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I I ) \ 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. HOW TO GET THE VIEWS' These superb reproductions, which will constitute a complete souvenir and record of the Expo sition, are not distributed by us as a matter of profit, but rather to please our readers. 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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-