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diff --git a/old/68954-0.txt b/old/68954-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ee044a1..0000000 --- a/old/68954-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3206 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Black Cat, Vol. I, No. 5, February -1896, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Black Cat, Vol. I, No. 5, February 1896 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: September 10, 2022 [eBook #68954] - -Language: English - -Produced by: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK CAT, VOL. I, NO. 5, -FEBRUARY 1896 *** - - - - - - - The Black Cat - - February 1896. - - =The Mysterious Card=, Cleveland Moffett. - =Tang-u=, Lawrence E. Adams. - =The Little Brown Mole=, Clarice Irene Clinghan. - =A Telepathic Wooing=, James Buckham. - =The Prince Ward=, Claude M. Girardeau. - =A Meeting of Royalty=, Margaret Dodge. - - THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING CO. 144 HIGH ST., BOSTON, MASS. - - No. 5. Copyright 1895 by The Shortstory Publishing Co. - - - - -ADVERTISEMENTS - - -Mason & Hamlin Co. - -_The Mason and Hamlin Pianos are the only pianos manufactured containing -the patented Screw Stringer, by virtue of which they do not require one -quarter as much tuning as any other piano made: thus reducing expense of -keeping and inconvenience to a minimum._ - -_Full particulars and catalogues mailed free on application._ - - Mason & Hamlin Co. - BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. - - * * * * * - -Free Magic Lantern Book - -All about lanterns, stereopticons and views, for Public -Exhibitions—Schools—Home amusement and for everybody How to make -money—265 page illustrated catalogue free.—Send to McALLISTER, 49 NASSAU -STREET, NEW YORK. - - * * * * * - -The 20th Century Head-Light - -IS A GOOD THING. - -PUSH IT ALONG on your Bicycles and Runabouts. - -Betts Patent Head-Light Co., 10 Warren St., N. Y. - - * * * * * - -Stock Buyers and Bankers - -Take care of money—subject to check—give interest on deposits. - -Buy and sell for cash or margin ONLY the securities listed on New York -Stock Exchange - -Investors of money - -Givers of stock information, by mail or wire. - -A member of our firm always on floor of Stock Exchange. - - Wayland Trask & Co., - 18 Wall St., New York. - - - - - The Black Cat - - A Monthly Magazine of Original Short Stories. - - No. 5. FEBRUARY, 1896. 5 cents a copy, - 50 cents a year. - - Entered at the Post-Office at Boston, Mass., as second-class matter. - - =IMPORTANT.=—The entire contents of this magazine are covered - by copyright and publishers everywhere are cautioned against - reproducing any of the stories, either wholly or in part. - - Copyright, 1895, by the Shortstory Publishing Company. All - rights reserved. - - - - -The Mysterious Card. - -BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT. - - -Richard Burwell, of New York, will never cease to regret that the French -language was not made a part of his education. - -This is why: - -On the second evening after Burwell arrived in Paris, feeling lonely -without his wife and daughter, who were still visiting a friend in -London, his mind naturally turned to the theater. So, after consulting -the daily amusement calendar, he decided to visit the _Folies Bergère_, -which he had heard of as one of the notable sights. During an -intermission he went into the beautiful garden, where gay crowds were -strolling among the flowers, and lights, and fountains. He had just -seated himself at a little three-legged table, with a view to enjoying -the novel scene, when his attention was attracted by a lovely woman, -gowned strikingly, though in perfect taste, who passed near him, leaning -on the arm of a gentleman. The only thing that he noticed about this -gentleman was that he wore eye-glasses. - -Now Burwell had never posed as a captivator of the fair sex, and could -scarcely credit his eyes when the lady left the side of her escort and, -turning back as if she had forgotten something, passed close by him, -and deftly placed a card on his table. The card bore some French words -written in purple ink, but, not knowing that language, he was unable -to make out their meaning. The lady paid no further heed to him, but, -rejoining the gentleman with the eye-glasses, swept out of the place with -the grace and dignity of a princess. Burwell remained staring at the card. - -Needless to say, he thought no more of the performance or of the other -attractions about him. Everything seemed flat and tawdry compared with -the radiant vision that had appeared and disappeared so mysteriously. His -one desire now was to discover the meaning of the words written on the -card. - -Calling a fiacre, he drove to the Hotel Continental, where he was -staying. Proceeding directly to the office and taking the manager aside, -Burwell asked if he would be kind enough to translate a few words of -French into English. There were no more than twenty words in all. - -“Why, certainly,” said the manager, with French politeness, and cast his -eyes over the card. As he read, his face grew rigid with astonishment, -and, looking at his questioner sharply, he exclaimed: “Where did you get -this, monsieur?” - -Burwell started to explain, but was interrupted by: “That will do, that -will do. You must leave the hotel.” - -“What do you mean?” asked the man from New York, in amazement. - -“You must leave the hotel now—to-night—without fail,” commanded the -manager excitedly. - -Now it was Burwell’s turn to grow angry, and he declared heatedly that if -he wasn’t wanted in this hotel there were plenty of others in Paris where -he would be welcome. And, with an assumption of dignity, but piqued at -heart, he settled his bill, sent for his belongings, and drove up the Rue -de la Paix to the Hotel Bellevue, where he spent the night. - -The next morning he met the proprietor, who seemed to be a good fellow, -and, being inclined now to view the incident of the previous evening from -its ridiculous side, Burwell explained what had befallen him, and was -pleased to find a sympathetic listener. - -“Why, the man was a fool,” declared the proprietor. “Let me see the card; -I will tell you what it means.” But as he read, his face and manner -changed instantly. - -“This is a serious matter,” he said sternly. “Now I understand why my -confrère refused to entertain you. I regret, monsieur, but I shall be -obliged to do as he did.