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14
INTO MAmiOUS LIGHT
SYNOPSIS.
Julian Deveaux, a New York actor of bad personal
character, goes South for rest and recreation, leav
ing in New York a young preacher, John Marsden,
who has become his friend. During the Southern
trip Deveaux meets a family at Monteagle, Tenn.,
and becomes interested in the young daughter, Chris
tiana. The father, John Douglas, is much attracted
to the young actor, but the aunt, Mrs. Wayland,
distrusts him, while the girl, Christiana, is too in
experienced to feel any special interest in Deveaux
apart from his skill in teaching her to paint.
Deveaux confesses his love to Mr. Douglas, and
attempts to win the girl with her father’s reluc
tant permission. His progress, however, is so slight
as almost to discourage him.
A sudden accident, however, which resulted in
the death of Mr. Douglas, resulted in the consent
of Christiana to the marriage with Deveaux and
during the wedding trip in Paris the girl gets her
first intimation of Deveaux’s life and character.
(Continued from last week.)
CHAPTER XII.
In the dining room of a hotel in Constanti
nople, Mr. and Mrs. Julian Deveaux were
having dinner. He had been very gay and entertain
ing; he was so delighted over his wife’s evident
pleasure in their voyage across the Mediterranean.
After the lapse of a few minutes she noticed that
his face suddenly clouded. The remainder of the
courses brought in he barely touched, save the wine,
and of that he took glass after glass, until his
face was flushed and his eyes had an expression she
had never before seen. She was opposed to the
drinking, but she had become accustomed to it dur
ing their stay abroad, and sip by sip, she became
very fond of it. He liked to see her bright and wit
ty, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. So he
urged upon her all he dared.
This evening she became so alarmed at his un
usual actions her smiles changed to tremulous lips
as she began to remonstrate with him.
4 ‘Never interfere with anything I wish to do,
Christiana. I am of age. I am your husband, whom
you promised to love, honor and obey, if you please.
I cannot permit you to dictate to me.”
Christiana fell back in her chair with a little
gasp, while her eyes filled with tears.
“Christiana, of all things in the world that irri
tate me most, it is to see a woman in tears. I feel
like rushing’ away until she has grown from infancy
to womanhood. I much prefer you to strike me than
to cry. Show yourself a woman and not a baby.”
Christiana’s tears quickly dried, but her bosom
rose and fell like the waves of an angry ocean.
Instantly she left the table, went to her room,
entered and locked the door. She threw herself upon
her bed and wept until she fell asleep from ex
haustion. She had scarcely left the dining room
when a heavily-veiled woman took the vacated
chair by Julian Deveaux.
“And so, Julian, you ran from me a second time,
did you? But, you see, I have a good eye. I did
not lose sight of you for an hour. You might as
well decide at once to treat me right, and not
cause us both so much annoyance.”
“Curse you!” he exclaimed under his breath.
“Dare you make another public scene. Go to your
room at once, and I shall follow when I can do so
unobserved. Give me your number.”
She obeyed, and shortly he joined her. When he
entered the room he locked and bolted the door.
She knew something of the demon in the man, and
wps prepared for the violent scene that followed.
When Mie had goaded him to the point of murder,
she s’ Menly disappeared through a secret door. He
knew > would be useless to attemnt to follow her.
His fury had sobered him somewhat.
‘' T The Golden Age for April 12, 1906.
By LLEWELYN STEPHENS.
He left the hotel and went for a walk. By twelve
o’clock he was his normal self, penitent and re
morseful for his harsh words to his wife. Returning
to their apartment he was surprised to find the door
bolted within. He knocked several times, before
his wife aroused. When he was admitted, and stood
before her he was alarmed at the expression of
mistrust and fear upon her face.
“Annie,” he said, placing his arms about her,
“I have often told you that I was very imperfect,
and to be prepared for many faults which would un
doubtedly spring into view under certain provoca
tions.”
“What were the provocations?”
“I drank too much wine.”
“ Why did you ?’ ’
He gave his shoulders a shrug. “Why does any
one ever drink too much? Why did you drink too
much one evening?”
“That reminder is very cruel of you,” she re
plied, trying to withdraw herself from him. “You
know you forced it upon me.”
“Yes, I remember quite well that Eve said, ‘The
serpent beguiled me and I did eat.’ ”
“But you cannot say of me, ‘The woman whom
thou gavest to be with me, she gave me the wine
and I did drink.”
“No, dearest, I cannot. But, in all seriousness. I
am deeply ashamed. Won’t you forgive me, Annie?”
“Yes, Julian. Life, though, will never seem quite
the same to me.”
“I have been trying to prepare you, dearest,
haven’t I?”
“Yes, but I was expecting imperfections in others,
not you. Until Mio died, I always thought perhaps
there was sin and sorrow somewhere, but so far
off. it would never reach me.”
