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EIGHTH PAGE
THE SUNNY SOUTH
AUGUST 13, 190*
Good Short Stories for Leisure Summer Hours
’M. not worthy of her,” cried
Mr. Jackson, with dismal
emphasis. "I never have
been worthy of her, and
X never shall be.”
"Take care not to men
tion It,” said young John
Walmer, sagely, "and she j
won’t guess. What Is she
like—to look at, I mean?**
"Charming."
"Then what have you to
grumble about?”
"Everything,” declared
"I helped her father out
of some trouble, and I believe she’s only
going to marry me out of gratitude.”
“You can tell,” said John, "by the way
a girl kisses you whether she’s fond of
you or not.”
"She never has kissed me,” said Mr.
Johnson, "and I’ve never tried to kiss
her. Is it usual?”
"An astonishing couple!” cried John
Mr. Jackson.
Left Out #
By BARRY PAIN.
n Vi AS waiting for Annie—or
perhaps I should say Miss
H'lcks now—at Portland
road station at 4 o’clock.
I was wearing what was
practically a Panama hat,
though I do not mean to
say I gave a fiver for It,
and a pink tie; she was al
ways rafher a girl for
pink. I stuck a cigarette
in my head and mooned
up and down waiting. Her
manner had been a bit
queer when I asked her to come; she
seemed to fhink it over a good deal be
fore she said sthe would. I shouuldn’t
have been surprised if she had never
turned up at all, tout at 4:20 there she
was, looking like a duchess as usual.
Dream Woman ^
By JOHN K. PROTHERO.
HE daylight wasvfading fast
and the young artist
glanced impatiently at the
long shadows gradually
steallnig through the room.
“Another hour, and I
shall have finished.’ he
muttered, “another hour—
and then—•**
He drew back and gazed
at the picture he was
painting, with an expres
sion In his eyes at onee
of pride and adoration. A
woman's face looked from, the canvas,
a face whose beauty seemed to glow with
a radiance almost unearthly, defying the
darkness of the November day to cloud
its brightness.
(Large, mournful eyes of a warm brown
with golden lights, masses of hair not
no means the personage you make out.
I’m still very unimportant, only I have
at least the prospect of becoming better
known.
“Is it not wonderful?” she went on
with a pretty little gesture of her small
hands, and a flush on her face that was,
her cousin thought, inilflnltely becoming!
“You know it was quite by chance Herr
Llebener heard me sing. I was having
my lesson, as usual, when the door flew
open, and a short, stout, excitable little
man rushed in.
" 'Dho is she Martell?” he asked my
master. Who is she? I will engage her
now, at once for opera!’ ’’
"And so—as I say, you are bow the
prima donna of the season."
"Not until tonight Is over. Hector. I
sing tonight for the first time. It is
possible I may break down.”
“Absurd!” he said. "The fact that you
are 'on trial,’ so to speak, will put you
on your mettle.”
"You will be there. Hector?” she asked
wistfully.
"Of course, T shall. Why, Dtilcle, how
Whatever I may have against her. It’s
no 'good saying she hasn’t got style, 'be- j auburn, nor yet ruddy brown, but retd
stopping to look at the decorations in j ca , ;so has. When I’m serving any- ! full, pouting lips—it was a face that
Chancery lane. “Never heard anything , body j n the shop I’m never taken in; I even while it held, yet It repelled you, caa yo y doubt it?
like it.” . know if they are the right thing or the j attracting, and at t'he same time mock-
‘U wish I hadn't," cried the other. He imitation fast enough. j ing at the admiration it excited,
took the best man’s arm. "John Wal- ! started rather disatgreebly, I | "The face of an angel," the young nrt-
mer," he went on. “get me out of this j thought, by saying that she thought } ist said, and his little cousin Dulcle had
Bomehow. I’ve been a bachelor such a those big hats did not suit little men; added: "Yes, of darkness.” j your _ . . , .