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Simply that you cannot remain here.” - -With that he turned on his heel, and the indignant guest could not -prevail upon him to give any explanation. - -“We’ll see about this,” said Burwell, thoroughly angered. - -It was now nearly noon, and the New Yorker remembered an engagement to -lunch with a friend from Boston, who, with his family, was stopping at -the Hotel de l’Alma. With his luggage on the carriage, he ordered the -_cocher_ to drive directly there, determined to take counsel with his -countryman before selecting new quarters. His friend was highly indignant -when he heard the story—a fact that gave Burwell no little comfort, -knowing, as he did, that the man was accustomed to foreign ways from long -residence abroad. - -“It is some silly mistake, my dear fellow; I wouldn’t pay any attention -to it. Just have your luggage taken down and stay here. It is a nice, -homelike place, and it will be very jolly, all being together. But, -first, let me prepare a little ‘nerve settler’ for you.” - -After the two had lingered a moment over their Manhattan cocktails, -Burwell’s friend excused himself to call the ladies. He had proceeded -only two or three steps when he turned, and said: “Let’s see that -mysterious card that has raised all this row.” - -He had scarcely withdrawn it from Burwell’s hand when he started back, -and exclaimed:— - -“Great God, man! Do you mean to say—this is simply—” - -Then, with a sudden movement of his hand to his head, he left the room. - -He was gone perhaps five minutes, and when he returned his face was white. - -“I am awfully sorry,” he said nervously; “but the ladies tell me -they—that is, my wife—she has a frightful headache. You will have to -excuse us from the lunch.” - -Instantly realizing that this was only a flimsy pretense, and deeply -hurt by his friend’s behavior, the mystified man arose at once and left -without another word. He was now determined to solve this mystery at any -cost. What could be the meaning of the words on that infernal piece of -pasteboard? - -Profiting by his humiliating experiences, he took good care not to show -the card to any one at the hotel where he now established himself,—a -comfortable little place near the Grand Opera House. - -All through the afternoon he thought of nothing but the card, and turned -over in his mind various ways of learning its meaning without getting -himself into further trouble. That evening he went again to the _Folies -Bergère_ in the hope of finding the mysterious woman, for he was now more -than ever anxious to discover who she was. It even occurred to him that -she might be one of those beautiful Nihilist conspirators, or, perhaps, -a Russian spy, such as he had read of in novels. But he failed to find -her, either then or on the three subsequent evenings which he passed in -the same place. Meanwhile the card was burning in his pocket like a hot -coal. He dreaded the thought of meeting any one that he knew, while this -horrible cloud hung over him. He bought a French-English dictionary and -tried to pick out the meaning word by word, but failed. It was all Greek -to him. For the first time in his life, Burwell regretted that he had not -studied French at college. - -After various vain attempts to either solve or forget the torturing -riddle, he saw no other course than to lay the problem before a detective -agency. He accordingly put his case in the hands of an _agent de la -sureté_ who was recommended as a competent and trustworthy man. They -had a talk together in a private room, and, of course, Burwell showed -the card. To his relief, his adviser at least showed no sign of taking -offense. Only he did not and would not explain what the words meant. - -“It is better,” he said, “that monsieur should not know the nature of -this document for the present. I will do myself the honor to call upon -monsieur to-morrow at his hotel, and then monsieur shall know everything.” - -“Then it is really serious?” asked the unfortunate man. - -“Very serious,” was the answer. - -The next twenty-four hours Burwell passed in a fever of anxiety. As -his mind conjured up one fearful possibility after another he deeply -regretted that he had not torn up the miserable card at the start. He -even seized it,—prepared to strip it into fragments, and so end the whole -affair. And then his Yankee stubbornness again asserted itself, and he -determined to see the thing out, come what might. - -“After all,” he reasoned, “it is no crime for a man to pick up a card -that a lady drops on his table.” - -Crime or no crime, however, it looked very much as if he had committed -some grave offense when, the next day, his detective drove up in a -carriage, accompanied by a uniformed official, and requested the -astounded American to accompany them to the