The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 26, 1904, Page 12

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL/ (Cop g 0 v ank H. Sweet.) 33 « sand rang the figure ugh the rice i hesita then turned and came slowly toward the sentinel. It wa the uniform of a com- near : ferred of the cc \ding officer. “A deser your distinguished highness,” the sergeant reported, sa- luting The officer looked up from a chess- board on which he had been maneu- vering : lines of battle. He was handsome fellow, with a eyes fell upon the slightly. he exclalmed. The ed satiric . ihiro,” he answered, > 1 ought t» &dd ‘no- uished highness, now an officer.’ waved his han id to the ser- sh to speak with the pris- Then, W few minutes." withdréw, “You under- involves?” ourse caldly; “deserting is deat “Yes, Ceath,” grimly, “and I will see that 1ity is paid to-morrow morr ise. But greater than death - the disgrace of de- That serting will go with you into the grave and out to darken the thoughts of all your friends.” s e ENDERBY'S WAY By Sidney H. Cole (Copyright, 1904, by T. C. McClure.) “Have you thought it over?” said T was eminent characteristic of he. Enderby. He had known Miss Car- Now this question was entirely ir- ael scarcely three months, but rby’s mind time was not measured by the clock They were walking homeward from the opera. Miss Carmichael had in- sisted that they walk; it was a perfect might and the distance home was short. When they entered the quiet street where Miss Carmichael lived Enderby fell into & brown study. The girl be- side hifn was talking in eprightly fash- fon of nibelungs and Rhinemaidens, all of which was lost to Enderby’s ears. They had reached the substantial Car- michael residence, when Enderby came suddenly from his reticent silence—so suddenly, indeed, that he interrupted the gfrl in the middle of a sentence. “Look here,” said he, “I'm a pretty steady-going sort. I've a fair income and a steadilv growing clientage. I want an establishment of my own. ‘Why wouldn't it be a good idea for us to marry?” iss Carmichael was so thoroughly astounded that she found no reply un- til they had reached the top step and Enderby was struggling with the latch- key. *“Good gracious!” was all she man- a&ged to gasp even then. “I mean it,” said Enderby. “Think it over if you like. T don't necessarily expect my answer right now.” “Good night, Mr. Enderby,” she said rather coolly, and the door swung shut behind -her. Enderby strode down the street to- ward the club with never a qualm in his mind and never a tremor beneath his immaculate shirt front; but that was Enderby’s way. After that he saw Miss Carmichael as usual, and for several weeks made no allusion to the matter. At first the girl wag furtively uneasy in his presence, but as the weeks went by and he said nothing more, she evi- dently began to think the affair had passed from his mind. But in that she misjudged Enderby. One late March evening, as they sat before a blazing fire in the big hall, Enderby suddenly toox: up the conver- sation where it had ended weeks be- fore. relevant to the talk of the moment. “Have 1 thought what over?” Miss' Carmichael asked. “Marrying me?” said Endérby terse- ly. “I'm a very practical man—not romantic and that sort of thing, you know. Still, I flatter myself I'd make a fairly good husband. You'd have a house and servants very much like this establishment here.” Miss Carmichael’s eyes opened wide. Was ever a girl wooed in such cold-blooded fashion, she wondered. She spoke calmly, yet her voice was not as firm as she intended. “Mr. Enderby, 1 thoroughly respect you, but'as for marrying you—" She paused and Enderby went on. “Perhaps you want to think it over a little longer. That will be all right. I'm not one of the impatient sort. Good-night.” He slipped on his overcoat, took his hat and stick, and departed leaving ‘..e girl divided between amazement and wrath. Spring was well advanced before En- derby broached the subject again. It ‘was one evening just as he was about to depart from the Carmichaels, and it was with the usual abruptness. “Have you decided to marry me yet?” said he. Miss Carmichael looked at him steadily, and this time her ‘voice was very firm. “No, Mr. Enderby, T have not; nor do I think 1 ever shall decide to mar- ry you." “That’s all right,” said he. At the door he turned. “If you