long time. Do help me. You’re a clever j thorp was not a word about her being | “Can you not leave it now. Hector? k pard ® peop e saving ej _,,
man; you’re getting on wonderfully. Re- i ] a t e . Considering that 1 had only bought lit must toe 5 o’clock >at least, and I am j ,ho Itlff JJ „ ® acne
member that I gave you a start in Ix>n- the hat because she said she liked Pan- j so tired or waiting. Hector," added the ' , S "" y , nt ..® P t ? on ' f wltb lt ‘
don ten years a£o.“ 1 amaa I thought it a. bit hard. But I said girl Impatiently, “can you not hear me?” 1 , r , , , f ® throe
’“You’re giving me one now. You don’t i nothing—1 mean I said nothing about the j But Hector Derrick was lost in a day aai1 ye ^ , to re _
mean to tell me seriously that you want k at . j said: "Regent’s Park. I suppose?” | dream, in which he had found his beau- w,uch !t WOuId be ma(lne&3 t0 re
to back out of it? Why, she’ll bring an A nd she said she supposed It was as good j tiful ideal, had met the woman whose , ou won>t refl]SG to sell It,
action against you, and your letters will there as anywhere. "Or as bad,” she add- face had come to him by inspiration. y
he read in court.”’ , | ««1 in rather a nasty way. I "I'm sorry, Dulcle." he said with a n !j tor ’ cotlsclous of a sense of relief
"She’s not that kind of a girl,” wailed J Presently she said to me, “What chance 'start, awake at last to her reproaches. im) sne, t of the "dream woman”
(Mr. Jackson, "and there aren’t any let- ls there of you ever being able to make . "Is she not beautiful?”’ be asked, with * ^ne aw . lv wlth 0 nce the picture
ters. John Walmer. at whatever cost £3 a week?” an eloquent gesture in the direction <* If sold sh< , fe lt sure her cousin would
she and I must not meet tills morning at "Well.” I said, "it may come. Annie, j the picture. "Sometimes I egret I ever L om( , h } g oW ,, rlght pelf aga in. Kver
St. Pancras church in the Easton road.” i think Mr. Parkinson’s satisfied with tried to fix those exquisite features upon 1 since that niglht when Dulcle fainted he
“But I've bought a new frock coat. 1 me.” j canvas, my greatest efforts fall so short j j lad avoided mentioning the picture, but
“It’ll come in for something else.” j “Do you?” she said. T had tea with j of my ideal. And yet, Duloie. I feel sure | the gi,.; knew with woman’s intuition.
Opportunities for transit w T ere that flay him last Sunday." j that somoJ day I shall meet her, and | {jjat he had bv no means abandoned his
something less than perfect, but John “My aunt!” I said. “You’rei getting I t'hen then I shall And how far short of j hope 0 j meeting some day the originai of
Walmer, onee persuaded, made his way . on. You never told me anything about reality my ideal was.” j^is conception.
up to Highgato with all convenient dis- jt. , A ji the same, you know, I don’t quite ! She 11 not toe a good woman, Hector. That night, however, all thoughts of his
natch, almost carried away now and nke it. You know the reputation he’s j She couldn't toe with that expression." ••ideal" med to leave him. With the
again by the strong tide of traffic that g. 0 t ; bft isn't the man to do anybody a ; “You always. wish to label a person j quick sympathy of an artistic tempera-
w T as making Its way down to the line of goad turn without expecting something j ’good’ or ’bad,’ Dulcle. Can t you un- | he entered into and understood
route Ho arrived rather warm from the j- or i derstand that in some cases it is stiff!- ] Dulcie’s hopes and fears. He was as an-
w’-ilk un the hill warm also from tolam- i “Don’t be such a silly. It’s like telling dent to be beautiful?” j xious as possible for her success, and
jn~ h i nl sclf for accepting a delicate and j me T cnn > t t;l .kr- caret of myself. No, I’m j "That's where I differ from you. To j felt a thrill of pride when he heard the
a difficult mission. There was not much no t going off there. I’m going to stick my way of thinking, a woman can’t be | murmurs of applause which greeted the
time to spare, for as he entered the road to dTo walk. I like to see people.” j beautiful unless she has a beautiful na- slight fitigure as, dressed In the costum*
two carriages drove up with drivers women change a good deal. A few lure.” j of the bewitching Carmen she ran on to
wearing white flowers in their botton- j Sundays before it was all, "Oh. take me j "And who says that such a lovely worn- ; the stage.
holes- these he Intercepted, Telling them ; OT ,t of this beastly crowd, George.” And an as she ls,” with a 'glance toward the I From the very first, "Madame Dulce-
tlint their services would not. be required I j did take 'her right out of it, and a very j picture, “could have anything but a | nia’s” success was assured; rarely, indeed,
that dav The drivers said to each other j nice, quiet time we had. j beautiful nature?” had any singer aroused such enthusiasm,
that there would be a chance after all “Any way you like,” I said. "Of j Dulcie shivered. and Hector, marvelling more and more
for them to go and give the. good old course, with regard to Parkinson. I did | “i don’t like her,” she said. "She has
queen a cheer. John gave his features j no t mean to imply anything. Let's say j c old eyes and a cruel mouth. I wish
appropriate* twist to denote sympathy no more about it. Still, I hope you’ll yo u’!d never thought of such a face.”
and 1 -nocked give me the honor and pleasure of taking ] H e laughed and to humor her left the
• \Ye are in the greatest possible j tea with me today.” ! easel,
trouble ” said the weeping lady super- l "I can’t,” she said. "It's very kind of j “p VP , finished for today,” he said,
fluously as she opened the door. “Could ! you, but I’ve promised Mr. j "We’ll go for a walk.”
