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INTO MARVELOUS LIQHT (Continued from last week.) CHAPTER XXI. ‘0 thou invincible spirit of wine! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.” —Shakespeare. All the evil passions in Julian Deveaux had been aroused. Before the supper was ended, one desire mastered him to rid himself of Horace Bradmore. He slipped away from the party wondering, in his half crazed and intoxicated condition, from whom he could secure a pistol. He knew of a gambling house not far away, where he could find acquaint ances who always went armed. Entering he found a number of those with whom he had associated in his most dissipated days. They hailed him with delight, as they saw his condition. They took him by the hand, slapped him on the shoulder, and pushed him into a chair by one of the gaming tables. He tried to explain that he did not have time to sit down, that he was in a great hurry, and had come only to get a pistol with which to shoot a dog that had run up against him. One of the men gave the others a wink, and locked the door. 41 Hold on Deveaux, old man. Haste makes waste. You have given us the 44 G. B.” so long, you must take one social glass, for the sake of 4 auld lang syne’ and help me out on this game, don’t you know, or I shall be completely swamped.” 11 Yes, yes,” another called out, 1 ‘Deveaux brings back the good old times. Let’s give three cheers and a song, and drink to his health and happiness.” I ‘Hurrah! Hurrah!” rang out from a chorus of voices, mingled with coarse jests about the woes of a married man. Deveaux drained his glass, then took up the cards. 1 i Here goes, boys, what stakes are up?” II Five hundred dollars,” one answered. 41 Yes,” added another, 11 We ’ll start on that. Who’ll cover it?” 44 N0, such child’s play,” interrupted Deveaux. 44 Make it a thousand.” There were numerous winks and grunts of satis faction in response. In less than an hour Julian Deveaux was wholly intoxicated, and was lying on the floor in a stupor. He had squandered five thousand dollars. When Christiana reached her room, she shed no tears. She was like a young tigress at bay. Where was the husband who had torn her from an inno cent home and placed her in a veritable hell, then in a mad hour had deserted and left her to the mercy of a devil? Was it all a preconceived plot to test her faithfulness? And had she blindly stepped into the trap? All this was torturing her fevered brain, when a servant rushed in exclaiming, 44 Mr. Deveaux has been murdered, and some men are bringing him in. Where shall they carry him?” She did not scream nor faint. She threw her hands over her heart, which seemed to have stopped beating. Her hand fell upon the crimson roses, still fastened there, and which she had forgotten until now, so withered and dead and beautiless they were. She snatched them from her, and threw them upon the floor, where they fell upon the white ones that were still lying where she had scat tered them the evening before. The contrasting white and red caught her eye, and for a moment, she gazed as if spellbound. Again they seemed to be spirits speaking to her, holding up before her a once spotless life, but now with the crimson blood of evil passions and revenge blurring it. Could it have been only yesterday? Surely she had lived an eternity. She threw up her hands, exclaim ing, 4 4 Mio, darling father* come back to your heart broken child. Come back, come back, lest I be crazed with suffering. 0 mio, I cannot, cannot bear it.” The Golden Age for May 17, 1906. By LLEWELYN STEPHENS The sound of heavy feet caused her to rush from her room into the hall. Four men were bringing Mr. Deveaux up. She thought him dead, and that she had been the cause. She fell back against the wall, unable to move further or utter a sound. One of the men said, 44 Don’t be alarmed, lady. He’ll pull through all right. ” 44 1 s he dead?” she gasped. 44 0 h no, ma’am. He’s in a right bad way, but he’ll pull through, I’m sure, so don’t be fright ened.” A physician was immediately summoned, and when he arrived, he found two patients, both very ill. Christiana had had a complete nervous col lapse. As soon as Mr. Deveaux began to revive, he so repeatedly called for John Marsden, Mrs. Way land sent for him, and he came at once. He found Mr. Deveaux still delirious. 