Newspaper Page Text
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By LOLLIE BELLE WYLIE.
Written for The SUNNY SOUTH.
XE afternoon' In May,
Desiree l>e Pre hurried
, along- 'the esplanade, on
an errand (for Le Grande,
otherwise known as Ma
dame Le Pre.
Suddenly she passed in
ifront of a small botbth
In which sat an old ne
gro woman selling antins-
anMr.'gs and love put
ters.
“HI! Missy!” called the
crone, seeing that Desiree
eyed her with great wl s-t-
fulness, "Yo' better stop an' twarl de
coffee cap! My! hut dar's a heap er
good t'lngs fo’ yo'!”
'Thus cncx/uraiged, Desslree, a small
fragile child with sombre eyes and
pale brown skin, glanced down at her
faded dimity, and bare logs, resentfully,
then relunctantly untied the corner of
lier handkerchief, and withdrew a small,
silver coin.
"Do you see a muslin dress with pink
roses, and a pair of pink slippers with
high heels?” she asked, holding the
money securely, as one who would drive
a fair bargain. ^
“Kiyi!" laughed the seer good hu
mored! y, “an - a be-yoot-a-ful yaller
bonnet.”
"Huh!” sneered the child. "X would
not wear a yellow bonnet!”
Replacing the coin she added regret
fully, “and you need not read my
fortune.”
“Hit! I am isuch a foolish-some ol’
'ooman!" returned the fortune .teller,
following with her covetous eyes the
vanishing money. "Ladies uv quality
doesn't wear yaller! no, course not!
Only po’ white trash does.”
Desiree glanced again at her naked
feet, this lime uneasily.
"Do you see the pink slippers still?
and a—a white parasol with lace frills?”
timidly.
"Aye,” persuaded the mulatto, "an'
(tar yo' is Jest a rldin’ In a fine ker-
riaige fur all de world lak de one de
fai's driv de princess to the ball in."
Hesitating no longer, the child un
covered the silver and handed it to the
woman. Then for the quarter of an
hour she stood on the pavement in the
hot sun, listening to a parson of words
and Jugglery of Ideas that bewildered
her young mind.
The life of Derisee Le Pre. had been
one of pitiful loneliness, passed as It
was behind the great bronze gate in
tx.e shadow and gloom of the quaint
brick house, with no living companion
ship save ive Grande, and the old ne
gro slave who had always lived In the
family. This servant had seemed as
old as Xlada-me Le Pre, and to the
child's fresh young mind, she hud seem
ed as old as the world.
There came a day when the old ser
vant died, and after a time Le Grande
became so poor, that Where was no
money to hire help, nnd Desiree had
to wash the dishes, run errands to
the market, and stand on corners along
the esplanade nnd sell little bouquets
of opoponax blooms to the (people who
j>assed.
It was during this period of her life
that the lonely cthild. was attracted to
Maujn Da.phne, the fortune teller, and
though she had never dared speak to the
wonderful seer, she Often stopped near
by and listened eagerly, ns she read the
signs in the cup for her customers. At
last there came a day when I>esiree
found a bright nerw silver dime on the
pavement in front of St. Louis cathedral,
and this she hid from Madame Le Pre,
for the purpose of hearing Mmmi Daphne
read the fortune for her, (Provided that
prophet woLdd -promise her the flowered
dress and the pink slippers for which
her feminine heart yearned.
And how delightful it was for her to
listen to the old (woman s promise! TV>
have her Interject the rose-colored
propheay with pictures of handsome
young lovers riding on coal-black steeds;
of p3laco.s across the water and all
sorts of imagined and unimautined gar
ments that glittered like the moon! Oh,
it was delicious! and the targe, dark
eyes of the child grew rounder and deep
er as she listened.
"An’ now," concluded the crone, “de
las’ ting is, dut yo’ g-win' on a long*
journey wid yo' pa."
•That isn’t true,” said the child de
cidedly, “for I haven’t any’ father nor
nrorther. I have only Le Grande, and the
-wee fairy folk that come to me in the
moonlight. If you see my father I
won’t believe anything else you have
said. Not even the dress or the slip
pers!” and angry- tears sprang to the big
round eyes.
”Yo’ pa's (tar, but yo’ m a got a black
veil oher her, an' she ain't show her
self. So dar,” retorted the woman
spitefully-.
“Oh, well," temporized Desiree with
passionate expectancy-, "If you still see
the dress and slippers I will believe.
