The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 5, 1904, Page 5

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. by Alec Bruce.) You Ma'amselle? 1t Pierrot, toward her on the the per- in Mon s0 are face, is pered he had sparkling her short, r bosom, for a » twisted sap- it r lashes mond as again, “you Ma'am- in trouble — ell him, hey she faltered, her hands, you—you—!" Her lips ther words w quivered; her eyes ~Marie, Ma I—1 ah, you think not broad breast swelled with a smothered love—a love that had known no utter- ence; for he was “Plerrot, the fool” & groom! And she? She was “Ma’amselle beau, ere Equestrienne,” in w's pri ting-ting-ting! he whis- y, “the first bell! You utes, and you go on. d not answer. y Pierrot, Plerrot, the yured, “and you—you Ma’amselle. No, From her tear-dimmed pped two small, pink star- d faced him. “Plerrot, ‘a said a fool!” she quavered. le you must not sa know you. A fool? say I will not tell not trust you, mon ami. 1 leesten! That & e dead-weight lifter, bah!" Again, he say s you will six times 7 o'clock And Pierrot, the programme, oul, -night’'s! Look at it, | understand!” nber eight, Ma’amselle, number on the programme, to-night's? 1 e somewhere,” he mumbled, doubtfully among the frilled of red, white and blue at his pockets. “Ah” at last with trembling fingers he unfolded the crushed, crim- gon sheet. “Hercules, Hercules, Hercu- he dead-weight lifter! To-night, to-night, to-might!” it read. “Head édownward from & swinging trapeze tw. y feet above the circus ring this world-wide champion will dangle in his teeth 100 pounds of solid steel. Is that 2ll? No! we tell you, no! But see for yourselves the most marvelous sight ever seen. From a ring beneath the suspended weight he will hold fast the 2d4ded burden of our premiere equestri- ; and backwards and forwards in swing and hang until dancing and pirou- etting on her galloping steed below.” “Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu!” muttered Plerrot, when he had read the bill, “I 4 air she w th she dro 5 8 (Copyright, 1804, by Martha McCul- loch-Williams.) 1 THINK there ought to be & law against making wills,” Jean said half tearfully. “So do I—almost” Aunt Mary answered with a little sigh. Jean began to laugh, & bubbling peal, good to Thereat whimsical, any other time I —not so very much,” ry protested. “I'm bound to say it for your father, my brother ne's as peaceabie as can be un- crowded real hard. I know in't ever have gone out of his quarrel with Major Hymes— g poor, old Uncle Jimmy as he did, he was bound to that will—it only said hat the old man had told him over nd over and over i was for “Y know,” Jean interrupted, then with a laugh: “I know, too, Aunty darling, ¥ re disgressed because I all be t out of the Mymes party. 1 do want to go—dreadfully. Not so much on account of Rob Hymes him- self, as to see who—all else is there— and what the Claytons will do to get 2 beau aplece—" . “H-m! I believe you'd like to ha a few beaux yourself, miss” Aunt Mary retorted. Jean smiled and nodded. “But I wouldn’t go gunning for them, Clayton fashion—not if I grew to the wall. But they are bound to understand, 1 understand, Ma'amselle. To-night you must answer ‘Oui,’ or he will drop the dead-weight from his teeth when you hang below!” Plerrot, Pierrot!”™ she cried, “I can- not, T will not perform to-night! See— I tremble; I could not stand; I could not ride Comanche Bill. I must beg off. I I—I will tell the manager!” fa'amselle! No, no, Ma'amselle, ve moment, one moment!” cautioned Pierrot, detaining her, and pressing his the crimson diamond on am sick. t, Pierrot,” she insisted, t, I—1" 3 Ma'amselle, you must not he whispered. “I have it, Pler- s it!” And again he glanced in- tently at the programme. “Bien, blen, I have it! In number seven you ride anche BIill. Ride him, Ma'am- Pirouette! Jump! Jump through drum; I hold it, Ma'amselle. Look, ber seven, ‘Mirabeau on Coman- che.”’ Bah, beg off? Non, non, trust errot. Have no fear. You will not g from Hercules' weight!™ But, Pierrot, how? How? You must tell me!