JUNB.
Aa world wear on to afternoon
orchard shadow's thick and boon)
X am Mar daughter, Princess Jane.
Park pansy-flowers and sops-ln-wlne
Are withering In this crown of mine;
I am naif earth and half divine.
Red rosea In my bosom swoon.
And what although they die so soon?
Rosea were meant to die with June,
THE POISONERS.
I.
The fires which had wrapped the
Place de Greve in a crimson mantle,
and sent Lavolsln and Lavleoreux to
their last account, had been burned out
for many doors. Not even the ashes
were left to tell the tale of the awful
end of those two old hags whose poison
vials had sent to sleep so many scores
of Inconvenient husbands.unloved wives
and pestering mistresses. But If the
take was now cool and inert, waiting
silently and patiently for new victims
to devour. Paris had not yet forgotten
the sensational story of those poison
sailers. Had not their customers in
cluded some of the greatest in the land?
Did not their trial bring to light in all
its sickly terror the whole bideasuess
of this poisoning mania that was ram'
pant throughout the length and breadth
of fair France?
And as though to keep the horror or
their names and their history still
fresher in the public mind, Mile. Mol
lere had caused them to be placed In a
play, "La, Dlvineresse," the joint work
of Thomas Cornellle and Devise.
Already for three nights the theater
In the Rue Mazarine had been crowded
to excess to see this play. The well-
timed Idea of Moliere s widow was
raining livree into the treasury with a
merry Jingle that made the Comedl
nds du Roi belaud her enterprise and
Wisdom In unmeasured terms. On the
third night of the production the king
had come, with the president of the
Chambre Ardente In his train that
same Chambre Ardente which his ma
jesty had endowed with such extraor
dinary powers for the detection and
punishment of thost guilty of the prac
tice of slow poisoning.
"I like the play," Louis XIV grace
fully avowed to Mile. Moliere in the
course of the evening. "And who
knows but what it may do something
to stay this ghoulish mania which
seems to run riot among my people?"
"Or It may wipe out the Troupe Roy
ale," murmured the councillor of state,
who hated the players and envied the
favors the king showered upon them.
"These poisoners, as I know full well,
are revengeful fiends; and they will not
like your play, madame."
The king looked displeased at the
remark. Louis was in mortal fear of
himself being a victim of the mania.
A the English court it was a favorite
Joke that the king of Prance would
not eat fish because it was poison.
"Perhaps, then, we ourselves are In
danger of their revenge for daring to
punish them," he cried. "Too frighten
jnmArrl monsieur, and do yourself no
credit by raising such fears."
M. le President went a trifle pale,
Ad paler still as Louis promptly turn
ed his back upon him.
But Mile. Moliere' nature was too
light and frivolous to be impressed by
the gloomy forebodings of the council
lor, and she returned to her dressing
room so mightily pleased with the
king's kindness that she speedily for
got all about them.
The next evening she walked from
her house to the theater leisurely and
alone. The night was dark but fine,
and the air braced and frishened her.
At the threshold of the theater, as she
reached out to open the door leading to
the stage, a man suddenly stepped out
Of the shadow and thrust a note Into
her hand.
"Mile. Moliere," he said, and made to
hurry away, but the, hilt of his sword
caught in her cloak and as some one
within flung open the door the light fell
for an instant full on his face. A pale,
repulsive face, with a deep scar on the
left cheek that was how it struck her
as he hastily snatched himself free and
disappeared into the night.
In ber dressing room she opened the
letter and read:
"If 'La Dlvineresse" be played for two
more nights Lavoisin will be revenged.
There are those who will see that her
name I no longer reviled. The king
burnt her at the stake, and now you
place her on the stage to withstand
the fires of the mob's derision. Beware!
This Is no light warning. In two nights
70a must have a new play, Mile. Mo
liere, or"
The actress blanched a moment and
onrul sively grasped the arm of her
Chair; then she shrugged her shoul
ders and laughed lightly and scorn
fully. "Freycinet," she said a little later,
after scribbling a note, and Inclosing
with) It the threatening missive, "take
this at once, rreyctnet, to the Chambre
Ardente."