police headquarters. - -“What for?” he asked. - -“It is only a formality,” said the detective; and when Burwell still -protested the man in uniform remarked: “You’d better come quietly, -monsieur; you will have to come, anyway.” - -An hour later, after severe cross-examination by another official, -who demanded many facts about the New Yorker’s age, place of birth, -residence, occupation, etc., the bewildered man found himself in the -Conciergerie prison. Why he was there or what was about to befall him -Burwell had no means of knowing; but before the day was over he succeeded -in having a message sent to the American Legation, where he demanded -immediate protection as a citizen of the United States. It was not until -evening, however, that the Secretary of Legation, a consequential person, -called at the prison. There followed a stormy interview, in which the -prisoner used some strong language, the French officers gesticulated -violently and talked very fast, and the Secretary calmly listened to both -sides, said little, and smoked a good cigar. - -“I will lay your case before the American minister,” he said as he rose -to go, “and let you know the result to-morrow.” - -“But this is an outrage. Do you mean to say—”Before he could finish, -however, the Secretary, with a strangely suspicious glance, turned and -left the room. - -That night Burwell slept in a cell. - -The next morning he received another visit from the non-committal -Secretary, who informed him that matters had been arranged, and that he -would be set at liberty forthwith. - -“I must tell you, though,” he said, “that I have had great difficulty -in accomplishing this, and your liberty is granted only on condition -that you leave the country within twenty-four hours, and never under any -conditions return.” - -Burwell stormed, raged, and pleaded; but it availed nothing. The -Secretary was inexorable, and yet he positively refused to throw any -light upon the causes of this monstrous injustice. - -“Here is your card,” he said, handing him a large envelope closed with -the seal of Legation. “I advise you to burn it and never refer to the -matter again.” - -That night the ill-fated man took the train for London, his heart -consumed by hatred for the whole French nation, together with a burning -desire for vengeance. He wired his wife to meet him at the station, and -for a long time debated with himself whether he should at once tell her -the sickening truth. In the end he decided that it was better to keep -silent. No sooner, however, had she seen him than her woman’s instinct -told her that he was laboring under some mental strain. And he saw in -a moment that to withhold from her his burning secret was impossible, -especially when she began to talk of the trip they had planned through -France. Of course no trivial reason would satisfy her for his refusal to -make this trip, since they had been looking forward to it for years; and -yet it was impossible now for him to set foot on French soil. - -So he finally told her the whole story, she laughing and weeping in turn. -To her, as to him, it seemed incredible that such overwhelming disasters -could have grown out of so small a cause, and, being a fluent French -scholar, she demanded a sight of the fatal piece of pasteboard. In vain -her husband tried to divert her by proposing a trip through Italy. She -would consent to nothing until she had seen the mysterious card which -Burwell was now convinced he ought long ago to have destroyed. After -refusing for awhile to let her see it, he finally yielded. But, although -he had learned to dread the consequences of showing that cursed card, he -was little prepared for what followed. She read it, turned pale, gasped -for breath, and nearly fell to the floor. - -“I told you not to read it,” he said; and then, growing tender at the -sight of her distress, he took her hand in his and begged her to be -calm. “At least tell me what the thing means,” he said. “We can bear it -together; you surely can trust me.” - -But she, as if stung by rage, pushed him from her and declared, in a tone -such as he had never heard from her before, that never, never again would -she live with him. “You are a monster!” she exclaimed. And those were the -last words he heard from her lips. - -Failing utterly in all efforts at reconciliation, the half-crazed man -took the first steamer for New York, having suffered in scarcely a -fortnight more than in all his previous life. His whole pleasure trip had -been ruined, he had failed to consummate important business arrangements, -and now he saw his home broken up and his happiness ruined. During the -voyage he scarcely left his stateroom, but lay there prostrated with -agony. In this black despondency the one thing that sustained him was -the thought of meeting his partner, Jack Evelyth, the friend of his -boyhood, the sharer of his success, the bravest, most loyal fellow in -the world. In the face of even the most damning circumstances, he felt -that Evelyth’s rugged common sense would evolve some way of escape from -this hideous nightmare. Upon landing at New York he hardly waited for the -gang-plank to be lowered before he rushed on shore and grasped the hand -of his partner, who was waiting on the wharf. - -“Jack,” was his first word, “I am in dreadful trouble, and you are the -only man in the world who can help me.” - -An hour later Burwell sat at his friend’s dinner table, talking over the -situation. - -Evelyth was all kindness, and several times as he listened to Burwell’s -story his eyes filled with tears. - -“It does not seem possible, Richard,” he said, “that such things can be; -but I will