Good-by," and she rail forward to fulfil
her forgotten commission for Madame
lx* Pre.
When Desiree returned to the silent old
home In tho French quarter the swiftly-
falling twilight had shut It In more se
curely behind the great bronze goto.
She had never dared remain out so late
before, and it was with vague fears and
uncertainties that she crept quietly tip
t he circular steps and into the long,
dark hall where her naked ft-et pattered
noisily on the tiled floor. ’
Suddenly her steps were arrested by
the sound of voices that came through
the library- door. One, that of Le Grande,
she recognized, but the other, a man's
voice, musical and strong, she had never
heard before.
“And, all these years," the man was
saying, "I never knew that I had a
child! My- poor little Desiree!”
"Much trouble you took to find out,
with your scampering away to foreign
countries,” Madame Le Pe replied in a
thin, high pitch of indignation.
“As you see,” she resumed, after a
brief silence, "she is alive. Very much
alive. DerjiTiine came home shortly after
you left and the child was born. After
that ”
“1 know.” The man’s vtoice was im
patient.
"You do not know,” said the woman,
"but why go over that horrible story-.
It Is enough that you are here for the
child. If I had not been so poor, and
old and feeble, ylou should not have
known. It was wronging the child not
to send for you.”
At this point, Desiree Le ‘Pe felt her
self about to sneeze, and not wishing to
be cau/ght ewesdropping, pushed open
the door and entered the. room with a
degree of composure she did not feel.
By the light that streamed from tho
wax candles in a splendid old silver can
delabrum on the mantle she saw a
strange gentleman seated opposite her
grandmother in the center of the great
old room with its faded tapestries and
polished wood
Madam Le Pre, a distinctive figure of
bone and muscles, was shifting her
w hite-stoekened feet uneasily about the
hem of her faded gray calico skirt,
whilst her head was held stiffly befeath
Its light weight of gray side combs
and high, old-fashioned comb. Her eyes
were bright witli the polish of tears,
and her face sensitive to the inroads of
bitterness and sorrow that had left their
mark upon each curve. There was little
of tenderness—nothing of Joy left fo tell
of a youth dried up, and only an un
lovely temple crumbling under the touch
of time to lell where once the light cf
a soul had burned.
The newcomer, as he sat with tense
expression, and eager boring, seemed
to Deslre e to embody all the beauty and
fragrance of the world of which she had
had often dreamed. The texture and col
or of his person was like that of the
Blessed Jesus the child had seen pictured
In the windows at the church, and when,
startled by her abrupt entrance, he
turned his eyes upon her onw, Desiree
Instantly clasped lier hands in an atti
tude of adoration and murmured some
thing about the saints and the dear
Christ.
“For shame,” shrilled Madam? De Pre
angrily. “God will surely punish y-ou for
your irreverence, and Pere Roquat will
give you a hundred Hail Marys at your
next confession! Go and apeak to your
father. His name is John Alston. He
has come to carry you away and make
a fine lady of y-ou.”
A covert sneer in Lp Grand’s voice
fell upon Desiree's sensitive heart like
a blow and she shrank away.
"It is true, Desiree. I am your father.
Will you come?”
John Alston held out his arms ap
pealingly and with a timid response
the lonely, unloved child crept into the
shelter that opened to her.
Nestling there, the hours passed, as
the trio talked of the future and made
plans for the child.
Desiree and her father were to go
away—across the wonderful ocean, where
after that, she—well after that the trio
we.re to dream away their bliss in beau
tiful places, with the sunlight forever
about them, for John Alston was a
scientist who had not only made fame,
but a fortune that would give he and
his child a life of luxury and joy.
When the hour for retiring came, Des-
siree suddenly remembered Maum
Daphne, and puttin glier lips to lier fath
er's ear she whispered;
“Will you give me a muslin dress with
pink roses, and a pair of high heel
slippers to match?”
Being assured that she should have
them on the morrow. Desiree went to
bed, but only to lie blinking at the
stars until late in the morning, thinking
of how lonely Le Grande would be if
she left her in the gloomy old home,
with no one to wipe the dishes and run
to the shop for her.
III.
The following week was the time set
apart for the de*p art ure of John Alston
and his newly found daughter, for the
man was eager to be alone in the com
panionship of his child, and well on his
way from a scene that held for him many-
sad and tragic memories.