But Hector, bending low over the
slender hand, heeded her not, for look
ing Into his eyes, smiling In that mm
fashion that he knew so well, was she,
the woman he had painted, the goddess
of his dreums, the Ideal for whom he
longed, for whom he had waited.
"At last,” he murmured, "I have found
you. Yes, at last!”
A year had passed since Dulcle had
made her debut, and since then, to all
appearance, her life had been one tri
umph. She could command any amount
she liked to name—this little country
girl—for just one song, she who In the
old days had wondered wistfully If sho
should ever have a chance.
But if time had brought her riches,
fame and honor, It had yet robbed her
of the one thing that to her was more
than all—her cousin Hector.
She had not seen him since the night
they had met the Countess Olgfa, as
the beautiful young widow was called.
Not seen him—that is to say, in the
old familiar fhshion. only a glimpse at
some society function, a smile at the
theater, once a hurried meeting in the
park.
And that was all, all that her fond
dreams, her anxious hopes had come to,
for Hector was infatuated, blindly, mad
ly infatuated by the woman whose beauty
by some strange chance he had fore
shadowed. His life was passed in wait
ing, watching, longing for a smile, a
tender word, perchance a half-contemptu
ous caress.
Sometimes she would not speak to him,
nnd then he suffered agonies, and wore
himself to death. His art. In wlil-ch he
had once given such good promise, had
ceased to occupy him. and, save when
site bid him, brushes and canvas lay un
touched.
Some few remonstrated; those who had
This once mighty and greatly feared Indian Chie ,
•who, when in the zenith of his power, was King of the
Plains, now deems it a pleasure to write his autograph
for visitors to the Indian School at the World s Fair.
The old Chieftain has provided himself with cards
and several indelible pencils, and for ten cents slowly
prints “Geronimo” on the card, which he hands to the
visitor with stately grace. There is no free list and
the fee must be paid in advance.
vou possibly call again some other time?” j lor today. I shall have to be off In na But Dulcle remained standing’ by t'he | sudden thrill—©ved her just a little.
He „,vo his name. “Oh, come in then,” j an hour, too. It doesn’t 'do to keep aim j p j cture crazing with fascinated eyes upon
sh«‘ said “I thought you were the rates 'waiting. You see, we’ve had to talk of it thQ painted beauty that looked at ber
and taxes. I’m so upset, and where my | again, and 1 suppose you see which way Jn such a soorn ful fashion. It seemed
handkerchief’s gone goodness only | the wind blows?” ^ | t 0 smile in conscious superiority, and,
knows.’
with
A cold shudder seemed to run down mj an impulse she could not withstand
! back. “Look here, Annie,” I said, tell younig . gin turned the portrait to tno
wall.
We’re
”1 hate yon.” she said passtonati-ty, ian‘d U( v
then, ashamed at such a childlsfii out-
John entered into competition
goodness by pointing out to the lady that I us straight out what you mean,
she held her handkerchief in her hand, | engaged, aren t -me.
and she thanked him for his timely sa- , “No.” she, said. "I’m very sorry.
and ' i George. I’m sure you re a s nice as a j >rpa i c> hurried from the room.
“^RowenV” sho called. and dlsap- man could be in many ways, but of But though her cousin did not again
-v gi ow s wis-h of skirts came course, you aren’t Mr. Parkinson. J ve j rpfer to the plct nre and was
£ d ’ j thought it all over and decided it couldn t sympathetic than he in
down the. staircase. Parkinson has £5 a week and ‘
"Mv name is Walmer, he said, speak- ; , , ,',,11 raon a
1 * , , ^ g*r»ri thit hp occasional commissions. Call it i-300 a
Ing loudly In order to pretend that he ^ altogether , and you’re inside the
was completely at his ease. , mark. Well, there you are. Of course
mer, and I have a somewhat urgent : ^ want tQ keep frterKis w ith you, but—”
message from Mr. Jackson. „ j ••Tell me straight,” I said. "Do you
-ay name, is Rowena.” she said, and : that you’re engaged to this
I have a somewhat urgent message for , ^ parklnson? „
Mr. Jackson.” ; “of course I do. That's what I’ve
Rather a pretty girl, John considered; | be( , n telling you aU this time.”
short, perhaps, but he liked them short— j Very wel i; Very well, indeed!
