The evening world. Newspaper, July 17, 1914, Page 11

( 013-1014, phi Co.) SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING OBArTERS, 4 ut, a rich Hil ty wtifel young wife, eatin ue, Wim tor Gu finds in who b She takes hi to ma, “ie by word that atte ta il, CHAPTER XXI. iS Edgerton passed Gail's room the door opened. “Mra. Orcutt wishes to see you,” announced the nurses, * retiring he entered. Gail was standing, her hands pressed Against the back of an uphclstered ebair. Hey eyes rehed his face with frantic eagerness. She waited for him to speak. Her own lips moved futilely several times before they broke the con: ined silence. “Vance says that you are going Bouth with him and—me.” “Yes. ‘ “Why?” she whispered. “I—promised him before I knew. anyhow, I couldn't leave Vance e's better.” “Then? “Then what?” “Tell me what—you—will—do after he is better.” He smiled, a smile that held no friendliness or mirth. “Isn't there a biblical phrase about not knowing what an hour or a day may bring forth?” She twisted her hands together fe- verisbly. “You must teli me. I can’t stand the suspense. Don't you ace I can't?” “Just what ts it you want me to do, er not to do?” “I want you to be kind, not cruel,” she breathed. “An! the other cheek! Gail, my She waited eight months, every day watching for me, expecting me, crying and moan- ing because I did not come, Bhe was all I had left of my own—— You killed her.” “No—no—no!” “Gail, 1 don't feel chivalrous. Do you feel equal to having Vance's op- eration on Thursday as planned?” “Yes, I want it over. I must have peace of mind or go mad—— Tell me what you intend to do— Tell flow—NOW! I can’t wait, I can’t!” “Victoria waited.” “And died,” she cried in te! voice, Bhe clasped his arms, her white fai upraised. “Will it help her to hurt *me? You can't undo what ts done! You can torture ine, but—will it help?” “It may,” he returned, with grim “Btop!” he commanded. “Endear- nents do not belong between you and Because I love Vance I shall see faim safely through his illness. Little pertner! He's equare and honest and true.” He omiied tn bitter humor as he @aw her face lighten. “Don't count on my love for the toy, Gall, te help you. I may not agree with you as to what ie best for atm.” . “TE me outright!” she pleaded. “T wan't endure your scorn and the aw- ful waiting.” “It te not necessary for me to kill yea to end my scorn and your sus- “You—mean"—— “That you can tell the truth to-day that should have been told the 8th of Yast April. George Orcutt is a mur- @erer and should be given into the she pronounced, deliberately. “1 ghall never do it. I could not invite the shame for my baby.” “Gail, the shame is the same, He fe the father of Vance, free or in prison, And it would be better for Vance to know about his father's gutlty life than that you, his moth @hould live a lie. That lie has a! ready led you to indirect murder.” fo! No! You must not say I murdered your sister, Murder m the premeditated king of a life, wil- ful killing, 1 believed that you were withs:d relatives or friends. I did not ream that there was any one hurt by ‘sour absence. If 1 had known"—— “You took the lino of least resist- ance, That line another time may lead you into—heaven knows what, Gail, for the boy's sake.” “L can't. Ican't! Ever.” “You leave it to me to betray you or to share in your lie!” Her hands fell from his arm under the ehrivelling scorn of his gaze. “On with the play!" said he grim- jy, “All right! My hands are tied. Put on your mask and ring up the curtain on another ac! “You—you-—will—not”— He stopped, ewung on his heel, n- the price of my soul, I “You know I will not. You have known It from the beginning, A man can't tell on @ woman!” ."You know how I love you,” re- turned sho, with a sort of childish de- “I love you! I love you!” “And because you love me you are going to drag me at the wheels of red my Your chariot.” “My chariot? Do you think I am asking this for myself? I gave Vance one father, and now, now, if it is at all give him another. I have no pride where he Is concerred. He shall know you for his fat’ forev: if T can encom. pass it. Yes! He shall have your example and your presence and clean life before him! He shall! He shall!” Hor eyes blazed defiance. She stood there, a quivering bundle of mater- nal fibre. The man did not eompre- hend the furtous instinct that drove her. He tried to reason. ‘Gall, the open course now will be the best in the end