indicate a sinfster connection with sub- sequent events. Winslow did not disap- point Mrs. Willers by pooh-poohing the matter. as she had half imagined he would; a young lady's disappearance for twelve hours not being a subject for such tragic consterpation. He seemed extremely worrted—in fact, showed an unxiety that struck the head of the wo- man's page as almost odd. le assured her that if Miss Moreau was not heard irom that day by mid-day he would se- cretly offer to the police department the largest reward ever given in San Fran- cisco for any trace or tidings of her. Meantime, Barron, having assured himself by visits to all the ticket offices that she had not left the city on any had finally taken his case to the police. Tt had been in their hands only @n hour or twd when young Shackleton's offer of what, in even those extravagant secmed an enormous reward, was runicated to the department. It put life into the somewhat dormant energies of the officers detailed on the ca. Mari- posa had net been missing twenty-four hours when the search for her was spreading over the face of the city, » had been so insignificant a in a thorough and secret network 0 estigation The day wore away with madding slowness to the women in the house, whose duty it was to sit and wait. To Barron, whose anxiety had been intensi- fied by the torture of his deeper knowl- edge of the girl's strange circumstances, existence seemed only bearable as it was directed to finding her. He did not dare now to pause or think. Without stop- ping to eat or rest he continued his now with the Several times in the course of the he reappeared at the Garcin house, drawn thither by the hope that she might have returned. The senora, with the cu- rious tranquillity of the very old which seems not to need the repairing pro- cesses of sleep or food, was always to be found sitting by the Kitchen stove, upon which some dish or drink simmered for him. He rarely stopped to take either. But returning in the early dusk. he was xrateful to find that she had a dry over- hanging before the fire for him. The rain still fell in torrents, and the long day spent at its mercy had soaked him. It was hetween ten and eleven o'clock at night that the old lady and her daugh- -law, sitting before the stove, as had done the evening before, again his step and key. This time there no_pretense at expectation on either His first glan him the heavy dejection of the turned toward him. They, on their part. saw him pale and drawn. as by a month's illnes hey had heard nothing. No investigation of which they were aware had brought in a grain of side. showed two face: comfort. He had heard worse than noth- ing. There had been talk at the police staiion that e the finding of George Harney, suffering from concus- sion of the br ure of Barry assailant. This information added the last straw to B.rron's agony of apprehension. It Essex, believed to be his seer if a plot had culminated in those t days, a plot dark and inex- plicable, in which the woman he ldved was in some mysterjous way involved. He was standing by the stove respond- ing to the somber queries of the women, when the sound of feet on the poreh steps suddenly them all. Young Mrs. Garcia screamed, while the old lady sat with head bent sidewise lis- tening. Before Barron could get to the door a soft ring at the bell had drawn another scream from the younger wo- man, who, nevertheless, followed him and stood peeping into the hall, clinging to the doorpost. The opened door sent a flood of light over three figures huddled in the glass porch—two men, a_détective and police- man. Barron already knew, and a third, a stranger to him, the whose face against shadowy background looked fresh r. Barron, we're lucky to strike way at the first shot,” said she “We think we've found the “Ah, you th Where? Have you got ound _her? her there?” re not certain yet if it's the 0; W right one. The man ie, entered the hall, the polic the stranger following him. Under the flare of the Lwo gas jets they looked big ungainly figures In their smoking rubber capes that ran rillets of water on the fioor. The third, reveale in the full light, was a boy of some four- teen or fifteen years. well dressed and with the air of a gentleman. “This gentleman came to the station a half-hour ago.” said the policeman. indi- cating - the stranger. “with story of finding & lady on his own grounds. and we thought from his description it was the one you're looking fc Barron directed on the youth a glance that_would have pried open the lips of the Sphinx. “What does she look like? Where is she?” “She’s in our garden,” s the boy. £he a under some trees. looks tall and has on black clothe: d hes dark red hair and a very white face. Mrs. Garcia gave a loud ¢ background. . from the It's Mariposa, sure,” she scrsamed. “Is she alive?” “Alive!” ethoed the youth, “Oh. yes; she's quite alive. but 1 don’t know whether she's exactly in her right mind. She's sort of queer, Barron had brushed past him into the streaming night. “Come on.” he shouted back. Lord, come quick!