™ Ting-ting—ting-ting-ting! “Second bell, Ma’'amselle,” he in- terrupted, “second bell!” and grasping the curtains he peeped through -the faded fringe. “Ah, the tiers, thev are black with people, black, Ma'amselle! There is no timeé, no time to tell Trust Plerrot, trust, truet!” And in a moment he was gone. . . . . . . . Fifteen minutes later, with an angry scowl Hercules, the dead-weight lifter, raised the flap of the manager's tent and entered. “Sir,” he announced, “my welght—m-my weight! It is stolen. Some prowlers, curse them! T—the last moment, too!"” “Stolen, stolen!” repeated the man- ager In his highest key. “By heavens man, and we have 3000 unbelievers in that tent all waiting to see your act. We've posted 1000 bills; we've adver- tised it for a month. We've—we've— Hercules, what is to be done?” “Well, sir,” growled the champion, darkly, “it ain't my fault, no, sir! But there's one way out of it; one way, I think.” “What way?” snapped the manager. “It's—it's the papler mache weight, sir; licht as a feather. I—I used to ractice with it,” stammered Hercules. But they—they wouldn’t know it from the real thing, sir; not on your life! Git two of the grooms, Dan'l and Pete, I know 'em well enough. They'll perspire an’ purtend a bit when they bring it on. Savez the idee, hey? I reckon you do, sir; ha, ha!” “Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the nanager, heartily. “Splendid, Hercules, endid. I'll write to Barkalow. You get a bonus for this—he, ha! And we can stave off challenges for one night, we'll invite inspection. r, v-very good, indeed!” And so it was arranged. Came at 8 o’clock dinging and dying amid raflway items. melted from list siding sounds; and six like snow in a tropical sunm, had Barkalow’s big wonder Comanche Bill, pink-nosed and 1d, with Mirabeau, was prancing around the mammoth ring. “Whoop, whoop, Wwhoop, Wwhoop-lah!” Crack! Through ribbon ring after ribbon ring the ma’amselle jumped, landing always fair, and dancing on her plush platform Suddenly, “Whoop, whoop.” A tissue drum went into shreds and Pierrot stepped down from his pedestal and - looked proudly at the lady. ‘Hurrah, hurrah The audience cheered and clapped their hands. “Well done, well done!” and ma'amselie bowed and~dimpled through her mask of rouge. But now it was number eight on the programme, and all eyes were focused on the performers’ entrance. “Hercules, Hercules!” The excited whisper gathered force and chased along and up and down the tiers. Jaun- tily the manager advanced and made a brief announcement. Two blue-coated, marry somehew—they have no money to speak of, and can't well do any- thing else.” “I wish you couldn’t do anything else—may be then you wouldn't hold your head so high you never see me,” somebody sald through the open win- dow. It was Rob Hymes, who had been eavesdropping these last three minutes. He went straight to Aunt Mary, kissed her handsomely, and patted her hand, then turned reproach- ful eyes on Jean. “If you think mother and I mean to be drawn into this absurd quarrel, you clearly don’t know the sort of folk we are. The case is just this—unless you say you'll come, there won’t be any party: p “Why, Rob, I'd love to—but how can I, with our fathers glaring and breathing out threatenings whenever they think of. each other?” Jean wailed. Rob snapped his fingers. “That for all their rows,” he said. *“I hate to seem wanting in respect to my elders and betters, neighborhood dignitaries, too—but Squire John Bascom ‘and Henry Hymes are a pair of spoiled children in spite of gray hairs, and need to be disciplined accordingly.” “Who's going to do it Rob dropped his eyes and answered meekly: “I propose to be a humble instrument in the hands of Divine Providence—and the Claytons.” Rob filliped them delicately, then went on: “We all know those old gen- tlemen have agreed ever since we two were born that we were born on pur- pose for each other. Indeed, my quick-action grooms spread out a bril iiant carpet star; and two others, red. faced and with straining arms and shoulders doubled over, brought on the plaything of the glant. “Ha!” In a moment he was there be- fore them, smiling and bowing, & span- + + A WILL AND A WAY By Martha McC. Williams Y&/, father thinks my main reason for be- ing is to gjve him a chance of calling you daughtér. To bring them to their senses, we must pretend not only to have taken up their quarrel, bpt that wl‘e are going to marry somebody else.” “You'll have an excellent chance to do it—if you say sweet things to Elsle Clayton,” Jean said. “But it's differ- ent, with me—I don’t know a soul I would dare to propose to—"' “I know several who are simply dy- ing for a chance to propose to you though,” Rob said gallantly, playing pigs-went-to-market with her fingers. Aunt Mary tried to look scandalized, but ended by laughing heartily. Jean drew down the corners of her mouth, and pretended to sigh, asking: ‘“Where shall I find them, Robpy, dear? I am simply pining to say ‘Yes!" and “Thanky’ to somebody.” “There's no time like the present— and you have never accepted me out- right,” Rob retorted. “But at. the party you are to smile your sweetest on Ben Lloyd—and Ben only. I know it’s pretty tough on him—but he has promised not to mind. Seeing he can't have you himself, he’s ready to do a man's part to help you get me.” Then the three fell talking all at once. It was late afternoon when Rob went home, humming a love tune, and smiling as he rode along. The Hymgs party turneC out to be far and away the grandest Hopewell neighborhood had ever seen. Notwith- standing, Major Hymes got up the morning after with a sense of aching loss. He sighed all through dressing, and at breakfast swore because there were no waffles, only biscuit, muffins and battercakes. At least he sald that was the reason. Rob, with his eyes in his plate and a general uir of dreams, smiled, 21d waited prudently for the storm to gather or blow over. But lightnine struck him when he was.least prepared for it. Midmeal his father turned square upon him, growling out: ““Whereabouts in your travels did you leave your manners and your senses? 