for the boy. This le can’t go on forever. And there would be no murder trial now of George Orcutt. He would simply be transferred to an alienist appointed by the 8 " Hts band closed over hers, resting on his arm. “Gall, free me from this position. Let me go now before—*" “What?” “Before we have anything more to regret,” he said gravely. ‘Send for she District-Attorney to-day.” “I can't ever!” It was almost a cream, “I can't!” He gazed into her sick eyes. There ‘was purpose thero, @ fanatical per- sistence. “Do—do—you—hate me?” “It might be better if I did,” he answered, and left the room. CHAPTER XXII, ANCE was operated on the second day following—a | simple ‘throat operation l that would have caused no uneasiness nor occasioned any previous preparation but for the fact that the child’s heart was weak. Without being at all sickly, the lit- tle fellow was delicately organized, his freedom from sickness the natural result of care and right environment. He recovered surprisingly both from the anesthesia and the wound, Nor did he have the usual invalidic irrita- bility of convalescents, He made no demands other than that his papa and mamma should be within reach of his languidly eager eyes. The mother, her heart contracted with maternal fears, sought Edgerton in the library one morning while the child wae asleep. This wi bout a week after his operation. “Have you noticed thht Vance has not been eo well for the past two days?” asked, “Yes.” “And do you know why?” “Yes.” “Then——?" “What?” he returned. “Must I—tell you?” she faltered. His ey crinkled with tender bumor, “I sometimes think I've fallen heir to two children—a little boy and @ very little girl.” “The ittle girl js @ very anxious mother just now,” said she, with a break in her voice. “And @ wom=n that I'm mad with love for—don't forget that!” “I'm asking—it—for Vance." “I know. Vance will grow used to the situation, It will make it easier for him when we part.” “Part? Part? No—no!” He folded bis arms and leaned inst @ bookcase “The very little girl is speaking now. The grownup woman would know that we must part. These months that I thought you my wife let down the barriers between us till"—— He stopped. ‘They'll not go up again? Is that it Her eyes were partly closed as abe questioned, a grave contempla- tion in them. Suddenly they were swimming with tears, She held out ber hands, beseechingly. “No matter what we are to each other, to Vance we're his father and mother. Our coldness is breaking hie heart, and I can't bear for bim to be unhappy now. I don't care about any- thing else—I just want him to get well and strong. Ob, you don’t know!" “I know that for us to caress each other daily is to play with edged tools, my—wife that can't be,” he sald gently. A knock sounded at the door, the discreet rap of a servant. “Vance wants wu cried she. With awift motion she drew his faee to hers. Then she kissed him on the lips, speeding from the room to Vance's bedside, The invalid was propped against the pillows, a faint color beginning to show in his pale cheeks. The long lashes lifted and the eyes opened wide and gleaming as they fell on the ra- diantly girlish face that bent over bim. “Something’s happened; good," he piped joyously, mamma, tell me.” something “Tell me, “Greedy!” she answered gayly. “Can't mamma and papa have any se- crets at all!” “Secrets?” His voice fell wearily. “I wish there weren't any secrets ever. Th secrets; I hate ‘em—hate—em —hate 'em!" He addressed Edgerton as he crossed the threshold. “Please tell me what beautiful thing’s hap- pened, Tell me, please, dear papa.” ‘The mother answered: “Insatiable boy! Must mamma and papa tell you every time they kiss each other?” “Oh!” The child sat upright, his eyes like diamonds in brightness. “You and papa kissed each other! Sure? Sure?” Tho mother’s laugh rang out biithe- ly, @ gladsome lilt that told nothing of restrained tears. “Listen to that! Our son thinks he is the only one that is ever kissed. What a state of affairs!" ‘The obild's gaze travelled to and fro from the woman's face to the man's. “Partner,” came quietly, “what you really want to know is whether or not your father and mother love each other, isn’t It? Listen, little mate, and don't ever forget: I love your mother better than all the world, even my boy; and your mother loves me —next best to you, I think.” “But,” protested the boy excitedly: “she must love you best, Wives do, you know.” “You eee what it