™ At the foot of the zigzag stairs he saw the two gleaming lights of a hack. With the other men clattering at heels, he dashed down the steps, and was in it, chafing and swearing, whil= they were fumbling for the latch of the gate. As the boy, after giving the coachman an address, scrambled in beside him, he said poremgtnrfly: “When id you find her? everything.” ‘About two hours ago. My dog found her. 1 live, I and my mother. on the slope of Russian Hill. It's quite a big place with a lot of trees. I went down to get Jack (that's my dog) at the vet's, “Good Tell me ~and ba FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. Wwhere he's been for a week, and I w wringing him home. When he got to the top of the steps he began sniffing round rking, and then he ran to a place whera ther a little sort of bunch of fir trees and barked and jumped round, and went in among the trees. [ followed him to see what was up. and all of a sudden 1 heard some one say irom under the trees: ‘Qu, it's only a dog.’ T was scared and ran into the house and got a lamp, and when | came out with my mother, and we went in among the trees, there was a woman in there, who was ly- ing on the ground. When she saw us she Sort of sat up, as if she’d been asleep, and said: ‘Is it Sunday yet? We saw her distinctly; she was staring right at us. She didn’'t look as if she was crazy, but we both thought she was. She was terribly white. e knew she couldn't be drunk, because she was like a lady—she spoke that way.” .And then—and then,” said Barron, vhat aid she do?” ‘She said again, ‘It isn’t Sunday yet? and mother said, ‘No, not yet' and we went away. | ran to the police office, but we left one of the Chinamen to watch sq she wouldn't get away, 'cause we dldn't know what was the matter with her. Welll be there in o minute now. It tsu'i The hack, which had been rattling round corners at top speed, now began to ascend. Barron could see the gaunt flank of Russian Hill looming above fhem. with here and there a house hang- lng to a ridge or balanegd on a slope. The lizhts of the town drdpped away on their right in a series of sparkling ter- races, you guess it's the lady you're ' said the policeman politely. st certain it s’ answered ‘Can’t you make this man go faster?” “The hill's pretty steep here,” sald the guardian of the clty's peace. “I don't feem to think he could do it.” o We're almost there,” said the boy; “it's just that house where the aloe is— there on the top of that high wall,” Barron looked in the direction and saw high above them, on the top of a wall like the rampart of a fortress, the faint outline of 2 house and the black masses of trees etched against the only slightly paler sk, “I don't sec any aloe,” he growled; “is that the house you mean?’ “That's it” said the boy. “I guess it's too dark for the aloe to-night.” With a scrambling and |, jolting the horses began whit appeared an even steeper climb than that of the block be- fore. The beasts seemed to dig their hoofs into the crevices between the cob- bles and to clamber perilously up. With an oath Barron kicked open the door and sprang out. “Come on. boy,” he shouted. “I can't stand this snail of a carriage any long- ." And he set out running up the hill. The boy, who-was light of foot and young, kept up with him, but the two heavier men, who had followed, were left behind, puffing and blowing in the dark- ness. - Suddenly the great wall, at the base of which they ran, was crosséd by a flight of stairs that made two obligue stripes across its face. “Up the stairs,” said the boy. And Barron, without reply, turned and bezaéx the ascent at the same breakneck y as_well let me go first,” gasped his conductor from behind him. “You don't know the way, and you might scare the Chinaman. He said he had a gun.” Barron stood aside for him to pass and then followed the nimble figure as it darted up the second flight. The boy was evidently nearing the top, when he sang b ; u “Ah. there, Lee! It's me comi bac There was an unmistakable Chinese guttural from somewhere, and then Bar- ron himself rose above the stair-top. A black mass of gnrden lay before him, with the bulk of a large house a short distance back. Many windows were Iit, and in one he saw a woman standing. Their light fell out over the garden, bar- ring it with long rectangular stripes of Tiance. " The wild bark of a dog rose from the house and on the unseen walk thg Chinaman's footsteps could be heard ergnching the pebbles. Is she there yet, Lee?” said the boy issing whisper. The Chinaman's affirmative grunt ros from the darkness of the massed trees, into which his footsteps ¢ontinued to re- treat “This way.” sald his conductor to Bar- B hang it all, it's so dark we “Never mind the light. Show me where she is. Mariposa!” he said suddenly, in a voice which, though low, had a quality so ihrilling it might have penetrated the ear of death. The garden, rain-swept and rustling, grew quiet. The sound of. the China- man's footsteps ceased, even the panting breath of the boy was sudderly suspend- ed. In this moment of pause, when nature seemed to guell her riot to listen, a wo- man's voice, sweet and soft, rose out of impenetrable darkness? “Who called me?" . The sound broke the agony that had congealed Barron's heart. With a shout he answered: “It's I, dearest. Where are you? Come to me.” The volce rose egein, faint, but with Joy