1 think you had better go back and try to find them."” “What's the row, governor?” Rob demanded innocently. The major ex- ploded: 3 “That's what I'd like to know. There must be a row between you and Jean Bascom—last night you hardly were civil to her, but went tagging around after that Clayton creature.” “There’s the Bascom temper—I'm afrajd it's hereditary—besides, Elsie Clayton says she would permit the minister to leave obey in the marriage service,” Rob began. His father cut him short. “If mat- ters have gone as far as that,” he sald, “Just you listen to this, Unless you marry to #uit me you'll find that my will ties up things as tight as that old simpleton, Jimmy Jackson, tried to tie up all he left—" “Why, 1 thought you disbelieved in the will,” Rob interrupted. His father turned redder than ever, but went on, pounding the table hard between words. ‘Yes, sir,.your wife rust please me; or youill have hard sledding. Eisle Clayton, indeed! Look at your mother, sir, and be properly ashamed of your taste.” “I have nothing against Jean Bas- com,” Rob began judicially. “But she is taken up with Ben Lloyd. Then, too, she evidently takes her father's side— just as I have taken yours—" EENGTI. AND BIGNESS Og F/TY.SICAL “Then you're & tool for your pains, sir,”’ the Major fairly shouted. “Of she takes her father's side— that's the natural, the right thing for & woman. But you—If you were half a man, you would have shown her that you two had nothing to do with the case. You must be bewitched with the Clayton fried-egg eyes.” “Not particularly,” Rob sald, mask- g a laugh with a fit of coughing. “But I did make up to Jean—far enough to find out she would have nothing to say to me—not unless you apologized to the Squire, which I knew was out of the question.” “Indeed! You had better not know #0 much,” Major Hymes said with- eringly. “But if that's the hitch, why it's mighty easy straightened. Come along with me, sir! By George, it makes me think more than ever of Jean. If she sticks up this way for her father, what won’'t she do Iof a husband or a son?” Five minutes afterward they were galloping together toward the m lace. As luck would have it, Squire om met them just inside the gate. Major Hymes did not wait for a word of welcome—twenty yards off he roared out: *“Say, John Bascom! I've come to beg your pardon, and ask you for your daughter. Give 'em to me— quick, else I'll be making a fool will for other folks to quarrel over.” “I reckon I've a right to ask your pardon, Major,” Squire Bascom said, miling and holding out his hand. ‘But the daughter—there you've got me where the wool's short—I can't ak for her.” “Oh! All we want is a chance to have her speak for herself,” the Major answered. Rob smiled to hear him. Down in heart he knew what Jean would hi say. gled vision in scarlet and gold, a2 mira- cle of physical strength and bigness. He stretched out his iong, right arm; his left, too, and the muscles of them rose up like plaited whipcords. Then he breathed, and every man breathed with him. He broke a poker across his thigh and the cheers rang wild and deafening. He looked at the weight, at the trapeze above, at Ma'amselle with critical eye, and again the audiencé cheered. If before they had doubted the clalms in number eight, it was evi- dent, now, that they believed. Mirabeau? White as chalk beneath her mask, she held her breath and glared from her steed at Plerrot. And Plerrot? Eyes bulging outward he transfixed the little trapdoor in the belting below the orchestra stand. Suddenly the giant stepped before the Wweight and faced the high-priced seata. :.sbove his head he raised his hands. Once, twice, thrice!” On the third call he would swing and grasp and Juggle with the dead weight as with a toy. Click! Click! Pierrot, and only Plerrot heard It The violins and the flutes were mur- derlng sound, and the clown’s heart thumped, his chest like a drumstick beating the time. Click! Click! . Up went the .trapdoor and a boy, a very little boy, hatless, but with a sun- crisped thatch of curly halr, struggled through the ring.” For a moment he