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EIGHT
The Land of Broken Promises
■■■■= ■■ - -By DANE COOLIDGE
A Stirring Story of the
Mexican Revolution
A «tory of border Mexico, vivid,
Intense, such as has never before
been written, Is this one of Ameri
can adventurers Into the land of
manana. Texan, mining engineer,
Spanish senor and senorita, peon,
Indian, crowd Its chapters with
clear-cut word pictures of busi
ness, adventure and love, against
a somber background of wretched
armies marching and counter
marching across a land racked by
revolution and without a savior.
(Continued from Yesterday.)
Ttut as Tils gaze swept the length of
the vino-covered corredor It halted for
a moment and a slow smile came over
Tits fßce. In the green depths of a
passion-flower vino he hud detected
a quick, blrdliko motion; and then
suddenly, like a transformation acene,
he beheld a merry fare, framed and
vi«' ; !K 'i 1 ' :'iil!
it" l 'Hr i
It Was a Merry Company, Indeed.
Illuminated by soft, golden lochs, peer
Inn out at him from among the blos
soms. Except for that brief smile he
made no firm that ho saw her, and
when ho looked tip again the face had
disappeared.
Hon cipriano thawed (hem about hlB
plant, where his men kept u
continual stream of liquid lire running
from tho copper worm, and gave pncli
a raw drink; but though He I-nnoey
gated admiringly at the house and
praised the orange trooe that hung
over the garden wall, Spanish hospi
tality could go no further, and the vlalt
ended In a series of udioaes and much*
as graclasea.
‘Quick work!" commented Phil, as
they rode toward the mine; “the old
man has got over his grouch."
"Urn.” mused Hud. with a quiet,
brooding smile; and the next time he
rode Into town he looked for tbe
masked face among the flowers and
emiled again. That was the wav Gra
cia Aragon affected them all.
He did not point out tho place to
Phil, nor betray her by any sign. All
he did wae to glance at her once and
then ride on his way, but somehow his
heart stood still when he met her
eye*, and his days became filled with
a pensive, brooding melancholy.
"What tho matter. Hud?” rallied
Phil, after he had jollied him for a
week; “you're getting mighty quiet
lately. Got another hunch—like that
one yon had up at Agua NegraT"
"Nope," grinned Bud; "but I'll tell
Von one thing—ls old Aragon don’t
•prtng something pretty soon I'm go
ing to get uneasy. Ho’s too dog-goned
good-natured about this."
"Maybe he thinks we're stuck,“ sug
gested De Lancey.
"Well, he's awful happy about some
thing,” said Bud. ”1 can see by the
way he droops thst game eye of his—
and smiles that way—that he knows
■we’re working for him. If we don’t
get a title to this mine, every tsp of
work we do on it Is all to the good
for him. that's a cinch. 80 sit down
tiow and think It out—where's the
Joker T"
"Well," mused Phil, “the gold Is
hero somewhere. He knows we’re not
tooled there. And he knows we’re
right after It, the way we're driving
this oat In. Our permit Is good—he
hasn't tried to buffalo Mender—and
It's a cinch he cant denounce the
claim himself.” —-
“Maybe he figures on letting us do
all the work and pay all the denounce
ment fees and then spring something
big on old One-Eye,” propounded Bud.
"Scare 'lm up or buy 1m off, and have
him transfer the title to him. That's
the way he worked Kruger,"
"Well say," urged Phil, "let's go
ahead with our danouncament before
he starts something. Besides, the
warm weather Is coming on now, and
If we don't gst a move on we're likely
to get run out by tho ravoltcfbsJ’
,r ßope,” Bald Bud; "1 don’t put this
Into Mendez's hands until I know he’s
our man —and If I ever do go ahead I'll
keep him under my six-shooter until
the last paper Is signed, believe mo. I
know we're In bad somewhere, but
hurrying up won't help none,
“Now I tell you what we'll do—you
j go to the mining agent and gel, copies
of all our papere and send them up to
that Gadsden lawyer. I'm going to go
1 down and board with Mendez and sea
I If I can read his heart’
So they separated, and while Phil
stayed In town to look over the rec
ords Bud ate his beans and tortillaa
with the Mendez family.