As the door closed upon the depart,
tag misssnier a tiny sigh of relief es
anped her, and she proceeded to make
tJst toilet ber part demanded.
tTWh that sigh her fears had ran-f-Hl
Rm slept aa souadiy and as
sssstitr that night as she had ever
CcpL BM trusted Implicitly to the
Car satd tortuous machinery of the
Ardente to, protect her, and
f SjM had otepatcneo ine leuer gave
: t asnttsr not a moment's further
Tym M was that she leaped to ber
' i ttM snUsiitlsn at surprise
1 rt tHcrrtJ ssrrant an-
J f frasm ths Cbnnv
"It Dupta."
"He la without T
"Tee, madame."
"I will see him at onca, certainly."
A moment later a tall, lean man, at
tired neatly in the soberest of colors,
stepped Into the room. He bowed and
waited until the servant had retired.
Mile. Moliere spoke first.
"You have come from the Chambre,
monsieur, about the letter I sent?"
"I have, madame."
"Am I being played with, think you,
or is it a grave matter, M. Dupln?"
He smiled somewhat sarcastically.
"There la no hoax about it, I can as
sure you. It is meant earnestly
enough, of that there can be no doubt.
But how the revenge will be attempted
we know not. It may be that a servant
will be bribed to drop some deadly cor
dial Into your food, or that a letter
steeped in some powerful poison a
poison that will permeate the pores of
the skin upon the merest touch will
be sent you; or, again, it may be that
open and violent outrage will be at
tempted. Ah, you shudder, madame,
but you know not the horrors which
are taking place day by day around us.
The Chambre knowa This mania is
spreading dally. No one is safe from
subtle attack. Death Is lingering at
our elbows all day long, and in the
most silent watches of the night."
He grew Impassioned as he spoke,
and his eyes ever and anon glistened
with excitement. But suddenly he
controlled himself, and was cool and
Inscrutable and smiling again.
You terrify me oh, you terrify
me!' tne actress exciaimeo. puiung
her hand3 to her eyes as if to shut out
the frightful vision his words had con
jured up.
'Pardon, madame, but I only wish to
show you your danger, and to impress
upon you the necessity to be watchful.
However, I think you need have little
or no fear. The Chambre has Its hands
upon your enemies, I believe, at this
very moment.
She gave a little cry of delight
"Of course," he went on, "the safest
course to adopt would be to stop the
play at once. "Will you do that?"
No; I will not do that," she replied
slowly. "It Is too great a success.
"Could you, then, identify the man
who gave you the letter?"
Yes oh, yes; I can see his face, his
horrible face, now!"
Well, then, you must help us In this
way. After the play tomgnt go 10
the Place de Greve. You will be met
there by one of our agents, who will
conduct you to one of our secret
houses In the Rue de Salnte-Croix.
There we have several men under ar
rest, and you must see them. Had the
man a scar under the left eye?"
Yes, yes a deep scar, I remember
that distinctly." .
Many men have such scars, but still
this may be the right one. You will
come, then?"
"I will. I shall see you there, mon
sieur?"
"Yes. And by the way, has any oth
er agent of the Chambre called? You
see we work secretly and hardly know
each other's plans and movements."
"No; no one else has been."
"Ah! then au revolr, madame. To
night, after the play, in the Rue de
Sainte-Crolx."
And he made obeisance and went out.
III.
Mile. Moliere was depressed and ner
vous that evening, despite ber Inherent
Inability to take most things seriously.
She thought of the words of M. Dupln,
and feared to eat, feared to go out,
feared to stay at home, feared almost
to look around, and yet kept contin
ually glancing rapidly and timidly over
her shoulder. The customary hour,
however, found her. as usual, on her
way tothe theater, thickly veiled and
cloaked. She took quite a circuitous
route, avoiding ail the quiet streets and
mixing as much as she could among
the crowd.
At the corner of the Rue Mazarine,
in her haste, she ran into a drunken
man who would have turned upon her
and struck her but for the gallant In
tervention of a passing gentleman. A
crowd collected all in a moment, as
crowds will collect, and for one brief
Instant she caught sight amid the
throng, of a face that chilled her with
fear. It was the scarred, reptile face
of the deliverer of the threatening let
ter. She would have swooned but for
the excitement buoying her up.