the circumstance compelled them to look i Then Mr. Parkinson will get his bfoom-
un to one. She offered her hand, moved i ing head broken off.”
a chair for him and sat in a corner of If you’re going to use language ke
a cnair ior uuu, that 1 shan’t stop. Suppose you had a
the room. J row W itli I’arKinson, what would be the
“I wonder which is the more impor- good y You’d be into the police court,
tant,” he said. : and my name be brought in. And that s
“Mine,” answered Miss Wowena; "I ja nice thing to do to a lady you pretend
She turned towards him with one of
those sudden smiles which made her face
so charming. j prophesied "great things of that young
"I haven’t told you yet how glad I am , Derrick” grew angry at Ills folly, and
our picture is accepted. Hector. I ve vainly urged him not to waste his time.
“She’s only fooling you!” his great
chum told him. "I swear to you. Hector,
she’s the most heartless and most hard
ened coquette In Europe. Besides, you
must see that she intends to marry 1
Lord St. Maur?”
At that Hector had flown off in a !
white heat to liis goddess, and poured, j
forth a flood of stammering eloquence, j
half imploring, half reproachful.
“Olga,” he cried, "Olga, tell me it isn’t
true. Tell me you care nothing for this
man. that some day you’ll be mine.”
His handsome face had grown haggard
during the last six months. He was no
longer a charming, sympathetic 'boy, win
some as he was talented, and so of late
the Countess Olg-.t had grown tired of
his adoration. What right had he to
make her so conspicuous, following her
about with those large, sad eyes? Also,
it appeared from what he said, that lie
•was not a genius after all.
"He hasn’t justified the expectations
formed of him,” was the general verdict,
and without stopping to ask if she were
in any way to blame, the countess fe.t
herself aggrieved at the failure of her
protege.
"It is time you exercised a little self-
control,” she said coldly. "I have never
given you the right to address me in the
fashion you have lately adopted, and I
will not have it. As for marrying you,
why”—she gave a scornful little laugh—|
“from what 1 hear you will soon have j
nothing left to support yourself wilh, j
much less a wife.”
"But 1 will work, Olga, only give me
a little hope, and I will paint such pie-
ttires as will take the world by storm.
It’s true I’ve done nothing lately, but
whenever I take the Iwush your f ice
conies between me and the canvas, and I
am forced to come to you. But"—and ni3
voice took a steadier tone—“if you tull
me that you do not love me, that you
cannot marry me, then I will strive to
face nry fate with firmness and resolu
tion.”
But Countess Olga bad no thought of
letting any of her victims go wholly
flee. A little more caution was what
she wanted, not the breaking of her
chains.
And so she smiled at him and whis
pered. "That, unless he wished it, she
would rather not say that she didn’t iove
at the girl’s genius, was stirred by an
emotion not altogether cousinly.
"You were *ia rvelous, Dulcle,” he told
her; “marveli-us.” And of all the trib
utes she reeved that night, none were
so precious a; the knowledge that Hector
admired her, even—she thought with a
Herr DIeber.r, the impresario, who, so
to speak, hadlinearthed her talent, was
giving a suppr in her honor and Dulcie,
looking very tjnsome in her gown of soft ,
white silk, fc! supremely happy as she - '
entered the r«|m on Hector’s, arm.
Half the noyviitlc
1,0 -V Tj S2$. on - i-him.’’
■, •e -vk y / - vATiG Hwjtot - , aputi enslaved, went from
er presence more infatuated than ever,
as one after the other the lions of so
ciety paid her rfomc compliment or con
gratulated her on her success.
But, to her mind, none of the men,
handsome and distinguished looking as
they were, came np to Hector, and
when some one asked if her cousin were
the brilliant young artist who had palnt-
I- tr.l^irranli It Here’* the : to love. Aisu you’d get the boot. Last
was going to telegraph 1L Here s tne ( y<ju were out 0 ? a berth you were
form I’ve just written out. | out for a i olxg time if I remember right.”
John read it and slapped his knee. ] remember right. I’m not likely
"He’s such a good man,” she want , to forget it as long a s I live either. It
on writh eaxne?tness, “and I ought to j weighed with me a good deal, that,
have discovered before this morning that j “Can’t you see which side your broads
I didn’t care for him enough. My sister | b “ ’ do you‘mean ? Do you think
Is cross with me. She says this comes of j it WOU ] d do me a t ly good if I went to
putting everything off till the last mo- j Parlynson and told him that I resigned
ment ” my claims?”