They were a happy little family,
comfortably Installed In the stone
house that Mendez had built, and rap
idly getting fit on three full meals a
day: From his tent farther up* the
canyon Bud could look down and
watch the children at play and see the
comely Indian wife as she cooked by
the upon Are.
Certainly no one could be more In
nocent and contented thnn she was,
and El Tuerto was all bows and pro
testations of gratitude. And yet, you
never can tell. «
Bud had moved out of the new house
to furnish quarter* for El Tuerto and
had favored bun In every way; but
this name consideration might easily
lie misinterpreted, for the Mexicans
uiojdow to understand kindness.
80. while on the one hand he had
treated them generously, he had al
ways kept, nis distance, lest they be
tempted to presume. But now, with
Phil In town for a few days, he took
his meals with Maria, who was too
awed to say a word, and made friends
| with the dogs and the children.
The way to the dog's heart, was onay,
almout. direct, and he finally won the
attention of little i’anoho and Josefa
with a well-worn Sunday supplement
| Thla gaudy Institution, with its Hplcy
I stories and startling illustrations, had
penetrated even to the wilds of Sonora,
1 and every Sunday as regularly as the
iwper cane Bud sat down and had hli
i laugh ova the funny page.
I But to Pancho, who was six years
j old and curioiiß, this sumo highly col
i ored sheet was a mystery of mysteries,
and when he saw the big Aiuerioan
i laughing he crept up and looked at It
wistfully.
I "Mira,' said Bud. laying his finger
! upon the smirking visage of one of the
comic characters, "look, and 1 will tell
you the story-"
And so, with laborious care, be
translated the colored tun, while the
I little Mcndezes squirmed with excite
ment and leaped with joy. Even the
simple coals of El Tuerto and Marla
! wer moved by the comicas, and Men
dez became so Interested that he
learned the words by heart, tho better
to explain them to others.
l)ut as for Mexican treachery. Bud
could find none of It. In fact, finding
them so simple-hearted and good-na
tured. he became half ashamed of his
early suspicions and wa!.ad for the
return of Phil to ex pi' Jon Clprl
ano'e con placency.
But the next Sunday, as Bud lay
reading In his tent, the m stery solved
Itself. Crus Mendex came up from the
house, hat In hand and an apologetlo
sir lie on his face, and after the cus
‘.omary roundabout remarks be asked
lie boss as a favor if be would lend
h'm the ps;e of comic pictures.
"seguro!" assented B id, rolltng over
and fumbling for Ibe funny sheet;
then, failing to And it Instantly, he In
quired; "What do you want It forf”
"Ah, to show to my hoy!” explained
K 1 Tuerto, his one eye lighting up v >th
pride.
"Who— rancho T”
"Ah, no. senor,” answered Mendes
s mply, "my boy In La Fortuna, the
cue yon have not seen."
Bud stopped fumbling for the paper
mid sat up suddenly. Hero was a new
light on their faithful servitor, and one
that might easily tske sway from his
value os a dummy locator.
"Oh!" he said, and then: "How
many children have you. Crust"
Cruz smiled deprecatlngly, as par
ents will, and turned away.
"By which woman?” he Inquired, and
Bud became suddenly very calm, fear
lug the worst. For If Crus was not
legally married to Maria, he could not
transfer the mining claim.
“By all of them," he said quietly.
“Five In all," returned Crux—“three
by Marla, aa you know—two by my
lint woman—and one other. Ido not
count him.”
"Well, you one-eyed old reprobated
muttered Bud In hie throat, but he
pasted It off and returned smiling to
the charge.
"Where doae your boy live now?"
he asked with flattering solicitude, the
better to make him talk, "and Is ha
old enough to undentand the plo
turoe?”
"Ah, yea!" baamed Mendez, "he la
twelve yeare old. He lives with his
mother now—end my little daughter,
too. Tbelr mamma la tbe woman of
the mayordomo of the Benor Aragtfn—
a bad man. very ugly—she Is not mar
ried to him."