“It is the work of the devil.” said'
Madame Le Pre. the day of the depart
ure, seeing the child running about dis
tractedly trying on first one garment
then another that the indulg' nt parent
had lavished upon lier. “It will bring
you no (good, all this folly and vanity.”
indicating the heaps of finery that we e
scattered about.
“G_ro-nde, were you ntver a little girl,
and had for no pink slippers?’’ asked
Desiree naively, wondering at the old
woman's contempt.
"Yes. But I was strong. You are lika
your mother, vain and stupid,” answered
she bitterly.
“My mother!” There was Infinite
sweetness in the voice of the child as she
spoke. “Where is my mother, grande?”
she asked, suddenly- confronting her
grandmother with hungry, widening eyes.
"Hiush. You must not bother me with
questions. You have no mother.”
There was a quality in the squeaking
voice that touched the child, and she
w-t nt closer to her companion, and throw
ing her arms around her pleaded.
“Tell me about lier, grande. Was she
a little girl like me? Did she love pretty-
clothes. and did you love her?”
The lips of the woman trembled so that
she could not speak for a while, then
gently kissing the brow of her grand
daughter, pushed her away and -aid;
“You are very like your mother, child.
So much so that it makes me shiver to
see you loving these bright baubles as
you do. They were the undoing of your
mother.”
“Grande," Desiree spoke briskly. “I
am not going to leave you. My father
must carry you with us. or leave me here.
I will not go without you.”
Nor could the child be persuaded
against this decision, and when the ship
weighed anchor that afternoon a wither
ed old woman with a softened face and
moist eyes could lie seen leaning against
the rail of tho boat looking contentedly
toward a little girl clinging raptuousiy
to the hand of her father as the great
machinery was set in motion.
IV.
In tihe autumn of 1905, yellow fever was
epidemic in New Orleans.
The hot, humid breath of disease panted
through cypress woods, and low, stagnant
marshe \ carrying death upon every
breeze, and there seemed no relief from
tho dreader plague.
In the French quarter, men an<j wom
en dropped off like cattle. In the house
of the rich anil the por alike the angel
of suffering and tears sat brooding.
Toward the close of a sultry- day in
September an open, public conveyance
drove up to the great bronze gate of a
quaint old brick house set well within
a dense myrtle shade, and stopped.
The sole occupant, John Alston, alight-
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By W. H. KOEHEL.
STRANGE atmosphere of
matrimony was approach
ing the village of Rugglcs-
bury. That is was com
pressed within an inade
quately small space is
true. The foremost van of
Blinker’s World- Famed
Circus held it. Yet the ve
hicle lumbered none the
quicker along the road
for all the amorous vapor-
ings that floated within its
painted sides.
The ringmaster, the clown, and the
gentleman who illustrated the haute
■ecole upon a ooal-black steed sat there
in moody pensiveness. L'ninafrled as
■were all three the disadvantages of
their bachelorhood had become acutely
evldent during a pause in a game of
“nap.” Owing to a common dearth of
funds they had been play-ing, per force,
for the empty glory of points alone. It
was perhaps this fact that caused their
thoughts to stray in the direction of
deeper affairs.
“Traveling about like this," grumbled
the clown, "don’t give no chances. By-
the end of a week, wihen a girl’s got
so far as to realize that you’ve a heart
under paint, the orders is—up i and
awa*-."
"It’s different with me,” mused the
ohev&lier de l’haute ecole, "but I don't
know as It’s any better. It's my posi
tion and appearance they've got to get
over. It takes 'em a good week to learn
that I'm not affable merely in a—a aris
tocratic way.”
’’Same here,” chimed In the ringmas
ter, "exa-otly.”
"What we want," said the clown, "Is
to go to work In a more business-like
fashion. If we don't strike some Idea
for quick courtin' like as not we shall
go about the country single all our
lives.”
The ringmaster started up.
"How about a beauty show?” he ex
claimed. "Blinker would tumble to It
if we had one at Rugglesbury. Good
business for hint it would be. The
point is tii is, consolation prizes—you
know—us.”
The amazed look with which the other
two regarded him changed gradually- to
one of fervent admiration, it was some
while ere they spoke. When they did
the ringmaster staggered beneath an
unwonted torrent of compliment. Then,
laying their heads together, they spoke
in interjections that grew gradually
more coherent.
Thus the caravan rolled onwards out
wardly much as usual. But in the first
van was a whirlpool of ferment and of
delirously maturing plans.
