The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 4, 1906, Page 1

him. From the de- scending folds of streaked with strands of The Sunday Call has secured rights of Geraldime Bonner’s great novel, “The Pio- and to-day presents to cond install- she cried with her “We had just Isn’t it hot?” her hair rose, the walked slowly ), the little path. presented to his ga 1t into by a single win- earer he saw ¥y, and that the vine 1 was a grépe, its thick- eager interest. Sha gave a little smile and a waxen hand termer more fami them — interv emerged from A tBw steps led to the ald in a sweet, face with ey CHAPTER VI ried whisper. stripes of a of carpeting tion came like membered hung. de- ., had been mend- hes that had thrown he path had been to restraining poles us. DNow con't look surprised—" then raising her voice a “Mother dear, her: 3 herself to him a® ran down the steps that advanced along the path was off and be nel Parrish” and - held it was facing took off his nave known her ' till ‘he heard ‘the voiee' and’ “saw ‘ the ‘smile: They were the . same. + The - ‘6ld’ “aimple had disippeared and .a wrinkle had taken 'its place.’ 'The eyes, the cledr, greenish-brown eyes, weré sunken into dark caverns, the satiny skin grown loose and ' sallow. Yet it was Alice, Alice old before her ‘time, .Alice sick, Alice. dying. p 5 He turned round and found a chair,’ for the moment ‘not ‘daring to 'speak.’ He 'was gonscious of the figure of Rosa- mund ‘walking toward the garden drag- ging a serpent<like length of hose be- * hind ~her: Then he placed the chair close to the sick.woman and sat down. To him’it was a. honientrthat' he had thought of “in-dark reveries, ahd even in thought! found' too painful. :Now he was consclous that, there jwas & :tran- quillity « about it;° and bsence of tension, whith wasidue o’ Alice. Her manner suggested nothing but a.peace- ful recollection of old!friendship: Was it that the near approach:of death was wiping out all the disturbjng and cruel emotiong, all the biting memories, that belonged- to lite? s She looked at him.with - her little affectionate smile - as &' sick slster . might. PR S 5 ““It's 50 ‘queer it being you,”: she said. “When June told me-I couldn't belleve" it. - After—after—how long isvit, Jim?" - “Twenty-one. years,” he said.' ‘“Yes, twenty-one years,” she repeat- ed. “How. time filesl; And what. a lot has. happened in: those twenty-one " years. . You're rich, .they ‘say. ‘And:. your hair's quite white, but I'd have known .you ywhe You're ' not much changed.”, e A She cosntinued to look at him with the same .gentle, softly" exploring ‘air. He had had an idea that! even In ‘death he would see shame and remorse in her eyes, but they were as devoid of either as though he had never been other than a girlhood friend. “It: was-so odd your just happening ; '¢ on June'that way. She says you were 80 kind to her, she: felt immediately you ‘were. her friend.. Poor little June! " It was'such an amusement for her that - ‘evening. :She's not had much pleasure of “that kind,' And ‘she’s’twenty now, Just (the age when. a.girl longs for a little. of .the good times of life.” “She’s very likei/you,” he answered, “it—jtet 1@ ‘was going to say “shock- ed ‘'me,” but.he: had'a’feeling she would not understand - him. It me,” he safd” instead: . _ . 2 she's' very like me. - Every one ‘Her father'says'she 18 -just’ a replica of what I was ‘when he first- . knew me. And she’s such a sweet, loving little thing'" You don’t know how they" .work here—and with me to take care of." God has blessed me in. my chil- dren,, Jim:" el i o T . “.She turned . Her large, ‘sunken ' eyes on’ him, their somberness 1it by the fire ©f her maternal passion.. F *“They are the best girls in _the. world,” she said. | 3 7 P ‘shoulder—‘a close * corporation,’ sé Alice?” he’ there Wopia naye neen®more amusement < s ..for_ them. ; They'd ,hdve had a better chance:” _, “Then you've been happy, suddenly: asked. “Happy!” she echoed. ; “Q ways happy except when -our, bo . e That was our sorrow. . .dow't;know . SDe paused, her lids drooping. an air of whether you ever heard ofit. was ‘musiig guelancholy on. her face. Then just a baby, but he was our: Son. she raiséd her eyes and looked at him. A beautiful boy. He was John ture- ““Who Is there for { .em to'marry here?” gard 'Allen, too.” RN she asked. 5 The tolonel made no.comment, but ‘‘Marry!”—the colonel:had not thought she did not notice it, engrassed in_her Of that. '“They're very young for.that own, recital. ok o bR ] ., Yet aren’t they?’ He stammered. . .. . “Of course we've not been.very suc- , '_'Y?'ung? Yes, perhaps. But June is 20 cesstul, pecially of late years. , ROW."" X 3 é poverty’s not so bad.when youive got ° She let her head drop back op the cush- those you love around yqu. -And we've jons behind it, and turned it slightly away been’ like 'a little company, close to- from “him so'that-he could,.see her. in gether, always marching. shoulder to profile. Her hair was dressed in the fash- Beau lon ‘of her' youth, parted and drawn down it. We've had. bad' luck of all “sleekly ‘over ‘the tips of her ears. Seen Kinds, but you can bear bad.luck when thus, the emaclation of her cheeks part- you're all ‘together.” St .1y concealed, her face caught him with its The past, the' bitter, terrible_past sudden look of famiifarity. For a moment was dead to her.” She had .probably the veil.of years was jerked back and he never understood what it' had been' to' SAW his dld sweetheart. He gave a mur- him. Now ‘twenty years of love and MUreG exclamation and leaned nearer to struggle had almost obliterated it from ' her, .a word of tenderness wembling on Her' memory, and’ the coming of death his-livs. Simultaneously she turned to- ‘had wiped away its last faint tra ward hini, absorbed in her own thoughts. “You have been blessed, Alice,” he ‘I .was 24 when I married,” she sald. 'sald’in & low voice. “Life has fulfilled “Puople thén .thought tbat was quite all_your expectations,” old.” - “Not'all,” she answered, “What doesn’t matter for yourself matters for. your chil- - Féply, . and - she -went dren. It's hard for me to see them living fl:‘l‘ouu egotism, . - re, and in this way—"" she’ made a - *I want them to marry. gesture which swept the garden and the life for a woman. >And T have been so vineyard:. “That's hard for a mothér, a. happy ‘in married "life, - always, from mother who was bred differently and bred thie first till now." them for something different. I educated A silght smile touched her lips as her them myselt, Jim. They're not like the- -eyes, softened. with :memorfes, ‘lodked country girls around us. They're—" she -back over a life that love had-ennobled. / paused a moment and’then sald- withi an ¢ -Suddenly. she turned to him. For-~the air of sad solemnity—"'the children of a first"time in the. conversation she seemed and a gentlemap.’” ° © 'toLtransferher .Interest.from -her: own i d 2 «affairs-ta his. -~ S ““Any one can see that.”He murmured, T J toos" ¥ -#*You never married?"" she said. “That was & ‘pity.: Life's{ogly-half liyed with- T “He - turned .away hi§ héad, ‘unable to _on ‘in'her uncon- It's the’ only He dfd -not'k‘nd%{;{tf;::u, ‘m say. ;39' could ot ‘condole” “her. ' Tn her erty. and stekineas she nad t;\' 3 purposes ‘of ‘her life; lived it with-a pas-. slonate completeness as he had mnever mivia H done. The fullness ‘of it. compared to the ' . I was mean to you that time, long barren. emptiness of his, augmented-the a8a.", she said behind him. “But that of bleak loheliness that Tay “at<his~ was:all-in- tire past- ~That's-all forgot- col L the ent” he made no.-reply better .Our ‘ln?tshe- repeated in what seémed to “and théy're hap out ‘those tles.’ - o1 “10l, AMce!' he answeréd “with’a groan, and .rising -he-moved to:the ‘top of the steps. » * heart. - . S p . *“They'ré . -young'' - . she “they've not known mrueh n bad times began when_they were still lit- be an absent Lone. tle. But I—well, before I was sick it wag different. 1 helped. them and 1 was a far ;v-y now; such years ago. So companion, not a care.. Virginia City, tog, much has happened in between. It's was a pl&c?q_:htre. as they grew older, like another life, looking back on it.” time smooths away everything: it already brilliant-hued a wild Sare of‘color. THé darkunedg of “Forgotten and forgiven. It's all' so “Yes, all forgiven,” he said. “theu’, no’ anger with real lovel v “and Tsn't shadows “Of ' course mnot,” she| agreed, the pretty now, .with lengthening out: that way They looked aver the expanse the-low: sun’'s ‘rays® werd painting landscape + ‘whe: the ith the oaks was overlaid with L °go gilding, the dry grass looked orange. | “Have you_ seen the girls’ garden she asked. “They did it all thefiselves and they. raise encugh vegetables tg us and, some to sell. | They sell the grapes,. too. Last summer they mad® fifty dollars with their grapes.” So '“the improvements” werk of some practical good. The coloneh saw - the word dancing in the air before hig. “But ‘it's hard .to see.them wor! so. . In summer they're up apd out ‘al 8.7 Tt ‘doesn't Seem right to] me—their father's daughters.” Their grandmothey —Beau's mother—had six house slaves for her own private use, and I befors my father's, death, had a French gov- ernéss. A step on the path prevented him from replying: -Rosamund came around the ‘corner of the house, her face flughed, 2’ hoe i Her hdnd, which he now -saw to be’earthy. She had an anx- fous air. & ’ “Mother,. are you -tired, dear”’ she said, mounting the steps. Then turning to the visitor: ¢ “Mpther goés in before the sun sets. ‘It gets cool so suddenly! Just the mo- meént the edge of'the sun gets down behind the hill tue night comes up, it’s-bad for her to breathe that afr.” The colonel assufed Her he was ju: about .to ‘take his leave. The invalid * made no demand’ for him to, stay. Sit- . ting huddled amoag her shawls ~ she l6oked wah -and’ shrunken. He - felt that the ealm ‘interest of her attitude toward him fad now. from fatigue, turned suddenly. Into indifference. He faltered some words of farewell to her, his' -hand outy ~Mersi-feeling in his warm, strong grasp like a bundie of twigs. was extended and then lmply withdrawn. “Good-by she sald, .tarning to fol- ughter's movements with & low her waiting, dependent eye, “wom't you the come again before you go™ He murmured an assent from -