So the Chambre Ardente could not
have the light man under arrest, after
ail. That was her first thought was he
not uncaptured, and walking abroad?
What should she do? Perhaps, though,
she argued as she sped along, she was
mistaken In the face. There were plen
ty of scarred visages In Paris, as M.
Dupln bad said. She determined In the
end, as women will determine without
a vast amount of consideration to
keep her appointment In the Place de
Greve, but meanwhile arrived at the
theatre, she hastily scribbled a note
and dispatched It to the Chambre. It
ran thus:
"Have Just seen In the Rue Mazarine
the man who gave me the threatening
letter at least, I believe It was the
man. I will, however, come tonight
to the house In the Rue de Salnte-Crolx,
as I promised your agent, M. Dupln,
this afternoon."
rv.
The play was over and the audience
had dispersed. The streets, softly Il
lumined by a newly risen moon, were
still and deserted. Mile. Moliere, veiled
and hooded again, walked swiftly In the
direction of the Place da Oreve. As
she entered the square, recently so wUd
and lurid with tongues of hungry name
husgij far human but now so
peaceful and beautiful la the aett-
KsMr aspted a figure aa-
"CTa. UaOerar be tnarted In a deep, 1
km ram was bs
She nodded her head, -
1
Tollow me," he added.
They traversed a labyrinth of streets
and no further word was spoken until
a quarter of an hour afterward, til
man rapped gently at a house door il
a queer little street )
"This Is the rue de Salnte-Crolx,
he murmured.
The door was Instantly opened. "En
ter," he said, and madame went In,
with her atendant at her heels.
The passage was pitch dark. Shi
stood still, affrighted.
"Where am I?" she cried.
"This way this way. 'Tls all right,"
said a voice.
"Oh, Is that you, M. Dupln?"
"Yes, 'tis I, madame."
"Thank heaven! I began to fear I
had been entrapped."
A hand took hers In the darkness.
and conducted her several yards. Then
a door was openedw, and they entered
a dimly lighte room.
half laboratory,
half library.
Pray be seated, madame," said Du
pln genlaly. "I think I've settled this
affair. The Chambre Ardente knows, ,
what it is about Ha, ha, ha! I should
think so! Have some wine, first ma .
dame, before you look on the scarred, '
ugly faces of the rogues I have man
acled here. Besides, you must be ex.
hausted after your walk, and possibly
frightened, eh?"
He laughed pleasantly as he poured
her out some wine. It struck her wha!
a courtly, affable man he was.
"Drink," he said.
She emptied the goblet at a daught
for, In truth, her nerves were all In a
quiver, and replacing It on the table
looked round at her host and laughed
back at him with a well-assured confi
dence and gayety. But as her glance
fell upon him her laughter ceased. She
gazed at him first In wonderment then
aghast M. Dupln was glaring at her
fiercely.
"What is it? What Is It?" she cried,
shaking like a leaf. "What mean you?"
It seemed another being, this vindlo
tlve figure scowling down at her. Hats
and glee played hide and seek In hli
eyes. He was transformed into a ver
itable ogre.
And suddenly, as she stared at him,
petrified, he threw up his arms and
burst Into an unrestrained, demoniacal
laugh.
"You've drunk my wine. Mile. Mo-1
Here," he cried out In a moment In
measured tones, his teeth clenched, but
his voice cafm. "Let me tell you it was
poisoned."
The actress Jumped to her feet In un
rehearsed panic.
"Mon Dieul Mon Dleu!" she scream
ed. "Monsieur, what can you mean?
What have you done?" -
"You will know all soon enough H
he replied, with tantalizing precision.
"The poison takes five hours to kill.
There is time to repeat the story many,
many times." He paused a second, and
then a sudden excitement took hold of
him. "I am Levolsln's son," he cried.
"not M. Dupln, not an agent of the
Chambre Ardente Lavoison's son, the
son of the woman you have put in your j
cursed play. I loved my mother, ma
dame. I saw her burn, frizzle before
my eyes, and I laughed ay, laughed
laughed with madness and rage to
hear her old bones crackle, to see her
old flesh bake. And since then three
who sat In high places have somehow
died died quite naturally, though sud
denly. Ha, ha, ha! died through me.
through my medicine, do you under
stand? And now you will follow them.