stand by you; we will fight it out together. But we cannot -strike in the dark. Let me see this card.” - -“There is the damned thing,” Burwell said, throwing it on the table. - -Evelyth opened the envelope, took out the card, and fixed his eyes on the -sprawling purple characters. - -“Can you read it?” Burwell asked excitedly. - -“Perfectly,” his partner said. The next moment he turned pale, and his -voice broke. Then he clasped the tortured man’s hand in his with a strong -grip. “Richard,” he said slowly, “if my only child had been brought here -dead it would not have caused me more sorrow than this does. You have -brought me the worst news one man could bring another.” - -His agitation and genuine suffering affected Burwell like a death -sentence. - -“Speak, man,” he cried; “do not spare me. I can bear anything rather than -this awful uncertainty. Tell me what the card means.” - -Evelyth took a swallow of brandy and sat with head bent on his clasped -hands. - -“No, I can’t do it; there are some things a man must not do.” - -Then he was silent again, his brows knitted. Finally he said solemnly:— - -“No, I can’t see any other way out of it. We have been true to each -other all our lives; we have worked together and looked forward to never -separating. I would rather fail and die than see this happen. But we have -got to separate, old friend; we have got to separate.” - -They sat there talking until late into the night. But nothing that -Burwell could do or say availed against his friend’s decision. There was -nothing for it but that Evelyth should buy his partner’s share of the -business or that Burwell buy out the other. The man was more than fair -in the financial proposition he made; he was generous, as he always had -been, but his determination was inflexible; the two must separate. And -they did. - -With his old partner’s desertion, it seemed to Burwell that the world was -leagued against him. It was only three weeks from the day on which he had -received the mysterious card; yet in that time he had lost all that he -valued in the world,—wife, friends, and business. What next to do with -the fatal card was the sickening problem that now possessed him. - -He dared not show it; yet he dared not destroy it. He loathed it; yet he -could not let it go from his possession. Upon returning to his house he -locked the accursed thing away in his safe as if it had been a package of -dynamite or a bottle of deadly poison. Yet not a day passed that he did -not open the drawer where the thing was kept and scan with loathing the -mysterious purple scrawl. - -In desperation he finally made up his mind to take up the study of the -language in which the hateful thing was written. And still he dreaded the -approach of the day when he should decipher its awful meaning. - -One afternoon, less than a week after his arrival in New York, as he was -crossing Twenty-third Street on the way to his French teacher, he saw -a carriage rolling up Broadway. In the carriage was a face that caught -his attention like a flash. As he looked again he recognized the woman -who had been the cause of his undoing. Instantly he sprang into another -cab and ordered the driver to follow after. He found the house where she -was living. He called there several times; but always received the same -reply, that she was too much engaged to see any one. Next he was told -that she was ill, and on the following day the servant said she was much -worse. Three physicians had been summoned in consultation. He sought -out one of these and told him it was a matter of life or death that he -see this woman. The doctor was a kindly man and promised to assist him. -Through his influence, it came about that on that very night Burwell -stood by the bedside of this mysterious woman. She was beautiful still, -though her face was worn with illness. - -“Do you recognize me?” he asked tremblingly, as he leaned over the bed, -clutching in one hand an envelope containing the mysterious card. “Do you -remember seeing me at the _Folies Bergère_ a month ago?” - -“Yes,” she murmured, after a moment’s study of his face; and he noted -with relief that she spoke English. - -“Then, for God’s sake, tell me, what does it all mean?” he gasped, -quivering with excitement. - -“I gave you the card because I wanted you to—to—” - -Here a terrible spasm of coughing shook her whole body, and she fell back -exhausted. - -An agonizing despair tugged at Burwell’s heart. Frantically snatching the -card from its envelope, he held it close to the woman’s face. - -“Tell me! Tell me!” - -With a supreme effort, the pale figure slowly raised itself on the -pillow, its fingers clutching at the counterpane. - -Then the sunken eyes fluttered—forced themselves open—and stared in -stony amazement upon the fatal card, while the trembling lips moved -noiselessly, as if in an attempt to speak. As Burwell, choking with -eagerness, bent his head slowly to hers, a suggestion of a smile -flickered across the woman’s face. Again the mouth quivered, the man’s -head bent nearer and nearer to hers, his eyes riveted upon the lips. -Then, as if to aid her in deciphering the mystery, he turned his eyes to -the card. - -With a cry of horror he sprang to his feet, his eyeballs starting from -their sockets. Almost at the same moment the woman fell heavily upon the -pillow. - -Every vestige of the writing had faded! The card was blank! - -The woman lay there dead. - -[Illustration] - - - - -Tang-u. - -BY LAWRENCE E. ADAMS. - - -Among the most interesting souvenirs that Marston, the naval officer, -brought from the Orient was a curious portrait, evidently the work of a -native artist, painted in