hesitated, blinking his big blue eyes in the glare of light. Then, quick as a flash he was over on the big carpet “Plerrot, Plerrot,” breathed Ma'am- selle, squeezing the cold fingers rest- Jdng on her saddle. “Once, twice—once, twice—whoop- lah!” shouted Hercules, bending swiftly and throwing his mighty arms between his legs. e Y ALFC BRUCE: But the boy was first. In his tiny hand he grasped the welght, and hoisting it to his slender shoulder sped with it like a startled hare across the ring and out through the quiver- ing curtains. “Ah, ha! Ha, ha, ha!" It brief trickle of laughter accentuating the intense silence that followed; for, in the thrill of a flute it all happened and no one had attempted to stop him. Rat, tat-tat! “Now, all together!” commanded the leader of the orchestra, coming gal- lantly to the rescue, and a bunch of mandolins and violins ripped the air. But music had no charms for the out- raged audlence, and at last the storm broke. Loud, long and deep-voiced it raged; ribald laughter, shrill jeers, dark threats and hisses like the angry exhaust of steam. “Gentlemen, gentlemen!" In vain did the manager attempt to stem the avalanche, but like a sick man’s whisper against a battery can- nonade his explanations and apologies melted on soundless lips. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, and I will explain, I—!" “You can’t do it, you can’'t do it!" piped a thin, querulous voice. “Tricksters! Swindlers! Money was one one minute ck! Money back! Boe for Barkalow!” cho- rused the galleries. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, I must tell yeou, I must tell you—!" “Tell nuthin’, nuthin’ at all!” vel- leyed the leaders. “Square the deal at number eight an’ screw out yer lights!™ “Gentlemen, order. order—!" “Hiss, hiss, hiss-s-s! Square the deal at number eight “Gentlemen, gentlemen- “Hiss, hiss, his And in the tick ce a few min- utes later, though he knew it not, the manager was paying back the fabu- lous price of a threat DOCTOR THORNTON'S | FAILURE ; | By Otho B. Senga 1} — (Copyright, 1904, by Otho B. Senga.) R. THORNTON, a successful speclalist in serious ocular dis- eases, was puzzling over a most unusual case in which he felt batfled and dismayed. He wrote to the celebrated oculist, Dr. Forrest, describ- ing the case, and asking for advice. The learned doctor approved the younger physician’s dlagnosis and made many valuable suggestions, urg- ing a month's preliminary treatment to prepare the nervous systém for the shock that would inevitably follow. His letter closed: “But my dear Thornton, don’t delude yourself or your patient. After infancy there isn’'t on2 chance in a million. Still, the fluid ap- plication, though painful, cannot harm —and there may be a miracle. Success would be a miracle, and you must pre- pare yourself and the patient for fail- ure."” Thornton feit bound to read this to Miss Langdon. She was 23 or 24, and had been blind sinee early childhood. Her face paled, but she spoke brave- ly. “Even the millionth chance is worth trying. Failure brings nothing that I do not already know.” Miss Langdon and her young brother Philip lived alone, except for the ser- vants, in the great, gloomy mansion on the anclent Langdon estate, and dur- ing the month of “probation,” as Tha- lia laughingly termed it, Thornton was a frequent caller. From their first meeting Thornton had felt the charm of Thalla's pres- ence. She had none of the pathetic pensiveness that is so often the accom- paniment of blindness. She was win- somely bright and cheery, and her wit was like flashing steel. After the necessary explanations were made the approaching experiment was not mentioned until the day came for the first trial. The application of the fluid used in the eyes was like pouring hot oil into an open wound, but Thalia made no sound nor uttered a word of protest. As he bandaged the eyes Dr. Thorn- ton sald pityingly, “This must be borne gwice more, Miss Langdon. WIill your courage hold out?” “It will be as nothing if I can only ses,” she whispered. She was trembling violently, and Thornton was conscious of a sudden tumult of emotions such as he never before had experienced. Before this he had thought solely of the fame he would win by success in & case so unusual. Now the thought of what the girl must endure was torture to him, and worse than that was the wretched uncertainty of the result. She was no longer a “case.” She was the “one woman.” He knew it! “When this is over,” he resolved, "I will tell her—if I succeed—" When the bandages were removed a week later and the eyes submitted to the required test his heart sank, for he saw there was no apparent change. Thalia did not speak, but the unuttered question of her eager face and tense listening attitude