means to him,” eald Gail. “All right, partner,” said Edgerton, seating himself on the bed and taking the boy's hand in his, “We'll put you down a close second, But you must let mamma and me love each other in our own way, You musn’t worry be- cause we don't act Just as you think husbands and wives should.” There was gentle raillery in the voice, whimsicality in the eyes. The child flushed a little in embar- raasment over his ignorance of adult ways, then giggled softly his excuses: “But you do act funny, don't you?” “Not for us, partner, I don't be- lieve there were ever another papa and mamma just like us. So you see, you mustn't measure us by ordinary standards.” “1 won't again,” avowed the child, delighted over this confidence be- tween man and man. Like a big brown hen with a dozen lttle chicks equatting near was Ever- giade Villa, the Lormes’ southern home. It comprised a big bungalow and a group of emalier buildings de- voted to servants’ quarters and com- missariat, much in the manner of an old plantation. Gall, on the floor of the piazza, knees held loosely be- tween clasped hands, upraised & laughing face to Mra, Lorme's, “Why don't you relieve your inner consciousness, Kate, dear? Why not ask me outrifsht the questions that are furrowing your brow?" she teased, Mra. Lorme's shrowd eyes fastened on the radiant face, the almost too radiant face, she could not help but feel, The unrestrained happiness that Gall had evinced during the past two weeks aroused her guapicions, The whole thing was puzzling, She had left her in New York five weeks before in open revolt against her husband, alleging that it was impos- sible that he and she could make the trip South together—and tragically unhappy. And lo! they had come virtually hand in hand, Gail as riotously gay an she had before been miserable. And she was unashamedly in love with George, who—and this waa the heart of the puzzie—was now an nig- gardly about showing his affection as Gail was lavish, Yet Gail's light- heartednes emed too real for act- And Vance was blissful—a sure rometer that he believed all was well between his idolized parents; and Vance was not easy ‘to deceive as to that. “What is it, Kate? Come, let's have it now and be through. Mrs. Lorme hesitated, then asked bluntly: “Why is George so cold now that you are—uh"—— “Idiotically in love with him? The why I can't tell, But {t's all right. He loves me, and I—oh, Kate! I'm mad with my love for him, quite, quite mad.” Again Mrs. Lorme looked at her closely, trying to penetrate through the mystery that she could not but feel hovered near, an indefinable, in- tangible, but very real menace. Why should a wife talk about her love for her husband as madness, and in the tone Gail used? “There's something wrong,” she Pronounced. “Why does George look so anxious if all is as it should be? There's a look in hie eyes at times when they rest on you as though hie heart Imost too heavy for him to Gail Inughed gayly, but the keen eyes watching saw slight shiver shake her. “Kate, it's all right. It is; it Is! He loves me and I love him, and nothing else counts, Nothing! Nothing!" “That's crazy talk,” said Mrs. Lorme, not because she particularly believed what she satd, but to give vent to her perturbed feelings. “Well, I'm crazy, crazy with joy. He loves me and he’s with me. I can see him each day and look into his eyes and read his love there. Words? Words make no difference to him and me! He ts mine, all mine! A miracle gave him to me, and no one, No one ever, shall take him away.” The elder woman's face softened, grew very tender, She remembered the years of neglect and loneliness through which the young wife had passed, torturing years wh. her husband had been any one's but hera, George had been a tremendous villain notwithstanding his present maniiness and charm, She leaned over and kissed the girl's cheek. “I keep forgetting what a wastrel George was and how strange it must geem to you to have him decent. You deserve your happiness in your own way.” “My happiness in my own way,” re- peated Gall. “It is my due for all that I have suffered, surely, surely it is, Kate! But he has never been any- thing but good and honorable. I can't let you say it even—even”—— Mrs, Lorme laughed indulgently, “Two George Orcutts in one make it rather puzzling, Gail. But 'm glad you can feel that way about it, He— Ahi" ‘The man under discussion had sud- denly appeared. Mra, Lorme aw their glances