brilliant colors on a panel of foreign wood. -More striking than the workmanship of the portrait, however, was its -subject, a small Chinese boy, apparently not more than ten or twelve -years of age, but wearing the uniform of a high Japanese naval officer, -and adorned with a whole string of jeweled decorations. - -Here is the history of the portrait: - -When the Japanese flagship steamed out of the harbor of Canton on the -day that war was formally declared between Japan and China, it carried -one human being whose name was not on the ship’s rolls,—and he belonged -to the enemy. He became a passenger under the following circumstances: -Just before the ship weighed anchor a small steam launch was sent back -for the commander and superior officers, who had been detained until -late. Among these officers were three Americans, all graduates of the -Annapolis academy, who had been engaged by the Japanese government as -advisers during the coming hostilities. As the little launch wormed its -way through the maze of picturesque craft and sampans,—the curious little -Chinese house-boats,—which crowded the bay, the eyes of the American -officers were riveted by a curious sight. To the top of a wooden stake -to which a sampan was moored a little Chinese boy clung, swaying to and -fro, eyeing delightedly the steam launch as it shot through the water. -In his anxiety to see the fun, however, he had disregarded the weakness -of this reedlike support, which, when a passing sampan collided with it, -suddenly broke off short, plunging the little chap into the water. At -first the launch’s passengers paid slight attention to the accident, -knowing that these little natives are as much at home in the water as on -shore. Indifference, however, gave way to concern when the child’s shrill -cry for help rang through the air, followed by the mad efforts of every -sampan-man within sight to get away from the drowning boy, instead of -to him. It was now evident that the little fellow had become entangled -in a floating coil of rope, and that his drowning was a matter of a few -seconds; yet not one of the Chinese boatmen but watched from a distance -and in silence the small hero’s frantic struggles for life. Indeed, the -little Mongolian was already disappearing in the waters of the bay when -the steam launch, at the signal of the commander, veered in its course, -and a strong arm snatched the little body from the waves. As for the -sampan-men, they watched the rescue with cries of amazement. This was -because of the curious law existing in certain provinces of China that -whosoever saves a life, the rescued one may lawfully look to the rescuer -for support forever after. It is plain that this barbaric edict virtually -puts a premium on death; but the explanation lies in the fatalistic -religion, which holds that whenever a man falls into peril it is by the -express wish and will of the gods, and that to rescue him is to obstruct -their just decrees. - -Meantime the officers, who had arrived on shipboard with their protégé -before it had occurred to them to plan for his disposal, were examining -their find as though he had been a new and curious toy. To send him -back to shore was impossible, as they were already steaming out of the -harbor. The only course, then, was to keep him on board, at least during -the voyage to Japan, a plan rendered all the easier by the fact that the -little heathen was, according to his broken Japanese, both homeless and -friendless. - -But if the boy had seemed a nuisance in prospect, he was anything but -that in reality. Shrewd as any Bowery ragamuffin, the little fellow’s -alert ways and quick wits were the unfailing delight of the three -American officers. More imitative, even, than the Japanese, he picked -up their language and customs with such incredible ease that in a few -days he was more Japanese than any subject of the Mikado. Indeed, before -many weeks had passed, the entire crew was accustomed to the curious -spectacle of one of the enemy enjoying the most marked attention and -hospitality that the ship could afford. - -But, besides his imitativeness and shrewdness, the little Mongolian -had one accomplishment that gained the awe-struck admiration of -his Oriental friends. That was the power of discovering objects at -incredible distances as easily by night as by day, a power due partly to -inheritance, and partly to his profession. The lad was an interesting -specimen of the Oriental class of beings known as rat-catchers. This -means more than the word implies. They are not rat-catchers by vocation -alone, but, strangely enough, they are born to the trade. In addition -to many other talents which he had inherited from a long line of -rat-catching ancestry, little Tang-u,—the “rat,”—as the boy was called, -had the power of seeing his way clearly in almost the dead blackness of -night. Sometimes, indeed, it seemed as though he was endowed with a sixth -sense in this matter, being able to walk straight into a dungeon-like -room and to bring forth any object without the least hesitancy. Courage, -also, he had developed to a rare degree, for the rats in the docks of -China, and in the underground passages from warehouse cellar to cellar, -and sewer to sewer, where he plied his trade, are the fattest and most -savage of the rodent tribe the world over; so large, indeed, that -the skins of two of them will make a pair of gloves, and the carcass -will supply a family with dried _fillet de rodent_ for a week. These -rat-catchers spend days and weeks in the underground passages, and day -and night are almost the same to them. - -Now that he could no longer exercise his