should change your mind let me know.” To this day Miss Carmichael is un- decided whether the tears she shed were of mirth or of anger. She felt certain thie was the end of it; but En- derby came as heretofore to take her driving, or to the theater, or to ves- pers on a pleasant Sunday. His man- ner was quite unchanged; it was as if nothing whatever had happened. Summer came, and the Carmichaels left the city for their pretty country place in a quiet village. Every sec- ond Saturday Enderby came down to ] Kurino threw back his head scorn- fully, his eyes flashing. That is a ne, Shihiro,” he said, “and you know it. I am not a desert- er. I am not even a part of your mis- erable command. I am,a Korean and was seized and forced into your com- pany unlawfully. I have taken no oath and made no promise and it is not deserting for me to get away if 1 can.” Shihiro’s hard face did not change. “To-morrow morning at sunrise,” he repeated. “In cases of desertion the army has no time for sentiment. It 'would not be safe. = There are too many dissatisfied soldiers who are ready to fellow a bad example. You e The portly head of dine with them. the house of Carmichael entertained a genuine and outspoken liking for the reserved young man, and Mrs. Car- michael was voluble in his praises. Miss Carmichael said nothing, but she recognized some potent fascina- tion about this strange, reticent man and his stranger method of wooing. Sometimes it amused her; sometimes it angered her; and yet his plain words and his frank strength appealed to her more strongly than she cared to ad- mit. What manner of man was this, she asked herself countless times; and each time a definite answer was want- ing. That Saturday afternoon Miss Car- michael was alone in the house. At 4 o'clock a tree agent came to the door, and by persistent efforts to sell his goods was making himself very obnoxious. At this juncture Ender- by came up the walk. .He heard the voices in the hall and took in the situation at a glance. He laid a hand :nne too gently on the agent’s shoul- er. “You're annoying the lady,” said Enderby severely. “Is that any of your business?” said the man, with heated insolence. “None at all,” said Enderb¥ cheer- fully. Whereupon he took the man by the collar, marched him to the porch and helped his undignified re- treat to the gravel walk. The agent rose from the gravel, sputtering profane invective. Ender- by started down the stens. “Haven't had enough, eh?” said he, and something in his tone and ex- pression forced upon the irate agent's understanding a realization of the bet- ter part of valor. He fled the field in inglorious haste. Enderby returned to the hall. “Oh!"” said Miss Carmichael in tones of relief, “he was positively insulting. I'm so glad you came.” “That's all right,” said Enderby. And then—perhaps something in her voice suggested the course—En- derby tempted fate once more. “Going to marry me?” he said. “Mlss Carmichael laughed hysteric- ally. “Of course 1 am, you funny man,” she said. “How on earth can I help myself 2" Enderby looked puzzled. “You're quite sure you want to?” he asked doubtfully. ‘“Very, very sure, dear,” said Miss Carmichael gravely. “Good! Good enough!” said En- derby with hearty satisfaction. It was Enderby’s way. FRANK H.SWEBET. - were seized on Japanese soil, among’ other men whose duty it was to be in the army. Your name is on the roll, and you have tried to desert. That is enough.” “So it seems. But you know why I was on Japanese soil.” “To see the daughter of Laio,” in- voluntarily slipped from the officer. He bit his lips. - ,“Yes,” boldly, “to see Nuyama, $he daughter of Laio, the great merchant of Mivaz. It was with her father’s consent, and we were to be married in a month. It lacks but four days now. That is why I tried to get away, for you have prevented my sending any word,” He was silent YOV KURINO'?