"The harm comes in putting it off later
than the lust moment. [have any claims, it wouldn’t hurt me,
“I know that everybody wdll blame , but you would be 0 ut in the street 0 n the
me and I know how good Mr. Jackson I first*excuse. I know Mr. Parkinson, and
was to father. But I don’t care!” she i be - s ntd one to stand anything of that
said sturdily, “I won’t marry until I find 1 kind. What I meant was that you
some one I really like. ’ j should be sensible and remember that
“And that encounter—?’’ I I’m your friend."
“Please give me Mr. Jackson’s mes- ( “You think that perhaps you might be
sage ” she said. I able to put in a word for me with him.
The elder sister had to be called down I There will be Williamson’s bertli ya-
and Invited to join in the general con- leant after Christmas, and if you, could
gratulotlorm to observe the wise and in- Isay that from what you had noticed you
cenious workings of Providence, and this I thought—”
she did pointing out somewhat frostily ”1 wouldn't do you fhat injur j, Georg--,
that whatever might be suld her day was !l wouldn’t indeed. Why, it would be as
♦Vw.rvi,nrhlv .and completely spoiled. But good as telling him that there wa s some
thing between us!, and that j ou hadn t
been able to act like a man and give me
up properly.”
“I can act like a man fast enough, if
that’s all vou want. I'll soon show—”
kinder and
had been for
eeks. still the girl’s pleasure was spoilt
by the thought of those dark, glowing
eyeta, that scarlet mouth, and, for a
•wonder, Dulcie was c < r\ silent , picture of the year, Dulcio felt she
This holiday, that she had worked and ^ ^ ^ ^ fQr
waited or so man> m " ’ nave I Hector had kept close to her side all
brought all the Joy she looKed to hate. - ...
A year aigo the two cousins had been the evening, and it was in response to his
parted for'the first time. They had been I whispering warning "not to tire herself.”
•brought up by their grandfather, and : that she at last rose to leave. Her host
between the two—both orphans—there | was .standing at the further end of the
was a bond of strong affection. i room t ._and as she advanced to say “good*
'rite old man’s death ha d broken up the I by,’* she heard more tha n one murmur
home life that the.y loved so well, and j of admiration for her sweet, fair face.
Hector had gone abroad to study paint- | Hector was gazing at her with a new ex-
ing; Dulcie to work bard at perfecting , pression in his eyes, and her little fin-
her' one °-reat gifb—a glorious voice. And , gers unconsciously tightened their hold
upon his arm.
In after years tlia.t scene often rose be
fore her. The brilliantly lighted rooms,
the women flashing with jewels, the faint,
sweet perfume of the flowers, but, clearer
than all. Hector’s dark face aglow with
thoroughly and completely spoiled.
John declaring that this was a hasty
anticipation of events, remarked that
ttia mission over his day was now free
and ask*d to be Informed whether the
ladioe under the altered condition of af
fairs, would care to see the procession.
Elder gleter replied that she for one was
not going in the crowd to be tom Into a
thousand million pieces, and John said
that being a man with some influence he
had the right to three most admirable
neats just on the other side of London
bridge and—looking at his watch—if they
could be ready in eight minutes he would
gladly undertake the responsibility of
conducting them to the point, looking af
ter them while there, add eventually see
ing them home again. Elder sister had
n quarter of an hour since determined
to stay at home and have a good cry,
hut Rowena answering for both said that
if MV. Walmer was quite sure he did
London bridge was closed but John
anew his way about too well to be baf
fle.’. bv this. How it was done the ladies
never knew; what they did realize was
that fhov crossed the river somehow, and
crossed it by a bridge of some sort, and
there they were, up a temporary wooden
■taircase, and in the division marked L
and finding presently their numbers. The
dav was warm, but they had brought
their parasols, and a friend of John s
brought to the ladles tumblers of some
cool beverage, with lumps of ice dancing
a-ton The elder sister expressed a hope
that it would not get into her head, but
the day being special and the occasion
rare decided to take the risk.
And after what the elder sister an
nounced as two solid hours of waiting,
but appeared to John as two fleeting
moments, the barrier at the city end of
the bridge opened, the band near stopped
nlayfcut, and John** Wend called from
his seat below that the procession had
left St Paul. Soon across the bridge
came mounted soldiers, mounted repre
sentatives of foreign countries, marching
men from every land that owned Vic
toria as queen, and presently through a
wHd long boom of cheers. In an open
curia** a little old person. In her eyas
tsars of thankfulness.
mmm dear soul!” cried Rowena. John
sw«s her 4 up by the elbows that she
’Great Scott!” she said, looking at the
ateh strapped on her wrist; ’’I’ve got
to cut and run. Do believe it's all for
the best, George. book at it the right
way. See you again one of these days.”