It was a curious coincidence that pre
cisely at this period a corresponding
desire should have entered the breast
of one of the inhabitants of Ruggles
bury- itself. There could be no doubt
that Job Yardsley-, who kept the May-
pole Inn, had no right to be a bachelor.
A "warm" man, the master of a cosy
home and of thirty acres, of grazing
land besides, ought to find something
better to do with his money than to
spend it upon himself. Such was the
female opinion of the village. Job was
frankly callous.
“If you were married. Job,” remarked
his friend, Sam Evans, the day before
the arrival of Blinker’s circus, "as likely
as not y-ou'd find more objick in life.”
Sam Evans was in the throes of bring
ing up nine children. Job Yardsley
gazed without interest across the bar
parlor table.
“So I’ve heard before,” he remarked.
"Besides,” continued the other, "it ud
be good for business. A nice, clean
looking woman always puts me in mind
of good beer, clean tankards, an' butter
that's fresh. I'll bet your takings would
go up. Others feel the same way—that's
why.”
A quick gleam entered Job's eye. it
fell upon the untidy looking pot boy,
then it wandered back to rest stealthily
on the rim ot" ills glass.
“Ah,” he observed, carelessly, “p'r’aps
or -p'r'aps the reverse."
Yet his mind grew strangely impreg
nated with the idea. Evans had sown a
mightier seed than he knew. Its sprout
ing toward maturity- engrossed Yardsley
to an unprofitable extent. On the next
day a rustic in search of half a pint re
ceived its double and the correct change
for its half. Ere Job Yardsley could
rectify his error the beer was in a haven
whence no argument could retrieve it.
Sam Evans chanced to be in the UAr.
“Ah,” he chuckled, "there's only one
reason for that way of goin' on—that's
love.”
Job started. Perhaps it was. If so,
ell that remained for him to do was to
choose the girl. The coincidence de-
cldfd him.
It was just after this that the poster
announcing the beauty show at Blinker's
circus came flaming into Ids bar in the
manner of the dawn of a new life.
“Yes,” said Job later in the day, “you
might give it out as official. I'll take
the winner of the first prize—and no
questions asked afterwards.”
“Aren't you leavin' it a bit to chance?”
objected Sam Evans; “it might be—well—
any one.”
Job Yardsley flung a knowing leer.
“It might,” be admitted, “and it might
not. I’ve made my inquiries. Sam,” he
continued, “no pigs in pokes for me.
Every girl in the place has entered. But
there's only three as stands a chance—
Elizabeth Harmer, Jane Askew and Vio
let Budden.”
Sam Evans pondered.
“That's true," he said. “I s'pose them
three has the pick of Ruggiesbury-'s
looks.”
"I hope it’ll be Elizabeth Ilarmer,”
said job Yardsley.
Elizabeth Harmer was the daughter of
a dairyman, the reputed owner of a nest-
egg. The other two were the offspring
of the local carpenter -nd blacksmith re
spectively.
"Which ever way it goes,” asserted Sam
Evans, "the 'vertisement ror the May-pole
will be first rate. ,-_s for lettln' folks
know, you leave it to me. Job. You
couldn't have struck a better man for
what I might call givin’ wind to your no
tion.”
He proved as good as his word.
When Job Yardsley entered the circus
tent upon tho eventful evening of the
beauty competition the murmur that was
rising from the packed circle died into
sudden silence. As he seated himself in
that segment of the tiers which, red-
baize-covered, demanded the most expen-
sivo admittance, a wavering cheer rose
from the opposite benches. These, being
the lowest priced, held a freight of ir
responsible ‘boyhood. The hushing chorus
of a. multitude of mothers with 3ab-
batically dressed daughters by their sides
crushed the untimely demonstration.
Joli Yardsley gazed about him in genu
ine surprise. In whichever direction lie
turned a small sea of faces iooked into
ills own witli a frankly interested stare.
Job blew his nose. It seemed to him that
tlie space that separated him from his
neighbors was greater than that in other
parts of the amphitheater.
When, upon the closing of the last
turn of tlie usual programme, girls sing
ly. in twos and In throes, shyly entered
the ring in preparation for the contest
Job’s heart beat perceptibly faster. A
couple of score girls were there below—
dark, fair, short, tall One—he wondered
which—was destined to enter his life in
tho most intimate fashion.