meet—a youth's and a ATTLE Hach Wek Te Ere Wor . July By maid's, or #0 it seemed, #0 shy, sosoinetime, © * © You are his father adoring, eo virginally glad! Swiftly she moved away, embarrassed strangely by what she had witnessed. Yet she did not go so quickly but that she saw the man’e love go under cover, a calmly courteous gaze replace the 8’ impassioned tenderness, She smiled maternally. They were but two children, making a mystery of their passion to add to its glamour. he laughed to think that she had taken them so seriously. Edgerton had neither been aware of Mrs. Lorme's presence, nor its kindly femoval; all his attention was fixed on the girlish face smiling so de- lightedly upon bim. “Will you walk down to the beach?” he asked. “You had better take @ wrap; the air is cold near the water.” “I like the cold air. “I shall get you a wr Your dress is thin; we may be some time—I want to talk to you at length.” She flashed a mirthful glance at him as he returned with a big auto- mobtle coat. “Why not a buffalo robe and foot- warmers?” she cried, springing lightly to her feet and giving # quick shake to her lingerie frock. “Perhaps you'll wish I bad,” re- turned he, with forced humor. Her answering laugh was wholly carefree. Had she not seen the reve- lation of his eyes? What was there to fear while he could not come upon her unexpectedly without his eyes betraying bim to the world? There was @ song in her heart. She walked lightly beside him, chattering in blithe indifference to his constrained demeanor. There w rosy slow over her of bappiness and sheer joy in living. From the villa a slight natural rise of earth and stubby vegetation ran horizontally to the edge of the sea, ending in a declivity with cozy back- rests along the shore. To the house- hold “the beach” meant this shel- tered spot. Thither Edgerton bent his steps, almom in allence till they were seated, Even then gazed a little while at the foam-crested breakers. Abruptly he turned. “I am leaving to-morrow, And for geod.” There was a short pause while she gazed at him in a dazed questioning. “You are leaving Everglades—the South?" “You,” he sald simply. She caught her breath. Gall. “why?” “You know why.” “But 1 dont. You and I'—— “OQ, we love eaco other,” sald he roughly. “Where are—you—golng?” “To Underwood's for a few weeks, then atroad, 1 think, The doctor bas been placning @ vacation for some time, and he'll go with me, there or somewhere. “You think you'll—forget me?” “No, 1 don't think anything #0 tdai- otic, I shall think of you and love you till time without end, But with @ thousand miles between us I shan't be constantly beset to take you in my arms, Here the temptation Is be- yond my resistance, now”—— “That you know I want to be she whispered quickly, Then: “Have you thought about me—about my loneliness?” “Yes, but there's no way round it.” “There—is—a—way"— He gripped bis hands till the mus- cles stood out. “That's the hellish part of it.” “But Keith" “There is no ‘but,’ Gall. None!” He flung out the words with the sav- agery of despair. “To serve you I can take George Orcutt’s name and child, but I can't take his wife.” She caught bis arm witb both hands. “But you must if she insiste on coming to you. And I do inalst,” she sobbed.'"*¥ou do not belong to any one else, You are Vance's and mine. I have been preparing myself for this, It !s not easy—even though it is you. But—but—to be separated half the time from Vance’—— “Rob you of the boy! I? What are you talking about? Vance is not my son—now.” “But you're his father. Don’t you see! And he would go to you of him- if, © © © He wants his father and mother united—he talks it till I feel I shall scream out in madness When difficult ani matter. Treading for six cents a week. by the foremost living authors. Bear this in mh Are You Going Away for the Summer? out of town for the summer you may ff sty to provide yourself with the righ poi Why send to the city for novels at $1.25 or them at a fancy price in some country store? You can supply yourself with the best, most delightful summer By subncribing to The Evening World for the summer months you secure a complete novel each week. Not some old book a country dealer has not been able to sell, birt the finest up-to-date fiction }, not only for yourself but for of friends who expect to spend the aan in the country, gl a ht sort of reading $1.50 each or buy A NEW YORK MYSTERY NEXT WEEK’S COMPLETE NOVEL == IN THE EVENING