® HE a moment, then went on contemp- tuously: “You could not harm me in my own country, Shihire, for I am emore powerful there than you are -here. So youstook this way. ou thought I could be remov:d tryom your path in battle. But my trying to leave makes it easier. Now you can kill me at sunrise and have it appear a duty, and you will try to advance your interests by what ygu will call my disgrace. But it will be all feath- ers in a gale,”” his voice commencing to ring. " “I know Laio, and T know Nuyama, and they will not change. Nuyama has said she loves me, and she will centinue to love me in spite of all that you and the world may do, r that is a woman's way.” “You will seek to win her father; seek to win her without her father, perhaps, as you have already tried, but it will be useless. And if you try to win her through what you call my disgrace, she will hate you, hate you, Shihiro. I know. Yes,” at the sud- den whitening of the officer’s face, “and you know, too. Nuyama is a goddess among women, and I would rather die with her love than live with her hate.” You may do your worst.” Shihiro’s hand trembled wisibly as he raised it to his eyes to shade them for a moment from the other’s gaze. “You are mistaken, Kurino,” he said at length in a low voice. “I did not have you seized as you think. I did not even know you were in my com- pany until a few @ays ago. “When I discovered you were here, though, I admit I was glad. It put you out of my path temporarily, and there was the chance of your being killed. And now this mistake of yours has solved that part of the problem permanently. I am not having you pay the penalty because you are in my path, mind, but because you are a deserter. Any man in the army would suffer the same. But In this case” frankly, “{ am glad; though,” a note of doubt coming into his face, ‘“per- haps I shall not speak of your dis- grace to Nuyama and her father. I may concede you that mercy.” Kurino smiled understandingly. Shihiro saw the smile, and his face darkened. “Malu!” e called harshly. The sergeant entered. “Take the prisoner to the guard- house and watch him closely. Have everything ready for the execution at sunrise.” In the guardhouse, with the curious, unfriendly eyes no longer watching him, Kurino's scornful composure van- ished. He squatted upon the earthen floor, with his eyes fixed drearily up the little square hole through whic fell a shaft of light. The hole was t small for him to squeeze through, there was a double guard outsi door. This was to be the end, not ¢ of his political advancement in Kor but of that sweeter possibility wh he had won and must now lose. The hours dragged by, until from th shifting light he knew that it was afte midaight. Then the door opened ar some one came in. He did not ev turn. It was a guard soltcitous for safety, or perhaps come to mock hir “Kurino!” a voice called. Kurino sprang to his feet, wondering for in the voice was the same drear hopelessness that he had been feeling “Shihiro!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I—I have been thinking it and it is as you say. Nuyama hate me. Here,” thrusting a paper Kyfino’s hand. “It is an honorab charge from the army. It will pas, through the lines. Now go!” “What,” incredulously: “you let ves,” more harshly; “but not for you. It is for Nus love her, too. I would rather die for her to think ill of me. Now Go! ‘Go!” At the door Kurino looked ba voluntarily. Shihiro was sq upon the earthen floor, gazing lessly at the little square hole th which the light dropped. ' PRINCESS FLAVIA'S BETROTHAL < P S (4 HE reyal house of Rurutania demands your aid and protec- tion. I must speak to you at once. Be cautious.” Malcolm Morgan read the note a second time, then glanced curi- ously at the little woman across the aisle. There was nothing about her to suggest the fantastic. She was just a dainty little old lady, scarcely five feet tall, with whom Father Time had dealt gently. Now she was watching him in a flutter of ‘expectation. Surely there was something odd, but—Morgan crossed the aisle. “How can I serve you?” he asked, as he dropped into the seat beside her. She gave a tiny cry of delight. “I knew I could not be wrong,” she said, glancing apprehensively about the car. “I knew you were from Rurutania. I am—sh—" she lowered her voice, “Ethel, Princess of the Royal Hou: > Morgan gave a start. Here was a little woman who claimed connection with a royal family of fiction, yet gave no indication of the insanity proven by her words. She accepted the start as a tribute to her revelation. “I do mot wonder that you start,” she said complacently. ou must be famillar with Rurutania news and EXCLAMED -l!