strange gift in his accustomed -way, Tang-u would often amuse himself by standing for hours on the deck, -peering out through the mist or the darkness in search of things hidden -to common eyes. Indeed, among the Americans he soon became known as the -“kid with the telescopic eye,” while the commander, on various occasions, -allowed him to accompany the men in the lookout, where he discovered -objects often in advance of the field-glass. Even the dark waters of the -ocean were not proof against the vision of the little heathen, whose -bright eyes would detect curious fish as they swam around the ship, -many feet below the surface; while a fog that blinded the ordinary eye -proved no obstacle to his keen sight. Before long every one came to the -conclusion that a boy whose eye was equal to a combined field-glass and -search-light was a valuable addition to a modern warship; and on more -than one occasion during the months of the war the little Chinaman’s -discernment was appealed to as gravely as though he had been thirty years -old and a Japanese officer, instead of a ten-year-old Chinaman. - -On one occasion, indeed, Tang-u’s sixth sense made him for five minutes -the ship’s commander. - -It was late in the evening before the memorable engagement of Port -Arthur. The flagship, which, having passed unscathed through months of -war, had been recently ordered to this stronghold, had just anchored in -the harbor, and preparations were making for the night’s defense. The -torpedo net had not yet been lowered, but the whole ship resounded with -the bustle and hurry of preparations for what every one felt would be the -most decisive battle of the war. Meantime Tang-u stood alone near the -bow, peering out through the darkness, as was his custom upon arriving in -a strange place, in search of some new and interesting sight. Suddenly, -above the confusion, there rang out a shrill little scream, and Tang-u, -with his eyes bulging from his head, rushed towards the admiral, and, -pointing out to sea, frantically shrieked: “Tor-pee-to! tor-pee-to!!” - -Instantly every eye followed the direction of the tiny finger. The sea -looked unruffled. Not a soul on the deck, even by straining his vision -to the utmost, could verify Tang-u’s cry. Yet so accustomed had they -become to relying upon the little fellow’s keen sight that the admiral -gave instant orders to lower the net. In a moment there was a sound of -hurrying feet, a hundred hands were raised to the ropes, and the great -net fell into place. Before the splash of the falling net had died -away, there was a thundering explosion, and a tremendous upheaval of -water, like that of a mighty geyser, shook the huge ship from bow to -stern. It was indeed a torpedo that Tang-u’s keen eyes had detected far -away through the approaching night. But swiftly as it came, the boy’s -marvelous vision had been swifter. The well-aimed missile of destruction, -that in a moment more would have destroyed the flower of the Japanese -navy, had, in coming in contact with the netting, exploded harmlessly, -flooding the deck with water. The great warship with over three hundred -souls had been saved from annihilation,—and by one of the enemy. - -A few months later, when Tang-u’s exploit was brought to the notice of -the Mikado, that dignitary conferred upon the little Chinese rat-catcher -the rank of honorary admiral in the Japanese navy. - -And it was in this way that a heathen nation furnished the youngest naval -hero in existence. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Little Brown Mole. - -BY CLARICE IRENE CLINGHAN. - - -Three years ago, while spending a few weeks in New York, I was invited -to the home of Paul Fancourt, the famous naval architect, whose family -residence is on the shore of the Hudson, and but a short distance from -the city. - -I found my old college friend, whom I had not seen for several years, -busily engaged with a set of drawings; but, notwithstanding his -enthusiasm in his work, he looked worn, haggard, and unhappy. On the -afternoon of the last day of my visit I pinned him down to a serious -talk, in the course of which I begged him not to undermine his health by -too close application to his favorite pursuit. - -With a flitting smile he exclaimed: “Why, it’s all that keeps me alive!” -After a moment’s thought he added: “Of late years I have been weighed -down by the memory of a dark spot in my life—an unwritten chapter—until -at times it seems as though I must make a confidant of some one.” - -Upon my assurance that I would be a most willing listener, he related the -following history: - -“Twelve years ago,” he said, “when I was twenty-three, I met a singularly -handsome girl, a débutante enjoying the triumphs of her first season. -It does not speak well for the good sense of either of us, but I am -compelled to admit that within six weeks we had met, loved, married, -quarreled, and separated. - -“The trouble between us was incompatibility of temper. This sounds -insignificant, but there was certainly an enormous lot of incompatibility -and much temper! We were very unhappy—at least, I was. We both said -things that could never be forgiven or forgotten. Before the honeymoon -was over I left my wife in this house, with a corps of servants and a -handsome balance at my banker’s, and started on a trip around the world. - -“I was absent five years. During that time there was no communication -between my wife and myself, although I frequently heard of her through -correspondence with friends. Her conduct during my absence was most -exemplary. She remained in the place where I left her, but gave up -society. She studied art, making