In five hours you will fall asleep never
to waken.and no one can tell you have
been poisoned. In five hours! And no
one could help you even If you were
not safe and sound here; for I only
know the antidote which can destroy
the poison's work."
He pulled a vial out of his pocket.and
held It up In his hand, laughing again
with a frenzied delight
And, as he laughed, a hand came
through the slightly open door, and, of
a sudden, snatched the vial from hlf
fingers.
Then, like a flash. In the twinkling of
an eye, three men dashed into the room.
There was a fierce struggle for .a mo
ment or two. Strong men panted as
though In the throes of death. But It
was soon over. Pounced on unawares,
the poisoner was t(.;,dlly secured and
gagged and carried forth.
Then the leader of the newcomer
stepped up to Mile. Moliere where she
lay on the floor prostrate and uncon
scious. He chafed her hands and threw wa
ter on her forehead.
'What Is It oh, what Is it?" she
murmured In a while. "Where am I?"
"Drink this at once," he rejoined.
It Is an antidote." -She
put the bottle to her lips and
gulped Its oontents down.
"You have had a narrow escape, ma
dame," her rescuer went on, support.
Ing her In his arms. Lucky It Is you
wrote to the Chambre Ardente tonight
and mentioned the Rue de Salnte-
Crolx. We were already on the track
of the writer of the threatening letter,
and we knew It was a trap when you
mentlnoned our agent. Our agent for
sooth! But we let you keep the ap
pointment you bad made with blm In
order to effect a capture. We watched
you come Into the house, and then we
quietly went to work. We have tak
en Ave of them five, madame all In
the act of concocting vile poisons; and
the Lavoisin la the worst devil of
them all. But let me now conduct you
borne. Tonight you have done the King
soma service." Cornhlll Magaslne.
"If. she baa bad such bad luck wlU
bar husbands I don't sua why she waati
another one." "Her last husband's win,
1 think, contained a provision (hat sb4
SHORT STORIES.
LETTER OP REFUSAL.
"Well, who is it?" he asked, as the
girl seated herself on a hassock and
fixed her her eyes on him appeallngly.
"It's its Hinsdale!" she replied,
dolefully.
"Hinsdale! Why I thought we dis
posed of Hinsdale three weeks ago,
and since then let me see there was
Smith and Devereux and how many
others?"
"Oh, never mind the others," she
cried, petulantly. It's Hinsdale now.
We did dispose of him or at least
thought we had and I'm sure that let
ter I wrote "
"Ah, did you write to him, too?" he
asked, puffing a big cloud of smoke
over his sunset and watching the effect
of Its vivid hues shining through the
clouds of grayish vapor with an ar
tist's delighted appreciation of color.
"Oh, well, the letter you wrote,
then," she said. "Though I'm sure you
didn't do it all; you only helped me.'
"Oh, yes," he answered, indolently.
But Hinsdale he"s broken out again?'
"Yes; worse than eer!" and she sigh
ed dlsmaly; "and I want you to help
me write him another letter one that
j wl" understand there's no hope-no
possibility 1 mean 01 my ever ueinK
anything more to him". Here she
floundered and broke quite down.
"It's a delicate Job," he went on, re
flectively. "Are you quite sure you
mean to refuse him this time?"
"Of course I am," she burst out in
dldnantly. "You don't suppose I could
care for a boy like him, do you?"
John made no reply to this, but after
a moment's deep thought commenced
to write rapidly.
Five minutes passed, during which
John's pen scratched industriously over
the paper and Jean sat bolt upright on
her hassock, staring at the picture on
the canvas. John threw down his pen,
and she reached out her hand for the
letter.
But he did not give it to her as she
expected.
"It is a difficult thing to do," he said,
"to make a man understand that no
matter how much he cares for you,
you can never care for him."
"Ye, I suppose It is," she assented.
"But you have done it, I am sure."
"Indeed. I may sav there's only one
way to convince a fellow of such an
unpleasant fact" he went on.
"But you employed It?" She asked
eagerly.
"Yes. You may think It an extreme
measure, though. I'll read It to you."