"But with you—" suggested Bud, re
dbjtkrs him with a mcfir stare. _
Author of
“THE FIGHTING FOOL,” “HIDDEN WATERS,"
“THE TEXICAN," Etc.
Illustrations by DON J. LAVIN
(Copyright, 1911. bv Frank A. Munsey.)
"Only by the Judge!” exclaimed
Mendez virtuously. “It was a love
match. and the priest did not come —
bo we were married by the judge.
Then this bad mayordomo stole her
away from me—the pig—and I mar
ried Maria Instead. Marla is a good
woman and I married her before the
priest—but I love my other children,
too, even though they are not lawful.”
"So you married your first wife be
fore the Judge,” observed Bud cynical
ly, "and this one before the priest. But
how could you do that, unless you bad
been divorced?”
"Ah, senor,” protested Mendez, hold
ing out his hands, “you do not under
stand. It Is only the church that can
really marry—the judge does It only
for the money. Marla Is my true wife
—and we have three nice ohildren—
but ns I am going through La Fortuna
1 should like to show the picture paper
to my boy.”
Bud regarded him In meditative si
lence, then he rose up and began a de
termined search for the funny sheet.
"All right,” he said, handing it over,
"and here is a panoche of sugar for
your little girl—the one in La Fortuna.
It is nothing,” he added, as Mendez
began his thanks.
"But oh, you marrying Mexican,” he
continued, relapsing into his mother
tongue as El Tuerto disappeared; "you
certainly have dished us right.”
CHAPTER IX.
Not the least of the causes which
have brought Mexico to the brink of
the abyss is the endless quarrel be
tween church and state, which has al
most destroyed the sanctity of mar
riage and left, besides, a pitiful her
itage of deserted women and father
less children as Its toll.
Many an honest laborer has peoned
himself to pay the priest for bis mar
riage. only to be told that it Is not
legal In o eyes of the law; snd many
another, married by the judge, has
been gravely informed by the padre
that the woman Is ouly his mistress,
and the children born out of wedlock.
So that now, to be sure that she is
wedded, a woman must be married
twice, and many a couple, on account
of the prohibitive fees, are never mar
ried at all.
Cruz Mendez was no different from
the men of his class, and he believed
honestly that he was married to tbe
comely Maria; but Hooker could have
enlightened him on that point If he
had cared to do It.
Bud was playing a game, with the
Eagle Tall mine for a stake; and, be
ing experienced at poker, he stood pat
nud studied his hand. Without doubt
Mendex had lost his usefulness as a
locator of the mine, since Maria was
not his legal wife and could not sign
tlie transfer papers as such. Accord
ing to tho law of the land, the woman
now living with Aragon's mayordomo
was the "legitimate” wife of the con
tract, and she alone could release title
to the nitne once Mendez denounced
the claim.
But Mendez had not yet denounced
the claim—though for a period of
some thirty days yet he had the ex
'elusive privilege of doing so -and Bud
did not Intend that he snould.
Meanwhile they must walk softly,
leaving Aragon to atill hug the delu
sion that he would soon, through his
mayordomo, have them in his power—
and when the full sixty days of Cruz
Mendez's mining permit had expired
they could locate the mine again.
But how—and through whom? That
was the question that Bud was study
ing upon when Phil rode up the trail,
and In his abstraction bo barely re
turned Ills gay greeting.
“Well, cheer up, old top!” cried De-
Lancey, throwing his bridle-reins to
' the ground and striding up to the tent.
“What ho, let down the portcullis, me
I lord seneschal! And cease your vain
I repining. Algernon—our papers are all
j O. K. and the lawyer says to go ahead.
I But that Isn't half the news! Say, we
had a dance up at the hotel last night
and 1 met —"
"Yes—sure you did," broke In Bud;
! "but listen to this!” And he told him
of El Tuerto* matrimonial entangle
ments.
“Why, the crooked devil!" exclaimed
I>e Lancey, leaping up at the finish,
j "Oyes! Mendez!”
"Don't say a word." warned Bud,
springing to the tent door to intercept
hint, »or you’ll put ua out of busltiesst
j It Is nothing," he continued In Spanish
as Mendez came out of his house, "but
put Don Felipe's horse In tbe corral
! when he Is cool."