- By E. Sargent —= -+ know that I am pursued; still it is strange to find me here in America. I am going to my niece, the Princess Flavia, who _is now in Chicago.” There was something grotesque In this odd jumble of the Hope story and the American towns. Morgan glanced apprehensively about the car. There was no woman to whom he could make appeal. There were three in the sleep- er, but Morgan knew the type only too well. One was evidently a traveling saleswoman, since she fraternized with the other commercial travelers in the car and made notes of the points they offered for her instruction. One was evidently a soubrette who vied with the woman drummer for the attention of the men. The third was a young woman whose very face betokened her incapacity. He leaned over to the little Princess. “It wou'd be better,” he suggested, “that no one else should know that you are a Princ 1, too, am going to Chicago, and will wait upon your com- mands. The others in the car are not to be trusted, believe me.” “Bless your heart,” she fairly beamed upon him—it is not always that her Rurutanian subjects yielded this ready acquiescence—"1 don't dare reveal my- self to any but a Rurutanian. Don’t vyou see”—her voice grew confidential— “that there is Black Michael in the smoker? It would never do for him to realize that I was in this very car, when he came to* America on purpose to destroy me. He thinks that with me out of the way'it would be easy to marry Flavia. That will nevédr be. I am determined that she shall marry Rudolph. That is why I am forced to flee my own country.” All that long afternoon Morgan hu- mored her whim. It would never do to let her proclaim her royalty to the oth- ers. There was not a single soul in the crowded Chicago sleeper who would see the pathos of her condition. Instead she would be made the object of their jeers. She was such a dainty lttle old jady that he could not bear the thought of her being subjected to ridicule. He took her in to dinner, paying proper deference to royalty and show- ing that he appreciated the honor of dining with one of a race of kings. After that he played piquet with her until she became sleepy, and it was he who gave the porter an extra tip to make her berth down first. Early the next morning she was in her seat, smiling and happy, when Morgan emerged from his berth. She beckoned to him. “I slept soundly,” she said blithely. “From time to time 1 wakened to hear the tramp of my knight's footstens in the aisle, and I knew that the Princess of Rurutania was safely guarded.” Morgan divined that the awakenings were due to the stops and that her knight's footsteps were those of the porter as he conducted weary travelers to their berths, but he smiled and said nothing. All the morning he played her favor- jte piquet with her, and in a way it was a help to him, for it made him forget that he was on his way to seek the zirl he loved. A few months be- fore it had been his duty, as District Attorney in a town near New York, to obtain the conviction of a murderer. | & i g ACK BERENSON caught sight of her as he was going to the office after lunch. He _ frequently caught sight of her, but this was the extent of their acquaintance. He had groaned more than once to think conventionality forbade a more extended one. She was not the kind of a girl with whom one might scrape up a bowing recognition, to be later elaborated in an exchange of com- monplaces that might culminate in permission to call. Indeed, if she had been, it is safe to conclude Berenson would not have troubled his head about her, for he had a social posi- tion to maintain, a good deal of per- sonal pride and more than the aver- age sense of exclusiveness. “Halloa!” he said suddenly, and stopped short. The girl ahead had paused. She was evidently in some predicament. For she stooped as though to extricate herself or to pick up an article drop- ped. Almost at the same instant, how- ever, a tremendous dray, piled with boxes, bore down upon her, and at the ghout of the driver, who was striv- ing to rein in his huge Percherons, she sprang toward safety and reached the sidewalk. Berenson let the dray pass. Look- ing down directly on the spot where the girl had hesitated, he saw that which had arrested her, and bending quickly, he pulled out of the thick, black, sticky mud an absurdly small rubber, with its wrinkles holding the arch of a high little instep. “Well!” he ejaculated. “Here's Tuck!