“Dearest, do not think for one moment, that this
little occurrence to-night was anything so serious
that yon should be really unhappy over it. Just
wait until you know something of other men, then
yon will realize what a trifle this incident was.”
“I do not wish to know other men.”
“But you know that, as my wife, you will be
thrown with them a great deal.”
“Only very distantly, I hope. There is only one
man in New York whom I have the slightest desire
to know well.”
“And, pray, whom may that be?” he inquired,
while a curious little sensation began tugging at
his heart.
“Your friend, the young minister, -who married
us. John Marsden, is his name. I think.”
“Yes,” he said, with a rising inflection and
something of a drawl. “And what makes you
think you shall like John Marsden?”
“I do not know. I had not noticed him until he
sang ‘Nearer my God to Thee.’ I think his the
most sympathetic voice I over heard. I am so glad
he is one of your best friends, and I hope you will
invite him to call on us just as soon as we return
to New York. I am sure he is not one of those
wicked men you say I shall have to know.”
“No, John Marsden is quite a splendid boy. I
often tell him he made a mistake in not selecting a
more decent, profession.”
“What do you mean, Julian?”
“He always will he poor: never can make any
thing of himself. He nossesses oratorical powers
that are positively fascinating. I went to hear him
preach several times, just because I so enjoyed his
enthusiasm and faith in himself. He is an awfully
good fellow, don’t you know, just because he’s
never had the right temptation to make him other
wise.”
“Julian, von me.* Do von think a conse
nted minister of God would deliberately do any
th ino- wrong?”
“Yes. my dear; fhev think themselves saints
’’yon ear+h. and deceive themselves, as well as other
people. They are the greatest hypocrites o" —th.”
“Julian, you shall not talk that way to me. What
is coming over you? Why do you wish me to think
the whole world so utterly bad?”
“Just because it is, dear, and I am sure I have
been revealing the fact to you by degrees, so that
you might not have too sudden shocks. When we get
back to New York, I wish you to be quite up-to-date,
thoroughly conversant with all the ways gnd wick
edness of the world. After you are introduced into
society, it would embarrass me very much to hear
any of my friends saying, ‘Well, what an unsophis
ticated child Deveaux married. She believes every
thing she hears, she swallows all the fairy tales
I tell her,’ and so on. So I must prepare you. When
some New York fellow professes to be madly in
love with you, don’t appear surprised, shocked or
angry in the least, but just let him make a fool
of himself, then very coolly laugh at him, and say
something to the effect that he has made a very
nice little speech, or that he has some talent for
acting and that you really think he might make
something of a success upon the stage, but that he
was an absolute failure in winning your heart.
Then he may become very tragic, and may accuse
you of being heartless, of having trifled with his
affections, and so on, and may go so far even as to
say that nothing but a suicide’s grave can bury his
grief. But you may be assured he will do nothing
at all out of the ordinary, but will tell all his men
friends that you are the most fascinating woman
he ever met. However, he would not attempt any
more love to you. Nothing effects a more speedy
cure than ridicule.”
“And you wish your wife to permit men to talk
to her of being in love with her?”
“My wishes in the matter would amount to little,
my dear, for they all do it. My uppermost desire
regarding my wife is to have her become the most
beautiful and attractive woman in New York.”
“That sounds incredible to me, Julian.”
“What could possibly give me more pleasure?”
“I thought you wished me above all else to suc
ceed as an artist.”
“You can be an artist and still be a social suc
cess, can you not?”
“I do not know. I hardly know whether I longer
have any opinions of my own. The whole world
seems to be turning upside down. Not another
word tonight, Julian. I wonder what darling father
would think of the way you are educating me. Why
did be not tell me all about the wickedness of the
worl d ? ”
“Because there was no necessity for your know
ing anything about it, so long as you were shut up
in a Garden of Eden, with no serpent in it. I am
sure, if he looks down upon us from the spirit world
now, he is very happy to know that you have a pro
tector who loves you as well as he did, and who
knows so well how to warn you against the wicked
ness of the world and protect you from it.”
CHAPTER XIII.
The next morning when Julian Deveaux and his
wife were at breakfast Ariane Bouvier sat at a
table just opposite them. She stared at him in
such a manner as soon to attract Christiana’s atten
tion. hen they left the dinning room, she asked.
Julian, who was that woman who kept looking at
you so? Her face is familiar, yet I cannot recall
ever having seen her.”
Perhaps she is envious of your beauty. I am
quite sure that is the reason she gazed at yon so.”
“You were the attraction. She hardly looked at
me. ’ ’
“So my little wife hasn’t raven tresses and flash
ing brown eyes for naught. She has quite a storm
of jealousy smouldering within her.”
Christiana was pacified for the time. However
the strange woman became their shadow, wherever
they went, sometimes passing so near as almost to
touch them. Christiana still had the utmost confi
dence in her husband, but she shrank in fear and