So I’m left out of everything, as usual.”
might see well over the heads of other
people in the stand. “This is better than
any wedding.”
Bells clanging out from St. Savior,
engines on the railway shrieking congrat
ulations folk from Horsleydown and
Rotherhithe at the top of Tooley street
cheering everybody, from a popular Brit
ish general on a white horse to the black
police from the West Indies.
It did seem to the ladies that town had
no secrets from John. At Gannon Stieet
hotel he warned them they might have to
wait their turn for lunch; he would do
what ho could. As a matter of fact,
there was plenty of room at the tables,
and when John asked the head waiter
whether thev could have a cold fowl the
head waiter replied that the supply was
so much in excess of the demand that
he would let John have forty cold fowls.
They took It quietly after lunch. Had
a rest first and then strolled out Into
the city to see the decorations. John
showed Rowena the office where he had
ones been a junior clerk; she pld it was
a very interesting place. He told her
how remarkably well he had been getting
on the last two years.
"It’s been a much happier day,” she
said at Highgate that evening, “than I
thought it was going to be. I can’t think
of anything being jollier.”
"I can,” said John.
“Excuso me, Mr. Walmer,” Interposed
the elder sister, “but—If It Isn’t a rude
question—are you by any chance engaged?
Engaged to a lady, I mean.”
“Deq,r me, no!"
. "Then,” announced the elder sister, Im
pressively, "we’re always at home on
Sunday afternoons.”
John Walmer looked down at Rowena
with a question In his eyes.
"Please!” said the girl.
now her holiday was nearly over, and
she was conscious of a sense of disap
pointment that she iiad nc*vcr felt be-
l'OTO.
\ year ago Hector had asked nothing
better than to be with her always; now
he was altered, changed almost, it seem- j admiration, and, it seemed to her, with
ed to her, Indifferent. love
His (dream woman had come between
them.
Aunt Mary, who still lived in the old
house, ‘ keeping it ready for the chil
dren.” as she said, noticed that Dulcie’s
bright cheeks wore a shade paler than
their wont, and her voice, always pa
thetic, seemed charged with an almost
tragic intensity when, as usual, she sang
to them that evening.
She had finished "Adelaide,” and as
the last notes echoed through tile room,
she turned, to the window where Hector
A little knot of men had gathered
round her, protesting at her leaving them
so soon, complimenting and congratulat
ing to the last.
“I’m afraid my cousin will be tired,"
said Hector, and Dulcie noted with a
swift, keen Joy the tone in which he
spoke. What could she have to wish for
more? Youth, beauty, a great career be
fore her, and, above all, the hope that
Hector before long would love her even
as she loved him.
Had she but left at that moment how
You can see him !“ a tf , ma ltoTf
large photo
graphic reproduction, nine inches square, if you turn
the pages of that Superb Exposition Series,
••What'will you now have, dear?” she different might have been her life, how
asked. There was no reply. He had dis- many pangs would she have been spared,
appeared, and in the middle of bis favor- j what bitter suffering, and what vain rc-
ite song' grets. But one of those trifling incidents
Dulcie's small White fingers crashed In which, small in themselves, are yet con-
terrilic dis.cord on the keys. Then, with stantly interfering with our destiny, de-
something that sounded like a sob, she layed her, and during the few minutes
rushed upstairs. i that she waited the course of her exist-
Instinctively she paused outside the . ence was changed,
room that Hector called his studio. Per- j Someone had gone to fetch her music,
haps he had gone to fetch something, and as she stood by Hector, laughing and
and would come back within a moment. • chatting in a light-hearted fashion, the
He would be vexed to find here gone. She ; slight commotion attendant on the ar-
pushed the door a little farther nope. The rivsl of an important guest attracted
moon had risen, and for a moment she bt , r attention.
could discern nothing through the soft
beams of silver light.
Gradually, however, her eyes became
accustomed, and to her excited fancy the , llad me it e d, there
picture on the easel glowed with an un
earthly, nay, unholy lustre. Hector was
standing by the portrait, and as lie drew
nearer to the pictured fa«e, it seemed
to grow brighter and yet more bright,
until by contrast he appeared wrapped
in the .blackest shadow.
Dulcie held her breath, and leant against
the wall.
The scarlet Ups appeared to smile, the
warm, brown eyes grew luminous with the
light of love, the silken tresses of the
dream woman's hair stirred as with the
breath of life. And as the painted beauty
glowed so, to Dulcie’s excited brain. Hec
tor appeared to fade, until in the wan,
pale light, he looked a very shadow of
himself.
"Hector!” she screamed. "Hector!”