struck a sharp pang through his heart. “You know,” he said gently, “that I can give you no assurance until I re- move the bandage after the third ap- plication.” “It is only two weeks more,” she sighed. “I cln.wlfl-." ‘When the day came for the final test 1t was the man who was unnerved and pale. The girl to whom that day would bring the glorious boon of sight or the doom to hopeless darkness seemed en- dowed with a high, calm courage, that would have won the respect of a sol- dier. ‘When the eyes were free she neither moved nor spoke, ndr gave a sign of any consclousness of change. With jaws set close and hard, lest he betray the awful fear that made him weak and faint, Thornton adjusted the test- ing instrument—a quick sécond of sick- ening suspense—then he laid it aside, and for a while neither spoke. “Y have failed, Miss Langdon,” he eaid at last—"fafled.” His voice was quite calm, but it was the calmness of despair. Still Thalla did not speak. He sank into & chair, and gazed de- spairingly upon the exquisi face. Was it fancy, a trick of his over- wrought nerves—this clear light of love and tenderness that shone in the beau- tiful eyes and touched the tremulous lips with gladness? “Thalia,” he cried, springing te his feet, “you can see! You see me now. Tell me that you do! I cannot be- lieve that you do not see my face as your eyes meet mine!” The brave lips quivered, as she an- swered slowly and sadly, “No, Doctor Thornton, 1 cannot see. It is all just as it was before—night, black night!” Thornton groaned aloud. “There is no hope then, now or ever! I have failed—I have failed!” The utter hopelessness of his despair- ing cry borg to Thalia's heart a bitter- ness deeper than her own sorrow. She rose from her seat as if she would go to hi “Do not grieve go,” the sweet voice sald gently, “I do not mind so very much. And no one need know that you have falled—no one need know that you tried—" “Don’t, Thalla,” he cried “you make me despise myself. Then, at the sight of the pathetic figure, and the thought of the brave spirit that strove to forget its ownmn hurt and to comfort him, the love he had meant to offer with success rose above the barrier of fallure, and he came quickly to her side. “Thalla,” he whispered, let me take cars of you—always? WIill you be my wifs, Thalla?" Her slight form trembled under the tender touch of his hand, but she did not speak. Instead, she put her dell- cate, sensitive fingers up to his face, and touched him gently on the eyes and chin and mouth. Thornton knew that she was readine his face with her fingers, as her eyes might have read it had sight been given her, and he held himself in firm control, fearing he might frighten her with his agony of love and longing. The sweet flush faded from her face, she pushed him gently from her, and. turned away, saying coldly, “You ask impossibilities, Doctor Thornton.” She called softly for Philip, and In obedience to her impassioned gesture her brother led her from the room. “It is all over, dear Philip,” she sald in response to his anxious questioning. “I shall never see. Oh, don’t, Phillp—I don’t mind. There are worse things than blindness!” She sank wearily upon & couch, say- ing to herself bitterly, “I would rather my eyes were blind than to be so blind in the heart. Did he think a woman would be content with pity?™ Philip turned impetuously te the in- ner room. He could not believe that success had been withheld, that all hope was gone. How could Dr. Thorn- ton—but the hot reproaches of his heart dfed upon his lips at the ht of the doctor, sitting with bowed should- ers, his face buried in his hands. Great, noiseless sobs shook his frame, but he raised his head and tried to smile as he sald, “Don’'t mind me, Philip; and go away, please. You cannot under- stand.” But Philip did understand. “You've killed him, Thalia,” he cried tragically, rushing to his sister’s side. “You might have known he couldn't help loving you!" “No, Philip,” sald Thalla, sadly, “he only pities me because I am blind and because he cannot help me.” “Go In there now, Thalia,” pleaded Phillp, passionately, “and you will know. He seems like a man who has been stabhed, and to his death!™ His words and voice carried. convic- tion. Thalia rose. “Will you take me back to him, Philip?” Thornton felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and Thalia stood beside him, her beautiful face transfigured with love and gladness. The eyes of the soul had been opened, even though physical vision were still deriied. “I thought it was because you pitied me,” she sald softly; “and I did not want pity, I wanted—" She stopped and whispered a word in his ear, and John Thornton took her in his arms, with a heart too full for aught save si- lence. ‘pmel 3 “will you