The judges entered. Job started a little
as he observed them. He had expected a
more widely representative body, it con
sisted of Mr. Blinker himself in a .frock
coat and white waistcoat, the ringmaster
and the haute ec.ole rider, tlie two latter
still in the professional splendor of the
arena. After a pause a fourth figure
hurried to join the group. He wore an
olive-green costume with gold-strlpea
trousers. Job. gazing more intently,
could perceive that it was the clown—un-
clowned.
Blinker mounted one of the whlte-paint-
ecl pedestals that were wont to support
tlie hoop-holders. The other three sur
rounded him, perched on less elevated
structures. In another moment the judg
ing had begun.
Job’s heart beatar 'fashcr yet. He
glanced nervously at the (four men. The
issue was in their hands. And such an
issue! Upon it depended his and the
Maypole's fate. He awoke to the fact
that lie was repeating an inane Jingle—
Elizabeth, Jane, Violet; which? Eliza
beth, Jane, Violet; which?
He wiped a damp forehead.
He found himself eagerly. scanning tlie
faces of the girls who, rejected and
flushed, hurried bank to their seats.
With still greater anxiety his eye sought
out those who remained. Their number
had been weeded down to six. Tbey-
stood in two groups of three.
Job gazed upon the first three. He
liad not miscalculated- Elizabeth Hnr
mer. Jane Askew, and Violet Budden
made up tho trio. In the midst of his
triumph he knew a moment of anxiety.
Elizabeth Harmer, overcome at the last
moment, had stuffed her handkerchief
Into her mouth. She was concealing her
best feature, her chin.
The ringmaster, the clown, and the
haute ecole rider descending from their
pedestals entered into conversation with
the three, pairing off one with each. Job
noticed a (Startled look on the face of
each of the girls. Then they- began to
giggle. The gallant performers looked
perfectly at home.
A shout from a small boy among tlie
audience broke silence.
“What are you doin' there, Sally Ma-
gin?" it called.
Job's eyes turned upon the other trio
of girls. Sally Magin. a snub-nosed,
freckle-faced, prominent-eared virgin, was
the nearest to him. The other two were,
but little better favored. Job wonder
ed whether a “booby prize” had been in
cluded.
Sally Magin turned a flaming face to
ward her agressor.
“If that's Tommy Burn that said that,
his sister was outed first round,” she
called back vindictively.
Sally Magin had a temper.
Further discussion was arrested by a
loud call for silence from Mr. Blinker.
A dead hush fell. Job turned a 'last
glance toward Elizabeth Harmer and her
two companions. His bosom swelled.
Never before bad he realized how pretty
they were. As each listened to a whis
pering cavalier, a blush mantled six
cheeks.
M.r. Blinker, after clearing his throat,
began:
“The judging -being now concluded, la
dles and gentlemen. It is my honorable
duty to present the valuable prizes. The
first prize is here—you can see it for
yourselves—a red and white striped
'blouse. The first prize, ladies and gen
tlemen, has been awarded with one voice
—in fact, I might say magnanimously—
to,” here lie raised his voice, “to one
whom I will call the Belle of tho Ring.
The fortunate lady Is Miss Sally Magin.”
After a stunned moment of silence a
roar went up that shook the canvas roof.
But Job scarcely hep£il it. He felt sud
denly faint. His eyes wandered from
Sally Magin’s face, about tlie ring, then
back to Sally Magiifs face. She was
smiling—directly at him.
The drama of the moment had inspired
a gang of young men. leaning Into tlie
arena they began to lead the prize-winner
toward the spot where Job cowered.
Blouse in hand she came, while the oc
cupants of the cheaper seats rocked and
swayed in open mirth.
In the meanwhile the two girls who
had stood at her side received a hair
comb and. a straw hat respectively. But
the presentation was unnoticed. Another
shout went up as Sally Magin sank down
by the side of Job.
Job, with deeply flushed face, sprang
to his feet. Utter silence fell once more.
Job wavered. The stupendous hush had
unnerved him. He sank down, and the
sinking sealed his fate.
A minute later Sally's arm was through
his. Her eyes sought first the blouse,
then Job, while the crowd thundered ac
clamation. Only when it realized that
Mr. Blinker had not completed his an
nouncements did the turmoil cease.
“We have now come, ladies and gen-
Continued on Fourth Page.
ed, and paying tlie cabman, walked hur
riedly through the narrow archway, and
up the long circular stei;s that led into
the gloomy house.