The picture woman seemed to frown, the
moonlight faded—all was a blank. Only
she heard he cousin’s voice exclaim:
“My little Dulcle, my own dear little
Dulcle!” and after knew nothing.
"The countess!" exclaimed Herr Lieb-
ener. and advanced toward the door. In
.a minute the little group around Dulcie
was a general move-
"And so you’ve blossomed into a prima
'donna, little Dulcie, and, no doubt, think
a mere dauber of paint like myself a very
unimportant person? Tell me how it all
happened dear? I don’t quite realize
even now that my little country cousin
is one and the same as Madame Dul-
cenla, the soprano of the season.”
"Nonsense, Hector,” answered the girl
•with a laugh, “you exaggerate; I’m by
ment in Liebener’s direction and a little
chorus of delighted exclamations.
“So charmed to see you. How good of
you to come.”
Then the crowd parted, and leaning on
the impresario's arm Dulcle saw a tall,
stately looking woman.
As they came nearer her features seem
ed to grow familiar, and a strange sense
of unreality, almost of dread, stole
over the young girl.
Those eyes, that scarlet mouth, that
hair—surely she knew them all.
“Hector,” she said, and caught his
hand, fearing she knew not what.
But, as though unconscious of her pres
ence, he shook off the clinging fingers,
and, as if spellbound, stood witli his
eyes fixed upon the countess.
"So this is Madame Dulcenia?” she
asked in a low, rich voice, tinged, so it
seemed to Dulcle, with scorn.
The girl murmured some reply, and
shrank away, looking always toward Hec
tor, as though dreading what he might
do.
With a haughty gesture the woman
swept past her, and, pausing in front of
Hector, smiled a slow, sweet, dangerous
smile, which made Dulcie shudder, but
turned the blood In Hector's veins to
fire.
And as she smiled the little singer
knew her, and hated her with a hatred
sudden and Intense.
■‘The dream woman!” she gasped.
“Hector, the dream 'woman!” >
Filipinos
Japanese
Chinese
Patagonians
Alaskans
Ceylonese
t was the occasion of a brilliant »e-
Ce tion at tne Austrian emuassy, and, in
th6,opinion of the majority, quite L.c
luncuon of tue season,
you know if Duicema’s going to
sln S ; tasked a tall, qisunguished-iook-
ing Bu,. -X heard she was ill, and
couldn come."
’’Wile tas to sing, 1 know,” said the
ycung Itache addressed, "and as slit
hasn t word, 1 expect she’ll keep
her engtoment.”
' <Untt ‘ st > is very anxious to hear
her,” sn t be first speaker, a lit Lie I
•conscious'; “ahe is a great admirer ol I
her voice
“I’m gl: st. Maur said ‘her voice,’ ’’ j
laughed Jjng Dalton to a companion ■
"The fairijga can ’t bt?ar anything e.se j
about lier.x don’t think she’s ever foi- j
given the »-a for refusing to sing at her 1
“at home,’ hough, as a matter of fact, :
I think the nntess ionly got her deserts, j
It appears *t young Derrick—her lady- i
ship’s lates —i s Dulcenia’s cousin,
and she natqfiy resents his being made 1
a fool of.”
"The countj bas simply ruined him,
as she has a lousa nd other*.’*
“Hush! He g Dulcenia.”
A little palest as sweet as ever, the
fair face lookt e thereal in its loveliness
that night. SI was dressed in her fa- j
vorite white, one spot of color, a I
knot of cTlmsoifises, on her breast. For |
a moment the and the countess
stood side by and more than one I
noted the contr. Olga, tall, stately,!
her superb shoul- s gleaming like ivory ]
above her gown <rich black satin, dia- j
monds .in her corij 0 f ba ir and around
her throat; Dulci a slight, girlish lig- ,
ure, with dewy eg and a wealth of i
light brown tresse:
Then the oounte moved away, her •
proud face wearing^ angry, almost a ]
lowering expression.,,. sbe had caught i
the whispers of adi a tion that Dulcc- j
ria excited. For onc be was compelled
to take tho second p»
Later on Dulcie s* an d Olga bit
her lip in uncontrolla passion as she
listened to the voice, , ar as a lark's,
pure as an angel’s. ,\t use was her
boasted beauty in com\ son with such
a gift!
"If the girl were not * O0 | s h G would
have the whole world i XGr feet,” she
Brought. "As It is. sbe«ulci not ov-n
keep her cousin.” and stopfiigd as she
thought of Hector.
She had long ago divlne«,e little sin
ger’s secret, and took a i^i ous pleas
ure In showing the girl tm be knew ;t.