™ He fe!t ridiculously elated. So pleased did he look, in fact, that a friend jostling him as he redched the opposite sidewalk, remarked his satis- faction. ““Wheat gone up, Berenson?" “No—rubber!” laughed Berenson. And his friend walked off wondering what there was in fishing footwear out of the mire to make a fellow look so idiotically pleased. A TWENTIET | By Kate M. Cleary | H CENTURY CINDERELLA It was clear that the man had cor mitted the crime, but a clever law yer had created a feeling of sympat for the criminal, and Irene Ost had coldly told him that she 1 never accept the love of a man wh had sent an innocent fellow being t the gallows. She had left for Omaha the ing morning, and had not e him a chance to plead his c was on his way there now, hope that a change of scene w enable him to make a more su appeal to her reason. The breaking of the engage had been a terrible shock to h r her Highness from Rurutania at las enabled him to partially forget th that was gnawing at his heart Shortly before 3 the train pulled the yards at Chicago, and pres they were in the station after a te journey between lanes of freight passenger trains on side tracks. J before they arrived the Princess sisted upon having his card Chicago address. “We Rurutanians are so few,” protested, “that I am unwilling to | sight of so faithful a subject.” And unwillingly he had given her his card with “The Bismarck™ hastily p ciled in the corner. She would for before she had rfeached her hom argued. There was a young man at the trai to meet her, and he was warm in thanks to Morgan. The young [ Attorney hurried to the hotel that to break his travel. Three hours a bellboy knocked upon his door handed in a dainty note. “The ‘Princess Fla unfamiliar hand, “wo " it read i a be glad welcome to Chicago the traveler from has ‘Rurutania,” who by his court done so much to help the Ethel,” ” and = there followed 2 dress on Michigan avenue. From curiosity Morgan determ to follow the odd experience to end, and as soon as he could unpack his dress suit he called a gave the address. Arriving he was promptly show into the parlor and in a moment the entered a woman whose presence caused Morgan’'s heart to thrill. With 3 a cry of “Irene!” he sprang forward and in another moment she was folded within his arms. Ten minutes later, when speech was possible, she explained that the Prin- cess Ethel was her maiden aunt whose dementia took the form of the belief that she was one of the omitted characters in the Hope novel. “When I heard from Cousin Jack,’ she said gently, “of the man who had been so kind, I realized that you had done it to keep her misfortune from the rest of the car, and a man who can take all the pains to spare poor Aunt Ethel cannot be as heartless as 1 supposed you were. 1 realize my mistake, Morgan. Can you forgive me?” A kiss was his only answer, but an eloquent one. So engrossed were they that they failed to hear footsteps until a thin treble was heard announcing. “Well, I never suspected that you were the real Rudolph, but I am glad that my niece came from Omaha to meet me.” “Then the Princess Ethel proves?” asked Morgan. “Yes,” declared the Princess Ethel. and a whispered echo, “Yes” from the Princess Flavia, sealed the under- standing. cab a 4 ap- < +* g + — “It was mightv muddy, commented disgustedly. This accusation could not be made against it an hour later, cleansed and polished to the highest possible de- gree by the man who kept the shoe- stand in the office building where Berenson had a suite. He took his prize upstairs, and deposited it wrapped in tissue paper, on the top of his desk. Then he sauntered to the window to look over at the skyscraper across the way, where at a certain window, in a certain tier, he had often seen a cer- tain head. It was a shapely head, ringleted as close as a baby's with sunny brown curls. Indeed, so fre- quently of late had he gone to his own casement to discover if that particular bonnie head and rose-leaf face were within range of his vision that his business began to suffer from such erratic absences. Not that Jack Berenson was bother- ing himself about business. During those minutes he stood, absorbed in day-dreams, staring apparently at the uninteresting wall of an uninteresting building. He was thinking for the most parvhow strange it was that he, who had come gayly up the road of life. heart-whole and fancy free, until he had reached his thirtieth milestone, should all