And be read aloud
"Dear Mr. Hinsdale I thought I had
made It quite plain to you when sev
eral weeks ago you asked me to be your
wife, that such a thing was quite
impossible. I certainly tried to have
you understand It. and I deeply re
gret that I did nut succeed, because
this renewal of your offer can only re
sult In added pain to both of us. Be
lieve me, I am deeply grateful for your
nreference. but you win realize, I am
sure how 'hopeless it Is for you 'to ask
for more than my esteem when I tell
you that I am engaged to be married
to Mr. jonn ieeie. nojiins wmi j
will believe in the sincerity of my
friendship, 1 am very sincerely yours,
"JBAN CHESTER."
The silence in the room could have
been cut with a knife when John con
cluded his reading and laid the epistle
back on the table.
Jean stood rigid, gazing with affixed
and haughty stare at some point on the
wall above John's head.
"Well, what do you think of It?" he
asked coolly.
"I think," she flashed out "that
you're the moet conceited beast I ever
saw."
With great dignity Jean turned to
leave the room, but somehow he was
at the door before her, with his arms
outstretched.
"You're not going to leave me, little
Jean!" he crltd. "I can never get
nlr.ni? without you any more, for, oh,
I love you lve you love you!" j
A second Bhe stood hesitating then,
with a little sigh, she went to him and'
burst out crying comfortably on his '
shoulder. Chicago Timcs-Ht-rald.
A LOVER'S RUSE.
"Good morning, Harry. You
looking as if this free mountain
are j
air'
I
Cldn't agree with you."
"I wish it didn't; I wish It would dry
me up and blow me away, or an erup- j
tion of the earth would send some
huge rock down upon me, and end it!
all I" j
"Oh, nonsense, Harry! You are a lit- t
tie dyspeptic. Come, have a cigar, and
face your troubles like a man. I know
what the matter is; Ive seen It nil
along, my boy. Let ber go, I say, with
her villainous looking foreigner.
"You don't know her, and that I
why you talk so."
"Well, perhaps I don't; however, I've
a plan to propose that will show you
which way her heart turns, and If she
cares anything for you she will turn
her back square to the baron and his
money bags. Here, take a cigar and
light It while I make sure there Is no
danger of our conversation being over
heard." "The view Is very fine there. See
how the soft rays of the moon glimmer
over the lake and the shadow of the
overhanging trees; oh, bow beautiful!"
and Miss Lacy paused and gased In
silence at the scene before her. The
baron bent his dark eyes upon his fair
companion and In low, soft accents he
said: -
"And you listen to de voice of the na
ture, and you be still and happy; but
when I look at you I cannot hear de
vote of anything but mine heart cry.
Ing forever dat It loves you. Is dare
Bo answer In your heart f
Imogene made no answer.
There was a lonely bit of woodland
through which they must pass to gain
the main walk, and scarcely had they
entered this when a dark figure sprang
before them.
"Your money or your life!" was the
denmand in rough accents, and with a
shriek Imogene turned to her compan
ion for protection, but he was quite
busy in handing over his ready money
and paid no heed to her terror.
Imogene, glancing up the next In
stant, saw the pistol glimmering In the
moonlight knew that the baron drop
ped her hand and fled away, and then
a new figure appeared upon the scene
and a voice exclaimed:
"WTiat are you doing, you villain?"
and she knew It was Harry Hammond
who grappled with the highwayman,
and, forgetting everything else, she
sprang to her feet and rushed forward,
crying:
"Harry! Harry! He will kill you!"
and aa a long knife shone In the faint
light and seemed to descend upon her
discarded lover she fainted.
When she recovered consciousness
she found herself reclining upon a
grassy mound, with Harry beside her,
bathing her temples with cool water
from the lake by which she had stood
so recently.
Looking up to thank blm she noticed
that bis head was bound with a hand
kerchief. The next morning a messenger from
Mr. Lacy came to request the presence
of Mr. Hammond to lunch, and Mr.
Mason sent him back word that if Mr.
Hammond kept quiet he would prob
ably escape brain fever.
No doubt the comforting Information
that the baron had been made the re
cipient of a package containing his
money, which he had so obligingly
allowed himself to be robbed of by the
highwaymen, and a grateful letter and
a visit from Mr. Lacy assisted the sick
man In his recovery.