in it. “Oh. have you come—have you come, at last!” He made a rush forward into the blackness before him. At the same mo- ment the two men rose, spent and breathless. from the stairs. The boy was behind Barron, and they behind the b » “Where are you? Where are you?" they heard him cry, as he crashed for- ward through shrub and flower beds. Then suddenly the policeman drew the small lantern he had carried from be- neath his cape and shot the slide. A of ciear. stendy light cut through ¢ wall in front of them. For a seeond they all stopped. the man send- ing the eylipder of radiance over the shrubs and trees in swift sweeps. In one ot these it crossed a white face, quivered and rested on it. Barron gave a wild ery and rushed forward. She was, as the boy described, crouched under a clump of =mall fir trées. the “lower limbs of which had been removed. The place was sheltered from observa- tion from the house and the intrusion of the elements. As the light fell on her she was kneeling, evidently having been drawn to that posture by Barron's voice. The light revealed her as hatless. with loosened hair. her face pinched, her eyes large and wild. As she saw ‘g:rrfln she shriek: and tried to move fdrward, but was unable to and held out her arms. He was at her side in a moment. his arme about her, straining her to him, hig lips. between frantic Kisses, saying words only for him and for her. The policeman. with a soft ejaculation, turned the lantern, and its cube of light fell into the heart of a bed of petunias; then the two men and the boy stood look- ing at it silently for a space. — N D s N> AR TR T~ % . Presently they heard Barron say: “Come, wé must go. | must take you home at once. 'furn the light this way, please.” T She e light came back upon her. was on her feet, holding to him. “Is it Bunday yet?' she said, looking at them with an affrighted air. “That's what she keeps asking all the time.” saild the boy in a whisper. “No,"” sald Barron, “it's Friday. What do you expect on Sunday?” “Only kriday,” she sald, hanging back. ;‘llet"l1_qught 1'd hide here till Sunday was Without answering., he put his arm about her and drew her forward. At the steps she hesitated again., and he lifted her and carried her down, the policeman rreceulng with the lantern. "The men helped him into the carriage, not saying much, while the boy stood with his no liberated dog at the top of the steps an shouted, “Godod night”' Barron hardly spoke to any of them. A vague thought crossed his mind that ha would go to see the boy some day and thank him. She lay with her head on his shoulder, and a§ the carriage passsd the first lamp of the route he leaned torward M@serlfi to scan her face. 1t was haggard. white and thin, as by a long illness. He could not speak for a mom:nt, could only hold her in his arms as if thus to wind her round with the symbol of his love. Presently she groaned, and he said: “Are you suffering?” “Yes,” she murmurad, ways now. I am sick. I don’t breathe well any more. It hurts in my chest all the time. “Why did you hide under those trees?” he asked. “I was too sick to go any farther. I wanted to hide somewhere, to get away from it all, and anyway, till Sunday was over. It was all to be published on Sun- day, you know. Everything was ruined. My voice was gone, too. 1 saw those steps in the dark and climbed up and crept under the trees. I was terribly tired, And it was vew quiet up there. I don’t remember much more.” As the light of another lamp flashed through the window he could not bear to look at her, but tighteged his arms nb%g her and bowed his face on her wet e “Oh God, dearest.” he “there can’t be any hell worse I've been in for the last two da She made no response, but lay passive- ly against him. When the carriage stopped at the Garcia gate, and he told her they were home, she made no at- tempt to move, and he saw she was un- consecious. He lifted her out and carried her up the steps. The door opened as he as< cended and revealed the Garcia family in the aperture. “Is she dead?’ screamed younz Mrs. Gareia, as she saw the limp figure in his arms. “No. but sick. You must get a doctor at once.” “'Oh, how awful she looks!"” cried the young woman, as she caught sight of the white face against his shoulder. “What are yeu going to do with her?” “Toke her upstairs now, and then get a doctor and get her cured, and when she's well, marry her.” EPILOGUE. THE PRIMA DONNA. “And thou Beside me singing in the wilderness.” Omar Khayyam. The plant of the Silver Star mine lay scatgered along the edge of a mountain river on the site of one of the camps of forty-nine. Where the pioneers had scratched the surface with their picks, their successors had torn wounds in the Sierra’s mighty flank. Where once the miners’ shouts had broken the quiet har- monics of stirred pine boughs, and sing- ing river, the throb of engines now beat on the air, thick with the dust, noisy with the strife of toiling men. It was a morning in the end of May. The mountain wall was dark against the rising sun; tall fir and glant pine stood along its crest in inky silhouette thrown out by a background of gold leaf. Here and there, far and aerial in the clear. cool dawn, a white peak of the high Sierra