“ V BI, senor—with great pleasure!”
smirked Mendea, running to get the
I horse, and after he had departed Bud
! turned back and shook his head.
“We can't afford to quarrel with Mr.
Mendez." he aaid; "because If Aragon
ever gets hold of him we'r* ditched.
Jest let everything run on like we'd
overlooked something until the sixty
days arc up—then, If we get away
with It, well locate the min* our*
selves."
"Yes; but how?"
"Well, they * two ways," returned
Bud; "either hunt up another Mexican
cltlsen or turn Mexican ourselves."
"Turn Mexican U’ shrUbd I'M!, and
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA. GA.
then he broke down and laughed.
"Well, you're a great one, Bud,” he
chortled; "you sure are!”
"I come down here to get this mine,”
said Bud laconically.
’“Yes, but you're a Texan—or waß
one!”
"That makes no difference,” an
swered Bud stoutly. "The hot weather
Is coming on—revolution is likely to
begin any time—and there ain't a sin
gle Mexican we can trust. Jest one
more break now and we lose out —now
how about It?”
"Who’s going to turn Mexican?”
questioned De Lancey, “you or me?”
“Well —I will, then!”
"No, you won't, either!” cried Phil,
forgetting his dhnny shrewdness. ‘Til
do it myself! I’m half Mexican al
ready, I’ve been eating chili so long!”
"Now here," began Bud, "listen to
me. I’ve been thinking this over all
day and you jest heard about it. The
man that turns Mexican is likely to
get mixed up with the authorities and
have to skip the country, but the other
feller Is in the other way—he’s got to
stay with the works till hell freezes
over.
"Now you’re an engineer and you
know how to open up a mine—l don’t.
So, If you say so. I’ll take out the pa
pers and you hold the mine—or if you
want to you can turn Mex.”
“Well,” said De Lancey, his voice
suddenly becoming soft and pensive,
“I might as well tell you, Bud, that
Pm thinking of settling In this coun
try, anyway. Of course, I don’t look
at Aragon the way you do —I think
you are prejudiced and misjudge him
—but ever since I’ve known Gracia
rve—”
“Gracia 1” repeated Bud; and then,
stirred by some great and unreasoning
anger, he rose up and threw down his
hat pettishly. “I’d think, Phil,” he
muttered, "you’d be satisfied with all
the other girls In the world without—”
"Now here!” shouted Phil, rising as
nnreasoningly to his feet, "don’t you
say auother word against that girl, or
I’ll—"
"Shut your mouth, you little
shrimp!" bellowed Bud, wheeling upon
him menacingly. “You seem to think
you’re the only man In the world
that—”
“Oh. slush. Bud!” cried Phil In dis
gust, “you don’t mean to tell me you're
In love with Gracia too!”
“Who —me?” demanded Hooker, his
face suddenly becoming fixed and
masklike; and then he laughed hoarse
ly In derision and Bank down on the
bed.
Certainly, of the two of them, he
was the more surprised at his sudden
outbreak of passion; and yet when the
words were spoken he was quick to
know that they were true.
Undoubtedly, In his own way, he
was in love—but he would never ad
mit It, that he knew, too. So he sank
down on the blankets and swore harsh
ly, while De Lancey stared at him in
unfeigned surprise.
"Well, then,” he went on, taking
Bud’s answer for granted, “what’re
you making such a row about? Can’t
I go to a dance, with a girl without
you jumping down my throat?"
“W’y, sure you can!” rumbled Bud,
now hot with a new Indignation; "but
after getting me to go Into this deal
against my will and swearing me to
some damn-fool pledge, the first thing
you do Is to make friends with Aragon
and then make love to his daughter. Is
that your idea of helping things along?
D’ye think that’s the way a pardner
ought to act? No, I tell you, It Is not!”
“Aw, Bud,” predated De Lancey
plaintively, "what’s the matter with
you ? Be reasonable, old man; I never
meant to hurt your feelings!”