Three days afterward Mr. Mason
thought him sufficiently recovered to
ride out, and a little perfumed note
that reached him on his return home
completed the cure and enabled it to be
answered in person at the dinner table
of the Lacys.
Imogene was tender and kind, and
before the evening was over had an
opportunity to confess her repentance,
and Harry went home that night the
happiest man in the town.
When the autumn months had sent
the country visitors back to their city
homes Mr. Mason received the wed
ding cards of Mr. and Mrs. Ham
mond.
A DASH FOR A WIFE.
"Talk about anything you like, but
for goodness' sake don't tell me you
loe me," she said, holding up ber fan
to slide a yawn.
'But I can't help loving you," said
the young man, sadly.
"Then don't show it"
The young man was silent From
the adjoining ballroom came strains of
the latest thing in waltzes.
'I didn't ask you to sit like a mum
my," she remarked at length. "If you
have nothing to talk about you had
better take me back to the ballroom.
"I want to know." he said, "if there
Is really nothing I can do that will
make you alter your feelings toward
me."
"I am afraid not," she said, a smile
curving her red Hps. "You see, you
are well, you nothing could make
you any different, nothing. You are, I
admit good looking, well dressed, suffi
ciently wealthy to be able to keep me
In the state to w hich I am accustomed,
but then so are plenty of other men,
all Just as much In love with me as
you say you are. Why should I choose
you In preference to the rest?"
"But you will marry some day?"
"Perhaps it depends. If I do I shall
marry a man not In the least like any
c-f you. Any man can be well dressed,
and good looking and sufficiently rich.
Those three things are essential, but
they are not all. The man I marry
must be all that and something more.
I want a man who Is a man; not a
mere tailor's dummy, or even a reason
ing machine. He must have done some
thing to testify to his manhood; show
me something of the strength that Is in
him."
A wef-k later people turning out of
the park one sweltering afternoon were
horrified to see a handsome cab, the
horse of which bad evidently bolted,
dash furiously past the corner and on
up Piccadilly. Following It with their
eyes up the bill they saw It, after es
caping by some extraordinary chance
innumerable collisions, at length come
to a sudden and violent stop, while
down the wind came round after round
of hearty cheering.
What actually happened, according
to the eldence of bystanders, was
this: The cab, which contained a young
lady of great personal attractions, was
heading straight for the big lamppost
In the middle of the road, collision
with which would hae meant little short
of annihilation, when a gentleman. Im
maculately dressed from top to toe,
sprang from the path and threw him
self bodily onto the horse's bridle.
For some yards he waa dragged vio
lently along, half en the ground, half
In the air, but still retaining his grip
on the reins, despite a nasty bite In
the arm from the Infuriated animal.
A moment more and In the very nick
of time success crowned his efforts. The
horse was brought up panting within
a foot or two of the lamppost, while
cheer after cheer broke out from the
gaping crowd.
"Tou have found your opportunity,"
so ran the letter the young man re
ceived neit day, "and you certainly
made excellent use of It. I shall be at
home all tomorrow afternoon If you
care to call."
As he laid the message down the
young man smiled. A child could have
read between the lines of that letter,
and this young man. In knowledge at
all events, was no child.
XK THD MUSIC ROOM.
"Pauline, I've been looking for
au BigM. 1 reeogniseu the
tall women are bewilderlnglr alike
tonight"
"Are you sure you know me now?" ,
"Perfectly sure, my cox. Your eyes
are black behind your mask. Youl
voice I would not know that either,
but there's a certain ring about you
a carriage of the head Pauline,' he
drew nearer, "does she wear my
roses?"
"Yes."
"Has she danced much with Grey
tonight?"
"Yes."
"Does she care for him?" quickly.
"She hasn't discussed the question
with me." This with fine scorn.
"Tou aren't a bit like yourself. Not
a bit sympathetic, Pauline," he drew
her to a couch. "I'e got to confide
In somebody. You remember the night
I met her. Just a week ago? Did she
ever tell you she had met me, or some
one like me?"
"Never."