floated above the shadows, a rosy pinnacle. The air was chill and faintly touched with woodland odors. The expectant hush of Nature awaiting the miracle of sunrise, held this world of huge. primordial forms, grouped in co- lossal indifference round the swarm of men who delved in its rock-ribbed breast. In the stillness the camp's awakening movements rose upon the morning air with curious distinctness. Through the blue shadows in which it swam the tall chimneys soared aloft, sending their feathers of smoke up to the new day. It lay in its hollow like a picture, all trans- parent washes of amethyst and gray, overlaid by clear mountain shadows. The world was in this waiting stage of flushed sky and shaded earth when the superintendent's wife pushed open the door of her house and with the cautious tread of one who fears to wake a sleeper stepped out on the balcony. With her hand on the rail she stood, deeply inhaling the freshness of the houir.. The superintendent’s house, a one- story cottage, painted white, and skirted by a broad balcony, stood on an emi- nence above the camp. From its front steps she looked down on the slant of many roofs, the car tracks and the red wagon roads that wound along the slopes. Raising her eyes, they swept the ramparts of the everlasting hills, and looking higher still, her face met the ra- diance of the dawn. She stepped off the balcony with the same cautious tread, and along the beat- en footpath that led through the patch of garden in front of the house. Beyond this_the path wound through a growth of chaparral to where the pines ascended the slopes in climbing files. As ghe ap- proached she saw the sky barred with their trunks, arrow-straight and bare of branches to a great height. Farther on she could see the long dim aisles, held in the cloistral silence of the California forest, shot through with the golden glimmer of sunrise. The joy of the morning was in her heart, and she walked forward with a light step, humming to herself. Two months before she had come here, a bride from San Francisco, weak from fllness, pale, hollow-eyed, a shadow of her for- mer self. Bhe had only crept about at first, swung for hours on the balcony in her hammock, or sat under the trees looking down on the hive of men, where her husband worked among his laborers. As her mother had grown back to the fullness of life in the hslol-iI‘ breath of the mountains. so Marip slowly re- gained her old beauty, with an added touch of subtlety, and found her old be- liefs returned to her with a new signifi- cance. To-day she had awakened with the first glimmer of dawn, and stirred by a sudden desire for the air of the morning on her face and in her lungs, had stolen whispered. an what and out. Breathing in the resinous atmogphere a new influx of life seemed to run like sap along her limbs, and lend “THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE” This novel by Archer Butler Hulbert, for which thereis now an enormous demand because of the thrilling and authentic manner it tells of Russia’s secret intrigue against the Korean monarchy that led to the murder of the Queen in 1895 in order that the Czar might gain a hold on the kingdom, as well as its vivid description of the queer customs and superstitions of the Koreans, will begin in the NEXT SUNDAY CALL her step the buoyancy of a wood nymph's. Her eye lingered with a look that was a caress oa flower and tree and sarub. The song she had been humming passed from tune to words, and she sang Softly as she brushed through the chap- arral, spipping oif a leaf, bending to pluck a wild flower, pausing to aumire the glossy green of u manzanita bush. Under the shadow of tie pines she halt- ed by a rugged trunk, a point of vantage she had early discover: nd leaning her hand on the bark, survi d the wild prospect. The sense of expectancy in the .air seemed Intensified. The quivering radi- ance of pink and gold pulsed up tne sky from a point of concentration whica every moment brigitened. The biue shadows in the camp grew thinner, the little wisps of mist that hung over the river more: threadlike and phantasmal. A throw-back to unremembered day! came suddenly upon her with a mysteri- ous sense of familiarity. She seemed to be repeating a dcar, iong dead experi- ence. The vision and the dream of days of exquisite well-being, care-free, cher- ished, were with her again. Faint re- curring glimpses of such _mornings. strong of balsam of pine and fir, musical with the sleepy murmur of a river. se- rene and sweet with an enfolding passion of Jove in which she rested secure, rose out of the dim places of memory. The 2 content of her girlhood spoke to ross the gulf of yvears, finding it- in her womanhood. The . the old thrill of wonder d se of safety in a love were hers once more. The song on her lips passed from its absent undertone to notes gradually full and fuller. It was the aria from ~Mig- non,” and. as she stood, her hand on the tree trunk. looking down into the swim- ming shadows of the camp, it swelled outward in tones strong and rich, vibrat- ing with their lost force. FPervaded by a sense of dreamy happi- ness, she at first failed to notice the un- expected volume of sound. Then, as note rese upon