44 John, you see I am dying. I had no idea it would come so soon. Christiana died last night, you know, so of course I can’t live any longer. And to think that I killed her. Does any one suspect that I killed her, John? You see I had to do it, to save her. Horace Bradmore took her from me. I tried to kill him. too, but he escaped me. When I am gone, John, have the dog hunted down, and see that he is shot through the heart—hearts—hearts— hearts—yes these hearts of ours—that’s where it hurts, John. Isabelle Conrad tries to make me think she has a heart. Ha! Ha! And she thinks I am sorry I did not marry her—ha! ha! ha! What a world this is. Hearts—hearts—hearts. Look on the walls and ceilings, John, at the hearts— hearts everywhere! They are all dripping with blood, too. Oh,” he shrieked, 44 the blood is dripping all over me. Cover me up, John, cover me up quickly. See, see, on the floor, the blood is flowing like a river! Let me out of the room at once, or I shall be drowned in the blood!” He sprang up, then fell back from exhaustion. CHAPTER XXII. When Julian Deveaux came to himself his o’m desire was to secure a reconciliation with his wife. His mind fell upon John Marsden as the mediator. He dispatched a note asking him to come at once. He then inquired for Christiana, begging that she come to him, not knowing that she had been pros trated and was still unable to leave her bed. When he learned of this, he insisted on going to her, de srite the remonstrances of his nurse. In an al most fainting condition he reached her bedside, and fell on his knees by her, imploring her forgiveness. Tn her face he saw no anger, no love, no passion of any kind, only submissive indifference. He realized that he had lost her. Into his eyes came the look to be seen in those of a man who knows he has been wounded unto death. He buried his face in his hands. Then his eyes filled with tears. Passion ately he exclaimed, 44 1 wish I had Tlied, no matter what other form of existence, what other hell I might have entered. It could have'been no worse than this. It’s all my fault I know. I had onlv' one thing for which I cared to live, and that I wil fully crushed. Annie, Annie, do you not at least pity me?” 44 0 Julian, why did you do it? I cannot under stand it all! I cannot understand it all! Why must life be darkened by so much suffering?” He stroked her hair and caressed her with his trembling hands. 44 P00r little girl. That why is one of the great unanswered questions of life. We are all like dumb driven cattle, beaten wb 1 ’ many stripes; or if for a moment we imagine our selves as resting upon the secure plain of peace and happiness, we awake to find that we had been de ceived into abiding upon pastures green, that we might be prepared for the slaughter, as is the fatted calf. When the butcher’s knife sinks into the strong heart it struggles and surges against the slayer’s hand much more desperately than does the weak one, with but a faint hold upon life.. So, poor little girl, for seventeen years you wandered in pastures green, you slept and dreamed that life was 4 beauty, ’ you awoke and found that life was— what, my darling?” 44 My whole being is experiencing such anguish, I only know that would to God I could tear my heart from my own bosom. I am unable to talk about it all now. You must let your nurse assist you back to your room, for you look very ill.” When John came, Mr. Deveaux at once broached the subject uppermost in his thoughts. 44 John, I have sent for you again to ask your help. I want to make peace with Annie. That I should have forfeited her love and respect is what hurts. I wish you to help me convince her that it is not all so bad as it seems to her, that it was not my real self that did all this, that I do love her with all my soul, and that I am ready to make any amends she wish es. Help her to see that all men have faults of some kind. Taking me all in all, for the year we have been married, I hardly think she could have found a man in all the world who would have lav ished upon her more affection, more tender care, more thoughtfulness for her every wish. She lacks tor nothing that love or money can buy. Show her John, that in return for all this, she should forgive and forget a few days in which the devil had pos session of me. If you had ever realized what it was to love a woman and trust that she loved you, then saw her look at you with scorn, —yes worse— with passionless indifference, then you would feel for me a little, John.” John could not speak. Every fiber in his being quivered from the inward struggle. His was a suf fering that could be poured into no human ear. He hastily arose. 44 Julian, I must think before I answer you. I do not feel quite well this morning. The close room seems to suffocate me. I must get out and take a few breaths of fresh air. When I feel bet ter I shall return and talk with you.” He hastened out into the hall, but soon returned, determined to act-the friend that self-sacrifice de manded. 44 1 have been thinking over the circumstances that surround your request, Julian, and I promise to do all in my power for you and for her.’ 44 1 knew you would not fail me, John.” (Continued Next Week.) Commercial Brains fl Vi v- LJ H measure every typewriter VI I——v'-d ■ —quality tor quality—attri- tT tX I V ■ bute lor attribute—by the pl mJ 1 'w Underwood 1I \ | How approach it in respc m- \\ — siveness—in mechanical per- pl I ■ lection. How resemble it in E I I appearance, design and tin- P I I ■ ish. Its increasing lame Pl 5S 1 makes permanent the Stand- tfl I ard— Pl Tn I THE ORIGINAL OF ITS KIND El I ■ Imitations are Never so Good UNDERWOOD TYPEWRITER CO M 241 Broadway. New York. 11