"Hurt ray feelings!" echoed Hooker
scornfully. "Huh, what are we down
here for, anyway—a Sunday school
picnic? My feelings are nothing, and
they can wait; but we’re sitting on a
mine that’s worth a million dollars
mebbe—and It ain’t ours, either —and
when you throw in with old Aragon
and go to making love to his daugh
ter you know you're not doing right!
That's all there Is to It —you're doing
me and Kruger dirt!”
"Well, Bud,' said De Lancey with
mock gravity, *lf that's the way you
feel about It I won't do It any more!”
'A wish you wouldn’t,” breathed Bud,
raising his head his bands; "It
sure wears me out, Phil, worrying
about It.”
"Well, then. 1 won’t do it," protested
Phil sincerely. “So that’s settled —now
who's going to turn Mexican citizen?”
"Suit yourself," said Bud listlessly.
*TU match you for It!” proposed De
Lancey, diving into his pocket for
money.
"Don’t need tq," responded Bud;
"you can do what you please."
“No; I'll match you!” persisted Phil.
“That was the agreement—whenever
it was an even break we'd let the
money talk. Here's your quarter—and
If I match yon I'll become the Mexi
can citizen. AH set? Let 'er go!”
He flipped the coin Into the air and
caught It In his hand.
(To Be Cjatinued Tomorrow.)
USE HERALD WANT ADS
The Love of His Youth
“What is Your Name?” He Asked Huskily. And Scarcely
Above a Whisper Came the Answer, “Ursula Grant.” He
Drew Her to Him With a Startled Cry, and His Arm
Went Around Her. “Ursula,” He Cried* “You’ve Listened
to My Story; Tell Me Do You Forgive Me?”
"Puffing Billy” lay by the side of the
twisted rails a mass of wreckage, and
what had one short hour ago been a
trobbing giant of the iron .track was
now fit for no fate higher than that of
the scrap-heap. Over-turned carriag
es with smashed windows and buck
led bodies kept "Puffing Billy” com
pany in the scene of desolation, and
station officials, railway servants of
every degree, and a small crowd of
anxious townspeopde rushed here and
there to render aid to the wounded.
Iron nerves were needed for the sad
dening task, and many a strong man
turned aside sick with horror as
ghastly sights were revealed beneath
the debris.
Someone would be called to book for
the horrible loss of life—-someone had
blundered when the 5:15 express had
thundered down tile way with "line
clear," only to tear into tne market
train which should have passed the
points a good fifteen minutes earlier.
Dr. Watson, the sure-handed, clev
er-headed surgeon of Wonford, started
when a light touch fell on his arm. He
was kneeling at the moment over an
other of the many victims, and his
heart had tightened at his own help
lessness.
He looked up to find a woman's
tear-filled eye looking down on the
mangled body which he had just pro
nounced beyond his aid.
"Ah! It's Nurse Ursula!”
He got up then and passed his hand
over his forehead. He’s beyond me,
poor fellow,” he murmureJ. "Oh, why
does God allow such horrors?”
Nurse Ursula . touched his arm
again. “Come,” she said. “I think you
can save one. We have just rescued
him. He was pinned beneath a first
class compartment. He’s had a hor
rible blow, but he's alive, and there ap
pears to be no bones broken.”
At once, the doctor, dazed by the
horrors he had seen, became the alert
surgeon. Following the neat little fig
ure in nurses’s bonnet and cloak, he
met the stretcher borne by two por
ters. on which the battered body lay.
“To the waiting-room, Brown,” he
ordered, and his professional eye took
in details as they proceeded slowly to
carry out his instruction.
Nurse Ursula walked with them, and
as they went, the doctor told her his
conclusions.
“He had a mash on the head, poor
fellow. "This is going to be a critical
case, nurse. God! How I wish we’d a
hospital. That waiting-room may be
his death chamber; and who can say
how long he’ll have to stay there.
Doesn't look to me as if he’ll De moved
-even if I save him—for many long
weeks.”
Ursula came round the stretcher.
“Doctor,” he said quickly. "Wouldn’t
my cottage be better? Han't they take
him there? We’ll never save him if he
must lie in a waiting-room that vi
brates with every sound.”
"Do you mean it?”
Ursula nodded.