note, welling from her chest with the old-time, vibrant facility, as she felt once again the uplifting sense of triumph possess her, she realized what it meant. Dropping her hand from the tree trunk she stood upright, and facing the dawn, with squared shoulders and raised chin, let her voice roll out into the void before her. The song swelled triumphant like a hymn of some pagan goddess to the ris- ing sun. hush. with the columns of the monumen- al pines behind her, the mountain wall nd the glowing sky in front, she might have been the spirit of youth and love chanting her joy in a prindeval world. When the last note had died away she stood for a moment staring be- fore her. Then suddenly she wheeled, and, catching up her skirts with one hand, ran back' toward the house, brush- ing between the tree trunks and through - the chaparral with breathless haste. s she emerged from the thicket she saw her husband, in his rough mining clothes, standing on the top step of the balcony. “Gam!” she cried, “Gam!” He started, saw her, and then waited smiling as she came running up the ga: den path toward him, the blaze of tI sky behind her, her face alight with life and color. X “Why, dearest, I didn’t know what had happened to you,” he cried. “Where did you go?" Her unslackened speed carried her up the stairs and into his arms. Standing on the step below him she flung hers round his shoulders and, holding him tight, said breathlessly: “What do you think has happened?” You met a bear in the wood.” y voice has come back.” The two pairs of eyes, the woman's looking up, the man's down, gazed deep- ly into each other. There was a moment of silence, the silence of Poople who are still unused to and a little overawed by their happiness. “I heard you,” he said. “You did? From here?” “Yes. 1 heard some one singing and stood here listening, watching the light coming up.” “Was it _good?” she asked, anxiously. “Very. ] had never heard you sing be- fore. You're a prima donna.” . “That's what I was going to be. You remember hearing us talking about it at the Garcias’'?" He nodded, looking down at the face where health was coming back in deli- cate degrees of coral to lips and cheeks. “And it really did sound good?” she ‘Quite soft and full, not harsh and with all the sound of music gone out of it?” “Not a bit. It was fine.” She_ continued to hold him round the shoulders, but her eyes dropped away from his, which regarded her with im- movable earnestness, touched by a slight, tender humor. She appeared to.become suddenly thoughtful. “You can be a prima donna still” he said. “Yes,” she answered, nodding slightly. “I suppose I can.” “And it's a great career.” “Yes, a splendid career.” “You travel everywhere and make a fortune.” ess all right.” from him, letting one Her face had grown serious. {the looked disappointed. “Well, do you want me to be a prima donna?’ she asked, looking at her hand. He continued to regard her without answering. the gleam of amusement dy- ing out ef his eyes. “Of course,” she added in a small voice, “if you've set your heart on it, I will 3 “What do you think about it yourself?” he asked. She gave him a swift side look. just a raising and dropping of the lashes. “Say what you think, first,” she coaxed. “Well. then, T will.” He put his two hands suddenly on her shoulders, big. bronzed hands, hard and musdylar, that seemed to seize upon her delicate flesh with a master’s grip. “Look at me,” he commanded. She obeyed. The gray eyes held hers like a magnet. “I think no. %ou don't belong to the public; you belong to me.” The color ran up into her face to the edge of her hair. “Oh, Gam,” she whispered on a rising breath, “I'm so relieved.” He dropped his hands from her shoul- ders and drew her close to him. With his cheek against hers he said softly: “You didn’t :‘hink 1 was that kind of fool, did you?" " Th: sun ’had risen as they talked, at first slowly peering with a radiant eye over the mountain's shoulder, then shak- ing itself free of tree-top and rock-point, and swimming up into the blue. The top of the range stood all glowing and gold- en, with here and there a white peak. snowily enameled. 'The rows of pines werr overlaid with rosy brilllance, shadows slantips down the slopes as if scurrying aw: from _the flood of heat and ligh! ‘The clear blues and amethysts that veiled the hollow of the camp were dispersed: the flims of mist melted; a quivering silvery sparkle played over the river shallows. In the clearing beams the life of the hive below seemed to swarm and fill the air with the clamor of its awakening. The man and woman, looking down, saw the toiling world turning to its day’s work—the red dust rising beneath Ind- ing hoof and wheel, the cars sliding swiftly on their narrow tracks, heard the shouts of men, the hum of ery, and through all and over all, the regular throb of the engines -like the ;:{ul:t which animated this isolated world bor. B-rr;u looked at his domain for an at- She drew aw: hand rest on his shoulder. their long tentive moment. “There.” he said, pointing down. “is ‘where I belong. That's my life—to work in_ wild places with men. And yours is ;‘im nel., my prima donna. We go to- 1 working and you In the stillness of the dawn- |