WORLD STORY; O F SRKIUGGLERS, DICTOGRAPHS, THE BLUE BUCKLE By WILLIAM HAMILTON OSBORNE —in all that means @ father. © * © We would not wrong any one In doing this for him. © © © George wanted me to have my liberty that day—he spoke of—this, And—and even if it's wrong, I am willing to pay—— Can't you bev Sho was openly pleading. She felt that she had put him in a position where he could not ask for her favor. And in @ position where she owed him herself. She had reasoned it out dur- ing the days by Vance's bedside after the operation and in the weeks since coming here. Wholly outside of her desire for his presence was his claim upon her own. She had forced George Orcutt’s name and responsibilities upon him. He was not free to marry.* He would never be. The only wife he could hope for was herself. And ehe must not only give him a satisfying home and family life, but give it readily. Dr. Underwood was the only one who knew their secret. And he would keop it always, for Keith's sake, George Orcutt was now a hopeless paretio. He could not betray himself nor her. Keith had no near relatives; nor had she, There was only Vance— and this would mean bis bappiness now and for all his life. She should have no fear of his future with Keith Edgerton to bring him up. Edgerton looked full at her. “You say you are willing to pay. But just how much are you willing to pay? Are you willing that our chil- dren should be"—— His arm shook under the spasmodic trembling of her hands. “Our—ohildren!" “Yes; our children, yours and mine. Have you thought of our children, Gaur . “Yon,” sho answered in @ dead voice, “I thought of them, but"”—— “Joyfully,” he completed. “I know. And you have seen nothing but holl- ness in our union. You have started on the premises that Vance must be saved from knowing his father’s full guilt. I wish that Vance might be kept in ignorance of his father’s life always, And I want you, till I am willing to embrace damnation to get you. If it were just myself there ‘would be no question of what I should pay. Honor and right are meaning- less, except relatively. But our obil- dren would unlawfully share Vance's material inheritance. And while thinking themselves of honest par- entage, would be legally bastards.” “Keithi” “The truth im't always pretty,” returned he, “We're so young—and to be sep- arated till—death—takes—him—and it never will!” she sobbed wildly. “No; there's little hope there.” “Where is there—bope, KeithT” abe sobbed. “Nowhere for us, dear,” said he gently. Bhe shook the tears from her lashes and looked at him in a wondering way. Deliberately he was going to leave her—and with no hope of their reunion! She might accept this, But to invite thelr separation! To con- summate it upon his own Initiative! How could he if—— She voiced her thought: “Do you—love me?” Edgerton turned bloodshot eyes upon her. “Love you! leaving you!” His voice was harsh, the harsh- ness of @ man in dire pain, He caught her by the shoulders, “You are going to try to beat down my resistance, And you will do this in all purity. You think you have @ reason that can delfy him. You haven't used the word sin. You've called it ‘compensation,’ ‘reparation,’ ‘Justice,’ ‘our right.’ I don't question your goodness and moral rectitude. No! But your logic's wrong, It's not by chance that we say ‘up to heaven’ and ‘down to hell,’ {t's ascent or de. woent, We don’t atand still. We go. His hands left her shoulders and came to her cheeks. He held them and gazed earnestly at the tearful face, “I want you eo much that I'm al- most willing to love you in the wi that’s open to us, If you weren't de. ceived as to where we should be go- ing I fear I might.” “How am I deceived? “You think we should be ascending. You want to keep me eo as to give Vance @ worthy father. But a man who lives under another man's name— with another man's wife—passing off both to the world as his own!—bis ti- legitimate children parading under the name of the man he feloniously succeeded—— In this the sort of man you want to bring up your son?” “Don't! Don't! You—you—are— not"—- “Not as vile as that— No! Not tn cold blood, Not while T can think and reason. © © * But with you near me every day—and some day my arms holding you despite myself! My God! Don't you see!" His voice grew desperate. "Gall, give me my freedom! Let me have my own name and go away where I shan't be on this dangerous Love youl Am I not GAINST Maravene footing with you. For your own sake! For the boy’s!