Bo new orders were given, and soon
the patient—now babbling incoherent
ly—was lying in the front parlor of an
old-fashioned house, five minutes’ walk
from the scene of the disaster Dr.
Watson's steady hands overhauled
him, and in a few curt sentences he
had stated his hurt.
“A nasty hit, nurse; a ticky job! One
fraction more and the splinter would
have pierced the brain. Are you ready?
Nerves like steel, eh?”
Ursula's eyes were bright. She had
watched Dr. Watson pull many a man
back from the borderland before today,
and she had unbounded faith in his
skill. She scarcely breathed as the
deft fingers Used the instruments she
handed to him. There were «iny beads
of moisture round the doctor's nose,
but the hands were steady, and Nurse
Ursula knew from the (mini set of the
man’s lips that he meant to save one
at least, of the victims of carelessness.
When, later, the shining knives had
gone back into their cases, and the pa
tient lay stretched out on the Impro
vised bed, there w'as time for conjec
ture.
FirHt-rlass. did you say he was?”
asked Dr. Watson. “Wonder who he
is. Somebody waiting for him some
where. no doubt. Perhaps his clothes
wil give us a clue.”
A few seconds later the doctor
whistled softly, “llu.lley Drummond,
by Jove!” And in his astonishment he
never noticed that little Nurse Ursula
had gone strangely white. The look
he caught in her eyes he took for sur
VERY SUCCESSFUL “SMALL
DANCE”
ws——
nH & jUI
I * * I
It ._y , I
w rwni - * ft
Mrs. Francis H, Leggett.
London.— Mrs. Francis H. Leggett
of New York, has just given a very
successful party for her prettv voting
daughter, Frances. It was intended
to be a small affair, but the hostess
has so many friends her she found It
It proved to be tne smartest "jmnll
dance” of the season. Although the
house Is not large, It is charming. The
china is notable and the tables full
of valuable old gold, and silver orna
ments form the decorations o? the
drawing room. lighted on this ucm
ion w Ith real wax ... ,
prise at his announcement. For th'e
name of Dudley Drummond was
known even in Wonford. It was a name
with which men juggled when big
things were on the tapis. Dudley
Drummond has caused mighty fluc
tuations In the money market during
the last ten of his forty years; he had
crushed, many a struggling company
like an egg-shell in his hand; through
him men had risen to dizzy heights of
fortune, or sunk to a suicide's grave;
his name had made hearts quake and
eyes gleam. And Dudley Drummond
lay helpless now in Nurse Ursula's lit’
tie parlor, and the country surgeon
looked upon his bandaged head wifb
pardonable pride.
"There's no telling how long you
may have to keep him, nurse,” he
murmured. But I guess if he comes
round all right he'll thank us—-eh?
I’ll send Paterson down to help with
the nursing—you know she’s all right.
We needn’t trouble about London
nurses if you and Paterson will under
take the job.
‘‘l’ll sit up tonight,” said Nurse
Ursula softly, "and tomorrow we’ll
see.”
“I'll be round first thing,” said the
doctor. “And now I’ll be going back
to tile station. There may be some
thing to do; but Savage was pretty
despondent. I’ve never seen such a
hopeless, horrible slaughter in my life.
But thank God, we’ve saved one.”
Left alone, the woman crossed
quickly to the bandaged figure, and
stood looking down at her patient.
“So you’ve come back to me at last,
Dudley,” she whispered very low, then
bent her head as the man’s Ups moved.
“Goldstein's after them! I’ll smash
him! Run them up spread the
report, Jackson no! the Kim
berley lot a clear two thousand.
Hold on to Wallygally shares ”
The voice died away, and the woman
knelt down, watching the face of the
man who, in his delirium, was direct
ing the marts of mammon.
Presently he began again, and this
time his ravings were of other things.
"It's empty—empty—there’s nothing
in it lonely, what’s this? Oh, go
away! You beautiful devil—you—”
There was a gurgle in his throat, and
his face contracted; then with a
shriek he screamed: “Ursula! Ursula!”
The watching woman held the two
hands that feebly beat the bedclothes.