"Have you seen vour C' n lately?”
the countess asked Dulcie s.fly, know
ing full well that it was iy a long
dav since she had. “I thoiu be looked
v( ry fagged last evening. p it y h,->
should have so neglected niv portuni .
ties; he was rather talent at one
^Before be met you." •"«« Dul-
eenia steadily. he had the g htea t.
sunniest of dispositions. He won
derfully clever, and bid fair t< aka n
mme. At your door lies the Cg G of
•his failure: knowing full well ftt
was In him to achieve, vou set
ito spoil, to ruin him. You ,?l a '*1th
hi« Iovp—Ills life—and now F “rolce
off. “Book!" she pointed towrf the
door, through which a gaunt an BS ,_
gard-looking man had entered, ^j.
what you have made him now!
There was a slight commotion ft
voung artist entered His dress 1
dered his eyes feverishly bright. at, t
'thev tried to stop him. But there,
something so tragic, so impassionc
his face, that instinetivelv they d
back and watched him till he rear
•the countess, as she stood by Lord
Maur. . ,,, ,„„,been asking for liar, and luid left _
"Olga.” he criefl “^'""W-ssage asking her to go to a certain
the protestations of the crowd, what address in a poor locality,
this man to Y 0 } 1 • ... . Dulcie’s thoughts at once turned to
For a moment she hesitated then ^t|^. t0 r. Ho was in trouble, ill. perhaps
a scornful little laugh, turned owar ving! She hurried to her carriage, ana
St. Maur. ,, - ,« T „u_,it>ve at full speed to the address mon-
“He Is my lover, -Re rep ed, I shall npd g be W as shown into a poorly-
shortly be nts wue. . nlshcd room, where on a bed lay her
lin. nick, unto death!. . IVith a cry
Many other famous Indian Chiefs are
there pictured, as well as strange and
curious people from all over the globe,
and they are all described by Walter E.
Stevens, Secretary of the Exposition.
There are
Esquimaux
■ Bohemians
Cliff Dwellers
Egyptians
Mexicans
Lascars
Brahmins, Etc., Etc.
Indians
Russians
Spaniards
Tyroleans
Swiss
Moors
And you see them all engaged in their native avo
cations, and pastimes.
The Forest City reproductions are bound into
thirty beautiful Portfolios, each consisting of 16 pages,
11 x 14 inches, with 16 views appropriately described,
printed on high grade enameled paper, and substan
tially bound in heavy, durable cover paper for perma
nent preservation. One Portfolio is issued each week.
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which will constitute a complete
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a matter of profit, but rather to
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THE SUNNY SOUTH
PORTFOLIO
DEPT.,
appearance, and hinted at “unrequited
love." Nothing had been heard of Hec
tor Derrick since the night when Olga
had announced her engagement to Lord
St. Maur, more than a year ago. He had
disappeared from sight, and, for all that
Dulcle know to the contrary, was starv
ing.
She had sung her last song, had re
l -‘*- J iftol*li<i'Mf uli tfc if,
man, Olga? Is that so dear- tt-
sake I will do it, though” yo " r ,
and bit her lips-'Vhf i,~nr "t°PP>’d
you. Hector, eht—’’ wormy or
T w Y hom , are You speaking, Dulcie’
The .other was a dream ^ cr-3 Y' j
has nroved me .....•-. . cr —m tnat
ry of oity
laid her lips on his.
md tencernos
Dulec-nia did nut ..rii ~t
after all; neither wfs HocTori'/ W o Y ? rk
death. n hTrlcovered^fs heakh
two months of
I ought to wait for fortune and
his "arms, and with a low, hurt cry, fell tlstre^s "she'ran toward him? knecBng w^como 11 ^™ “ bUt_I Cant ’
unconscious at her feet! ii s side. I Tven U not ™. , sooner or later. and
ector, my dear, why have you hid- both. Fame h nniv'! ? ot cnou ”h for
yourself from me?” ] and r« Z, *i« V. dream after all,
bnt right have I to trouble you?” ! my i:' e . S s ~ivYn th „ l° ns ' Henceforth
Hswered “I should not have; sent ! and he turned and realit y>"
now. but —he broke off—“I am I heart in his irmJ » h,s sweer-
T^iely to worry you long. Dulcie. j up into his w And . Dulpie - gazing
do something for me_?” The dream wo^aw ^ utterI Y content,
want mu. to fetch her, that wo- from itheir lives?* 11 ® assed tor ever
unconscious
Dulcenia was giving a farewell con
cert; she was sailing the next day for
New’ York, and from .there was extending
he* tour half round the world. She was
j„ heed of a long rest, and spoke of re
tiring from public life altogether.
Rumor said that she had not recov
ered from the shock of her cousin’s dis-