The years .since last the man had en
tered there h'ad been filled , with paternal
joys With Desiree and Madame Le Fie
he hn ( i traveled the world over. With
each succeeding year he had discovered
new beauties in his child, and never had
she a wish that was not fulfilled by him.
Also with each year had his influence
in the world of science widened an c i when
the plague, broke out in the panic-striek-
en city and he realized the danger of h!s
child who had of recent years made her
home with her grandmother in New Or
leans. he hastened there, with a wonder
ful theory for exterminating the disease,
an,j tlie hope of saving Desiree from the
plague.
Of her mother, Desiree knew nothing.
Dr. Alston would not permit her name
to be. mentione-d, and only once had
Madame Le Pre carried Desiree into her
little prayer room where t’he candies
burned on the clean white altar and un
veiled a beautiful 'portrait which hung
on the wall.
“It is your mother,” she whispered, sad
ly. “Her name was Delpthine.”
“Of what did she die?” questioned the
child.
"If only I was certain that she was
dead!” said Madam Le Pre under her
breath, and then she led Desiree out of
the t'oom.
It was a beautiful face upon which
she had feasted her hungry ej es. A
face all blossoms and snow, all dimples
and curves. And after that, Desiree
insisted upon living in the old home,
dreaming of the days when Delphine
played beneath the myrtle boughs or
counted her beads in the clean little
prayer room that Madame Le Pre held
so sacred.
So the years of her young ladyhood
were passed in the French quarter be
hind the solemn looking gate, with Le
Grande and the Stay company a bright
and wealthy young girl is apt ’o dra.v
about lier.
The plague had overtaken the city-
before Desiree and Le Grande were ready
to leave, and then, fearing for the
safety of her beloved, and wishing to
put his theory to the test. Dr. Alston
hastened to North Carolina.
An ominous silence brooded over the
place as he entered the • door, and see
ing no one astir, he called softly to his
daughter. Her name was echoed on
the darkness. Again he called, pushing
open as he did so the doors of the li
brary.
“Entrcz,” called a voice softly, a voice
that sent a« thrill through the man.
“Delphine! You!” He exclaimed stern
ly. confronting the occupant.
“Yes. Even me.”
“Why did you return?”
MMy mother is dead.”
"And our child?”
“Your child, John Alston, Is well, and
awaits your coming,” said Delphine,
drawing herself up scornfully.
"Does she know?” asked Alston, bit
terly.
"Site does not. I passed myself ofr
as an old friend to whom Madame Le
Pre had been very kind. No one in
tlie city knows that tlie quiet Red Cross
nurse is 'Fenfoliot,' the -danseuse! Tlie
outcast! The scarlet woman! Nor shall
Desiree, your child, ever know. she
shall not have tho currents of her pure
ytoung life stained by the crimson tide
of my own. I am here as a nurse. I
shall not return to 'the world, but go
in a few days to a life cf atonement.
I am signed for the lepers' island as
nurse.”
John Alton looked wonderlngly upon
the speaker. Her face was still beau
tiful with a delicacy of outline that be
spoke weary watching and ill health.
He was touched by her fragility.
“Delphine, before we part again. I
would ask you a question. Why did
you leave m e in the first year of our
marriage? Where did you go?”
“You have the right to know, now that
you ask. I left you because I loved
you. I could not bear to divide you
with your science, and in my capricious
and ignorant youth I ran away and
went upon the stage. When the child
was born I was with my motner, Dut
as soon as possible I ran away again,
lest you should return and find me. I
went to the depth of degradation and
was soon lost in the maelstrom of sin
and poverty. Then there came a time
when my fortune improved. I became
the celebrated Fenforlelt of Paris. Long
ing for a sight of home, with a heart
breaking of its own wilfulness, I came
back just In time to see my mother
die. She knew me, and blessed me
at the end. Desire f has no intimation
of the relation I beat to ner. She shall
never know that tlie past of her mother
runs crimson with stain.”
"But she does know, and she loves you.
mother.” said Desiree suddenly entering
through the screen and layins her face
against the Red Gross nurse.
Delphine turned a frightened, question
ing glance to John Alston.
"Will you rameain?”. asked Alston.
"Say yes, dear mother," urged Desiree.
“As my wife,” said John Alston.
“And my mother,” added Desiree.
Suddenly a parting ray from the wes
tern sun shot through the window and
lay on the woman, glorifying her frag
ile beauty and seeming to lay as a
benediction upon her.
"I will remain,” she said softly.