"She never speaks of me?" In a dis
appointed tone. "Do you care to hear
about it Pauline? You sit there like
a mummy, or answer In monosylla
bles." "Yes," came from behind the mask.
There was a suspicion of laughter In
the soft voice.
"Well," be began, "a few years ago
I was spending a few days in a hotel
on the continent no matter where. It
was rather a lonely place, and the day
waa dull. I wandered down a corridor
and Into a concert room. A grand
piano stood open, and sheets of music
wer scattered about. I picked up a
gay little waltz and played it through.
When I finished a girl who had evi
dently been standing In the doorway
approached me. She was tall, witn a
manner Imperious enough for a prin
cess, and she looked every Inch of one
In her costly furs and velvet hat
Have I kept you waiting? she
asked, quickly. "I'm sorry. What shall
I slngr
"Her manner took so much for grant,
ed I knew Instantly I was mistaken
for some one else, but I was not tempt,
ed to quarrel with fate.
"It was such a piquant adventure.
The girl was beautiful. Explanations
were bores and awkward. So, in spite
of a strong desire to laugh, I sat down
to the piano anu uuumed a profession
al air, picked up the music which lay
before me. It was the grand serenade
Schubert's. I have never heard It
more beautifully sung.
"Her volt was roarvelously sym
pathetic I had, as you know, passed
unscathed through a good many sea
sons, but I went down before those
conquering eyes. Pauline, you'll never
believe It, but I swear I left that room
and went straight to the singing mas
ter she believed him to be and paid him
six times over to let me Impersonate
him for a month. She had told me she
would remain that long, and would
like to keep up the lessons.
"My dream ended abruptly. One
morning I came, as usual, to find her
or.no There was a little courteous. If
chilly, note, sayilng that she had been
called to America by the illness of a
near relative. Inclosed was the money
for the lessons. I had absolutely no
trace of her. I did not even know the
town she lived In. I went down the
street There seemed suddenly noth
ing left to do nowhere to go.
"A handsome, dark-eyed boy I had
often set-n passed me. I tossed him
the money and laughed at his delight.
So it ended. A week ago I met her
here your guest She gave no sign of
recognition. I haven't had a ghost of
a chance she Is always surrounded.
But tomorrow I will see her. Do you
think she can care for me, Paulino?"
"Yea."
"You do?" eagerly. "Why? Why,
Pauline?" still more eagerly.
Because Because " He read the
answer In the lender, smiling face,
from which she slipped the mask.
An hour later she told him that a
letter, bearing his address and datev
from an American low 11, hum uim L
lanen irom ni jn--ncv 111 uuu
music room across the sea. Picking K
up she found the familiar hand of a
friend. Further convinced by th
postmark she had written her friend
of the adventure, and received a photo
graph she Immediately recognised.
But not until her wedding Journey
soms six months later, did Crs. How.
ard confide to her husband In strictest
confidence that all her plans were
changed and she came south unexpect
edly because of a telegram that ran:
"My cousin, James Howard, Is spend
ing a few weeks with us."
HER REVENGE IS SWEET.
Revenge Is sweet, and a complete
triumph over the foe la a most satisfac
tory feeling. 80 there must be one
young lady In London who Is perfectly
happy. She happened. In going from
Kensington eastward, to step Into on
of those private 'buses which are par
tlcularly rife at holiday times. On ten.
derlng her customary twopence, sh
waa Informed that there were no fare!
under sixpence, and, as did two othel
victims, who were her only fellow pas
sengers, she paid. The day waa dirty,
the rain falling and walking moat un.
pleasant, so the vehicle was stopping
many tlmss to allow of would-be pas
sengers to enter, but to each and af
the young lady, who was cosily en
sconced at an end seat, said In dulcet
tones: "Excuse me, but are you awart
that this Is a private bus?" Kvnrt
one of the people thanked her an!
stepped down. At Hyde Park then
were Quite a crowd waiting to net t
lift Aa they boarded the 'bus, how
ever, they were met with the silvan
notes warning them of thrtr dangel
and the nature of the vehicle In whirl
they proposed to travel. The resuf
waa that the 'bus remained mix
save for Its original passengers, unU
Chancery Una was reached, where tbt
young lady alighted, and aa she km
ded tba conductor "Good morning' sir