at once be beset by the most chimerical hopes, the most futile desires, the most glorious if chaotic imaginings. It was lunacy, he told himself—stark, staring lunacy—that he should go on his way with a bounding heart and a feeling of the most senseless exhilara- tion, fust because he had passed a girlish figure on the sidewalk, met the indifferent glance of violet, black- lashed eyes, looking forth from beneath a white brow, or caught the faint. elu- sive perfume of her demure garments. And the worst of it was that he could not bring himself to be indignant with himself for being such a fool! “You like to be a fool!"” he told him- self angrily. “You're hugging your too!” he -1 And much good it will do you! g?glu}'ve not got enough sense, Jack Berenson, to last a crazy man till breakfast time!” With which final shot he was apt to break away from his vigil return sternly to his desk, and plunge into work until—until he began to wonder if she.might have returned to her chair in the window—or by any chance be going out. Though whether out or in, there had seemed slight chance of mak- ing her acquaintance before Fate, in the guise of a treacherous street cross- ing, had placed a belonging of hers in his possession. But when he had sallied forth with his prize his courage almost failed him. ‘And when the elevator man let him off at the eighth floor, as bidden, it was an insane desire to make his imme- dlate escape by way of the staircase that overwhelmed him. But he pulled himself together and went toward the suite of doctors’ offices which he knew occupfed that particular angle of the big building. Some of the physicians whose names were inscribed on the tablet in*the corridor were friends of his. “Hope I don’t run into Norton, or Schriener, or MacIntyre,” he said. “Hope T don’t.” But he did—all three of them. They and a few of their professional asso- ciates had met in the reception-room previous to attending ‘a medical con- vention .in a body. It seemed to poor Berenson, standing helinlessly in the doorway with his package In his hand, that the place was packed with eyes— curious, inquisitive, mocking eyes! But a few voices called out pleasant- ly enough, “Hallo—how d'ye do, Beren- son?”’ And Maclntyre came forward with a smile that made his ugly coun- tenance) quite charming. “Your—the voung lady—" stammered Jack. He held out the package much as though it were a letter of introduc- tion. “‘She lost this, and—" “Oh, 1 see!™ The é==tor turned hast- ily. “Miss Meredith!” he called. <+ A girl—the girl—came from an ad- joining room. She looked lovelier than ever without her hat and coat. Her soft, green gown fitted her as its sheath fits a flower. And the pretty, bewil- dered look in her eyes made them look more than ever like violet stars. Berenson knew then how a man felt who performs a deed of daring in the cannon’s mouth. 5 s behind you this noon,” he be- gan, “and when you lost this—" “Oh, thank you!"™ she Iaterrupted, comprehending at once, and taking the offered bundle. “You were very kind to bring it to me!™ “Vera,” Maclntyre said, “let me in- troduce to you Mr. Berenson. You have often heard Alice mention him, I am sure. Jack—this is Miss Meredith, my wife's sister!” And them as they bowed he went on by 1 1y of explan- ation, “Vera has been looking after callers at the offices here during the last six months. She would work—you know what girls are!™ Jack didn’t know, but he mentally decided to remain ignorant no longer. He would remedy his deficiencies in this respect as soon as possible, at least as far as this one bewitching maiden was concerned. And he vowed that he had never before guessed what thoroughly delightful chap MaclIntyre was until he heard the lat- ter sayving before he went off with his friends: “Oh, 1 say, Berenson! Come to din- ner to-morrow night—quite Infor- mal, vou know. Six o'clock. Alice ‘will be mighty glad to see you! Jack looked doubtfully inte the violet eyes. There was a smile in them, though the lins were sweetly serious. “I'l come!"” onromised Jack fer- vently. He wrung his friend's hand vigorou: the ardor of his friend- ship. ™ yeu, I'll come!™ And @ *0 himself as he strode back to tl ‘office with his head in a whirl it might not be quite s romantie find a rubber in Chi- cago m#d as a slinper on a ballroom floor, but that it has its—possibilities! 1t would serve!