Her touch calmed him, and soon his
face ceased working, and the weary
brain was at peace. But as the night
went on the quiet of the cottage was
often broken by the man’s babblings,
and when the morning dawned Nurse
Ursula’s eyes held knowledge in their
depths, and the knowledge made a
glow to steal rot 1 her kindly heart.
"Been talking'.' 1 asked Dr. Watson.
“He’s rambled a lot.” she answered;
"sometimes it was business and some
times about people.”
Paterson came later, and Ursula
took a much-needed sleep. So the
days passed, and the night watch saw
the grey-eyed soft-voiced woman ten
derly holding the hands of the rest
less patient, and calming him by her
touch.
The day on which consciousness
dawned brought worry to the doctor.
The sun was shining when Dudley
Drummond spoke for the first time
with his natural voice.
"Who’s there?” was his first query.
The doctor and Ursula were talking
quietly by the doorway, and both
turned towards the bed.
The man was raising himself and
staring straight before him. Dr. Wat
son went up to him, and in quiet tones
told him to lie still and not disturb the
bandages.
"You’ve been ill —very ill—my dear
Mr. Drummond. But you're through
the wood now. We're going to pull
you round.”
The man grunted.
"Switch on the light, then. I hate
this beastly blackness."
Both doctor and nurse started. Each
Instinctively sought the other’s eyes,
and Ursula's formed a mute query.
There was silence for a full min
ute, broken at last by the patient’s
querulous; "why can't you give me
some light!”
Dr. Watson pulled himself together.
A moment he hesitated. The task be
fore him was no pleasant one. “Men
do not light lamps in the daylight,”
was what he remarked.
Dudley Drummond looked puzzled
‘‘What do you mean? Who are you?
Turn on the switch. I say, or I'll get
out and find it myself!”
> Then the doctor sat down and calm
ly held the patient’s hand. Slowly he
began the story of the accident, and
gradually brought the tale to the day
and the time. “It is now ten o’clock
in the morning," he finished, and left
the truth to sink in.
The man hold on to his hand with a
grip of steel. “Tell me the truth, ha
gasped. “Am I—am I blind? Oh, this
horrible darkness!”
In a few minutes he had roused him
self. Fiercely he demanded that spe
cialists should be sent for—that money
should not be spared—that everything
must be done to endeavor to bring
back that which was lost. And Dr.
Watson, to whom the ugly truth was
as great a shock as to the patient him
self, did his best. Many dollars were
earned in the hours that followed, but
to no purpose. Sir .Edward Strange
spoke learnedly, and his confreres
agreed, but little hope was held out for
Dudley Drummond. It remained for
Nurse Ursula to break the news. She,
it was, who soothed him, but the voice
which she used to her patient was not
the voice that the villagers knew and
loved so well.
So the days passed. Under the gen
tle ministrations of Wonford's "angel
lady,” Dudley Drummond slowly re
gained health and strength and reach
ed resignation. On a day that saw him
sitting near Ursula's window In ths
spring sunshine, she sewing busily by
his side, he thanked her for the first
time for her care. It had been hard
for Dudley Drummond to think of any
thing but his own trouble until now.
"Do you know, nurse,” h« said,
"sometimes your voice reminds m*
strangely of someone I used to know.
I'd like to tell you about her. She was
my first love and—if she could but
know It —my only one. I loved her as
a young man does love in the early days
of his manhood. We were very happy,
and Ursula had promised to marry me
when the daffodils bloomed. They were
her favorite flower, and she wanted our
wedding to be hii Easter wedding. You
know how women plan things. The
church was to be decorated with daffo
dils. Ursula was an artistic soul, and
she'd get her own way in anything,
too Bab! it makes me sick even now
to think that I was such a fool as to
lose her. tloil only knows what she
might have made of me If the uthet
WEDNESDAY. JUNE 17.
woman hadn’t come on the scene.
There generally is another woman,
nurse. The eternal triangle, you know
—either two men and a woman, or
two women and one man. All the
matrimonial muddles, lovers’ quarrels,
and the miseries allotted to us poor
mortals, seem based upon that trian
gular beginning. Three's always a
dangerous number, nurse, and it’s time
we recognized it.”