—before we all go under together! She zed at him in a stupor of pain. And she saw but one thing—the utter bareness of the future without him. To Ga’ this moment, it was not @ choice between this good and that good; It was @ choice between life and annihilation. It was no use to talk about what might be somo day and to presage disaster for to- morrow—when the alternative was death to-day! Nothing could be as havocing as to lose him. Morality and immorality held no meaning. Till his coming she had not realized the pov- erty of her life. She had not known that she was almost blind to the richness of the universe. She had been starving in a land of exquisite plenty. And just now life had be- gun to open to her its ravishmenta. And the door was to close! It wi not only the woman who wanted a man's arms to shield her; it was a stunted spirit demanding growth. To the drowning there is no question of whether or not the rescuer will be micked under; there is only a grim holding on. To give Keith Edgerton his name @id not mean to her now the reopen- ing of the Orcutt-EPmmet murder case; nor scandal; nor shame; nor branding Vance with his father's gullt. It meant that Keith Edgerton would go out of her life, It meant emptiness. It meant desolation for- can’t do ft,” she uttered in @ tone of deadly calm. “I never can. You are mine and Vance’s. You belong to us. . « » Iehall not give you up— ever. . « . If you should go"— “Lam going,” said he. “I shall re- main George Orcutt till you release me. I shall never ask you again for my name. When you are ready"— “——I never shall be"—— “—You can give it to me. I shall visit with Vance to-night and go early in the morning. . . . This is our goodby.” He looked at her steadily, his face wet with unashamed tears. “Nol” He caught her outstretched hands and put them from him. “I haven't the strength to kiss you." He rose, “Walt here; I'll send Vance to you.” She watched him walk up the path. Her eyes held a frosen look. He had bad the strength not to kiss her, CHAPTER XX. ‘WANT papa.” Vance said it etubborniy. He lay in bed, a tray of un- tasted food beside him. It ~ five days after Edgerton “I think I heard papa tell you to be food to mamma,” said his mother. “To make yourself ill and cause me @o much worry—this isn’t obeying papa.” “I don’t care, I didn't know he was moing when I promised that. You knew. And you let him go.” The child was bitter. He felt de- ceived, outraged. He had had a won- derful evening with his father and had been allowed to sit up an hour past hie usual bedtime, He had gone to bed feeling very big and maniy. And the next morning he found that his father had gone away without let- ting him know. It was another mys- tery, and he was tired of mysteries. Ho cried bimeelf into a fever. The following morning he 4id not get up. His mother found him with hot, tear- stained face hid againet his plilow. He refused to be coaxed or shamed into eubmission, “T want papa,” was his cry, A doctor bad been called. Vance shut bis Hpe against the medicine Prescribed and spat out the dose forced between his teeth. Nor would he eat, He did not know the strategio value of @ hunger strike; he refused food because they wanted him to eat, and he was not going to do anything that any one wanted him to. It was complete rebellion. In the doctor’s opinion it was a case of @ “spoilt child.” He emiled sceptically at the mother’s explana- tion that Vance had never been so disobedient before, But Mrs. Lorme, whom he knew well, convinced him that the boy's behavior was really unusual, The doctor began to look serious. The child's heart was weak, and he had not wholly recovered the strength apent in his recent fliness, He told the mother to send for the father. “I cannot,” she answered. Vance had heard, He looked at ber now with deflant i “IT want papa.” His voice rose shrilly. “You won't tell me why you do things. You just do ‘em, Why won't you #end for papa?” “Because papa wouldn't want to come,” she uttered, her face ve y white. asked him to stay with us. T want him, too, But——I'm not cry- ing, dear, See? And you must be brave, You're my man now.” “I'm not a man,” he sobbed angrily. “I'm a little boy, I don't want to be brave, Why did papa go without say- ing Roodby to me?” AN-MADE RULES” mpson “He wanted to carry away @ pte turo of a happy, smiling boy,” bis mother answered truthfully. “The story he told you about Capt, Im. trepid—that was you, dear, He ex. plained that ‘intrepid’ means”*— Vance put his fingers to bis ears and screamed. Intrepid meant all the things that Vance had no intention of being just then, He was young savage, He wanted his father and was using hia only known method of attack to get him, Tho doctor came again and felt the child's pulse, and frowned, and took the mother outside the room for com- sultation Dr. Unwin will telegraph for papa,” she announced, “Oh! oh! oh! “Perhaps papa and Dr, Underwoed would take you with them—— A sea trip would be beneficial"—— Her voles broke over a sob. “How—how would this do? ‘The boy's head pressed a little closer to the soft shoulder, He ‘drew in a long breath, luxuriating in the beaw- tiful fragrance that pervaded hie mamma, “But then I should want you.” “My baby! My ba"—— She stopped. She had promised not to call him baby again. “Forgive mamma.” Hia lashes lowered. “I don't mind—now. Im Itke it when you and I are alone. Please, mamma,” he whispered, “I want papa and you, Oughtn’t—oughtn't a father to stay with his boy?” She walked to the piassa that opened off Vance's chamber, She thought of George Orcutt, now sense- less, now paying the penalty of his sins, but never from the first day @ true father, He had celebrated the ehild vent with a crowd of roy- stering Companions and bad been car- ried past her door at daybreak in a drunken sleep. Vance was worse than fatherless, then and now, as far as George Orcutt was concerned. And the other man—— Bhe beat her knuckles together and uttered @ poignant “Ob!” Bhe had been doing this for five days. It hung over her—a black, harrowing memory, corroding, consuming. She had offered him hereelf!—and the offering had been refused! Hereelf!—the which she had valued beyond everything but the child she had borne, and which she had guard-~ ed against all the years’ besiege- ments, A neglected wife, young and incomparably lovety, with an ia- finitude of charm—there had always been some one ready to console her, Every other man she met seemed to be of a mind—that she was neces- sary to his happiness and worth every cost she might bring him. In her first bitterness against her husband there had been moments of reckless- ness whon she was almost ready to fill his place with another. Her baby had saved her. She had fied to Bim and nestled him to her, knowing that she must keep faith with him, ven her prea- rourt's Her aloofness had ba ane u bbe Only—was she good’ Bhe aaked herself now. And she could that her maternity placed . Yes; but—he did sot seem to think #0, “Mamma,” called Vance, fearfully, “please come in and tell me why you eay ‘oh!’ all the time. Do you Burt anywhere? Or are you—efraid of something?” She came and sat beside him, es eolidls y in need of sympathy as imaelf. “I am trying to find out something about myself,” she explained, pa- tently. “I have been in the shadows so long tha’ high light of noosa blinds me.’ “The high Nght of noon? Wher it etri! welve, mamma?" She did not answer, She was look- ing past him with discovery in her ey: ‘The high light of noon—it was this light that beat from Keith Bd- gerton—penetrative, insistent, purgin; And—pitiless, But because its rays were direct; fell away and only the bald of a thing lay revealed. And when she herself should be stripped before her own eyes— What should she find? It was a ques- tion only as yet. She was uncertain, fumblingly trying to penetrate be- yond her actions to her motives She looked at her boy, and a queer, shiv- ering feeling came upon her, Was she serving him the best that she could? She put her hands out gropingly. “What's the matter, mamma? Can't you You act so funny, Please, darling mamma, don't look like that!” She lay down beside him, © wet cheek to his. “Mamma is trying to see into your future," she sobbed, and it was the uncertain ery of a girl, a very lonely girl. “She wants to give you the best future she can And she doesn’t know what that—should—be—- Sup- Posing that you and mamma shot not have papa again—ever”—~ “But we will—we will!" Vanoste voice was frantic, “We've got to have papa! You can make him stay with us—this spirit of papa.” “I'm not sure T can make him, dear,” she whispered. “And I'm not—sure that—I should—even for you, But-- oh, my baby! It is so black without him!" (To Be Continued.) JEWELS, PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS This Book on the Stands Will Cost You $1.25 You Get It for 6 Cents pp