He waited for a moment, then went
on: “That last Christmas —’ninety-
seven, I believe it was —was when the
triangle affected me. The other wo
man came into our lives then. She
was a witch—a beautiful devil in the
guise of woman —and she set herself
to ruin my life. I can see her green
eyes even now, and the (laming lights
in her hair. Aye, nurse, but the devil’s
too much for a man when Jie comes in
the form of a woman. Isabella Moor
roused the worst in me. She traded on
the brute nature that lies in every
man, and—under her spell—l forgot
for a while, the girl who had promised
to be my wife. We went away. When
the madness turned to loathing—as it
was bound to do in time —I thought
again of Ursula. But disgust for my
self held me back, and I threw my
self into the business of money-mak
ing No other woman has entered my
life —I kept myself clean after that —
but the money-madness came upon me,
and I’ve been a slave to the golden
wheel for the last fourteen years.”
Nurse Ursula was breathing heavily,
and her sewing lay unheeded in her
lap.
"What do you think of my tale,
nurse?” the man went on. “A lot of
good will my millions do me, eh? You
good women take little truck of
money, I know. But I wish —I wash
I could somehow let Ursula have some
of mine. I guess she’s married now.
She was a pretty girl. She’ll be thir
ty-five and a bonny woman, no doubt,
with smaller Ursulas.”
His face twitched, and the woman
was tempted to soothe him in her gen
tle way. But she could not trust her
self.
"Ursula as a mother!” the man was
saying, softly. “Some man has gath
ered the jewel I threw away in my
madness.”
A silence followed, broken at last by
the man. “Talk to me, nurse, send
these maddening thoughts away. It’ll
be awful now." There’s nothing to do
to drown remorse—nothing but this
horrible emptiness and blackness.”
So Ursula began to soothe him.
"Nurse!” broke in the man. “It puz
zles me. Your voice—your voice is
like Ursula’s. Who are you?”
He was sitting forward, and his
groping hand touched hers and grap
ped it.
“What is your name?” he asked
huskily. ,
And scarcely above a whisper cams
the answer.
"Ursula Grant.”
He drew her to him. with a strangled
cry, and his arm went round her.
"Ursula! Ursula!” he cried. “You’ve
listened to my story, and your voice
is kind. Tell me, quickly, is it that you
forgive me?”
Ursula was but thirty five, and at
thirty-five a woman may be sentimen
tal. She put her disengaged arm round
his neck, and her voice was very
tremulous as she whispered: “For
giveness thrives in Love’s Garden,
dear, and my love has been waiting a
long time.”
Even a blind man may find a'■wo
man’s lips, so Dudley Drummond
found Ursula's.
“That accident was not „ the catas
trophe it seemed as far as I was con
cerned,” said Dudley later. “I've heard
that love is blind, little woman, but l
never thought I'd find love though
blindness.”
AND THEY WERE BROTHERS.
(Chicago Inter-Ocean.)
Clifford Barnes, of the Sunday Even
ing Club, was leaving his affice in the
Otis building when he encountered in
the hallway two little pickaninnies,
evidently one of the sub-janitor's chil
dren.
“What’s your name?” he demanded
of the oldest of them.
“My name,” replied the little fellow,
“is Hubert Gladstone St. Ignatius
Brown.”
"And your brother’s name?” asked
Barnes.
"His narfie am jes Pieface.”
A tourist once hapened to meet the
usual “oldest inhabitant" of a village. In
the course of conversation he asked the
ancient how old he was:
“I be Jus a hundred,” was the reply.
‘ ‘Well. I doubt if you'll see another
hundred years,” said the tourist, trying
to make conversation.
“I don’t know so much about that,
master,” was the hopeful response. "I
be stronger now that when I started on
my first hundred.”—Exchange.
"Well,” mused 6-year-old Harry, as
he was being buttoned into a clean
white suit, "this has been an exciting
week, hasn’t it, mother? Monday we
went to the Zoo, Wednesday I lost a
tooth, Thursday was Lily’s birthday
party, Friday I was sick, yesterday I
had my hair cut; and now here I'm
rushing off to Sunday school!”—Lip
pincott’s.
GET UNIQUE GIFT
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