much progress, and I was informed that -her pictures and illustrations were selling for extravagant sums. She -seemed to have struck a popular art note and was playing upon it. - -“These bits of information neither entertained nor amused me. Indeed, I -thought myself beyond the point where anything she might say or do could -interest me. Not that I had learned to care for any one else, but simply -because our short association had utterly destroyed my early boyish -affection. Before I had been absent a year her very image seemed effaced -from my memory. - -“On my arrival in New York, however, I was irritated to learn that not -a penny of the money I had left at her disposal had been touched. I -believed she had done this for the purpose of annoying me and causing -me to look mean in the eyes of the world,—she, meanwhile, earning -her livelihood by her art. Being abundantly able, I wished to make a -settlement upon her; but, as she absolutely refused to talk with the -lawyer I sent to her, I was compelled, repugnant as the idea was, to seek -a personal interview. To this end I telegraphed Mrs. Fancourt on the -third morning after my arrival, asking if she would receive me at five -o’clock that afternoon on an urgent business matter. - -“In less than an hour the reply reached me. I tore open the envelope and -read the one word which comprised the answer, standing alone, naked of -punctuation, on the yellow sheet: ‘Come.’ - -“‘That means war to the knife,’ I thought, tossing the paper on my -dressing-table. ‘No words wasted.’ - -“As I made preparations for the trip I caught myself glancing at the -letter now and then. ‘_Come!_’ After all, it had a certain charm of its -own, that word. Like all affirmative expressions, it possessed drawing -power. The more I looked at it, the more alluring it appeared. Then I -examined the signature. It was simply ‘Leila.’ Really, it was almost -coaxing. - -“Arriving in this village just at nightfall, I hurried towards the -house which had been the scene of so much unhappiness. To my surprise, -it gleamed with lights, as if for some festivity. As I sprang up the -steps and laid my hand upon the bell the door was suddenly opened by a -maid-servant whose face was strange to me. - -“‘Where is madame—Mrs. Fancourt?’ I asked. - -“‘In the drawing-room, sir,’ she answered, and then discreetly -disappeared. - -“As you know, the drawing-room in this house is connected with the front -hall by an arch, hung with portières. These were drawn. Pushing them -aside, I entered, and suddenly found myself in the warm glow of a big -wood fire which had been lighted in the fireplace. This crackling, cheery -blaze and the waning light of the October day were all that lighted the -room. There in the center she stood, clad in an exquisite gown of palest -yellow, and, as I moved towards her, I saw two hands, instead of one, -outstretched. The next moment I was holding them both, the cool, soft -fingers clinging to mine while she whispered: ‘Paul!’ - -“For a few seconds we looked at each other silently, breathlessly; then, -obeying that irresistible law that causes the needle to be drawn towards -the magnet, I bent and kissed her. - -“All this took place as I have described it; but it would be impossible -for me to account for the feelings that actuated me. I know only that all -my bitterness towards my wife, all my dislike for her, in one revulsion -of mind changed to the most passionate admiration and affection from -the instant her lips touched mine. Dazed, astonished, I could not find -voice to speak, but Leila chatted quite naturally as she led me to a big -armchair on one side of the fireplace, while she threw herself on a low -divan piled with cushions on the other side, putting out a slim little -yellow-slippered foot to the blaze. - -“‘It’s such a sorry day that I ordered this big fire, so your home -would seem pleasant after your long absence,’ said she, in her mellow, -vibrating voice. Then, looking at me across the fire, with a winning -smile, she added: ‘Besides, it was so good of you to come out to see me.’ - -“I looked at her, still amazed. I now saw that she was much changed. -Perhaps she was not so handsome as she had been in her early womanhood; -but what she had gained more than made up for that which she had lost. -She was thinner; her face had grown ethereal, luminous, spirituelle. -Surely, she had suffered, this fiery, savage-tempered girl, for the -hardness and selfishness had melted away from her face and left it -softened, lovely, and changefully brilliant. At first I thought her eyes -were darker; but I soon made up my mind that it was because the pupils -were so dilated. Then I knew she, too, was under the tension of strong -nervous excitement. Her manner, however, gave no suggestion of this. She -talked rapidly and almost continually, saying, apparently, whatever first -came into her mind. - -“‘I suppose it seems frightfully dull to be here again. The -merry-go-round has stopped, and here you are at the place from which -you started. The curtain has dropped, has it not, dear? You’ve been -everywhere and seen so much; and now everything is at a standstill and -you feel a bit giddy from sudden lack of motion. It’s much the same with -me, only my merry-go-round isn’t so merry and not so far around. I’ve -just rotated between here and the New York art schools, and lived very -quietly. But I believe I’m doing all the talking. Would you like to -say anything—just a little word? Well, I won’t let you, for I know two -things. You are tired, and no man feels like talking before he has dined. -So not a word until after dinner.’ - -“In the dining-room another surprise awaited me. A miniature banquet -had been prepared, evidently in my honor, for I was the only guest. The -room was adorned with palms and vines, and the table was gracefully -decorated with roses and ferns, among which gleamed the silver and china. -Over all was the soft, almost moonlight effect of wax tapers. The only -objection I could make to anything was the flowers on the table, which -partially concealed the face which I was now hungry to look upon. It -was what I believe is termed the Celtic type of beauty, quite common -among Anglo-Saxons,—dark brown hair approaching black, gray eyes, and a -complexion of creamy fairness. - -“We were long at dinner, talking of everything but the subject I came to -introduce. I became reminiscent of travel; she was easily entertained and -was herself brilliant, serious, and amusing in turn. As we walked back -to the drawing-room at the close of the meal, I whispered, like a lover: - -“‘Leila, I came to scoff, but I remain to pray. Can you forget the past?’ - -“She promptly put her hand over my mouth. ‘The past must remain a sealed -book,’ she commanded. - -“And, so it did. - -“In the hour that followed, spent before the open fire, I inadvertently -referred more than once to the forbidden subject. But each time I was -stopped by a warning gesture and an impressive, ‘Remember, not a word. We -begin life anew from this hour.’ - -“With every moment my desire for a reconciliation grew stronger. But when -at length she yielded, it was only on two conditions: first, that I would -never refer to the past; and, second, that our future be consecrated by a -ceremony of marriage. - -“I readily agreed to the first condition and took the solemn vow -required; but at the second stipulation I laughed. But she said, -very seriously, that she could be reconciled to me under no other -circumstances. So, yielding to her whim, I ordered a carriage and we -drove to the house of an elderly clergyman in the village whom we well -knew, who, on hearing our story, willingly agreed to repeat the ceremony; -and, lightly, almost laughingly, the words of five years before were once -more said. - -“Then followed five months of the most absolute happiness that was ever -accorded, it seemed to me, to human beings. It was an atmosphere of love, -joy, and ineffable content. The beauty of my wife, her changed nature, -and fine intuitions grew upon me day by day. There never was, I am sure, -a woman like her. I lived in her love; and yet I lost it forever on -account of a thing of such infinitesimal importance that it drives me -nearly mad to think of it. This object was no more nor less than a little -brown mole on my wife’s neck, just below her left ear. - -“It came about in the following manner: One day, having returned from the -city on an earlier train than I had anticipated, I went to Leila’s room -and found her lying on a couch, fast asleep, her hands clasped behind her -head, and one slippered foot crossed over the other—in fact, the posture -in which Du Maurier’s famous Duchess was wont to ‘dream true.’ Knowing -she was a sound sleeper it occurred to me to softly kiss the little -brown mole to which I have just referred—something I had not thought of -since the days of our first short honeymoon so long ago. - -“Carefully I pushed aside the masses of tumbled hair that lay across her -soft white throat, and bent over her. No—the other side—but, surely—what -did it mean? Her round neck of infantile whiteness and smoothness lay -before me, _but the little beauty spot was missing_! Nor was there the -slightest evidence that it had ever existed. - -“I went downstairs and smoked a pipe on the piazza to think over this -mystery. But the longer I thought, the less I understood it. - -“That evening I said to my wife: ‘Sweetheart, where is the little brown -mole that was just under your left ear?’ - -“For a moment she looked at me; then she said softly, but with a certain -power in her voice: ‘Have you forgotten your vow?’ - -“I stared a moment; then recalled my promise never to allude to the past. -Somehow, it impressed me differently now than when I had first taken it. -To be sure, I laughingly begged Leila’s pardon, assuring her there would -be no more lapses from rectitude in that direction. But from that moment -a strange restlessness took possession of me. I felt something impending. -In the morning I would wake with a singular sense of oppression, which -when traced to its cause always arrived at the same starting-point,—the -little brown mole which should have been on my wife’s soft white throat, -but was not. - -“It was about this time that I noticed that there was not a likeness of -Leila in the whole house. When I went away there were many scattered -about,—water-color sketches, paintings in oil, photographs, and etchings, -for Leila had always been proud of her beauty. Now not one remained; even -the oil-painting that had been finished, as companion to mine, just, -after our first marriage, had been removed, though mine hung in its -accustomed place. I was about to call attention to this fact and ask the -reason, when I remembered that this circumstance, also, belonged to the -past, concerning which I had promised never to question, and was silent. - -“My mind had now become so perturbed that it continually demanded -something on which to focus its attention. For this reason, I turned -my thoughts to my favorite pursuit,—naval architecture,—which had been -neglected for months. Before my trip abroad I had left in a sandal-wood -box in the library some unfinished plans, which I now decided to -complete. But as the box was missing and the servants knew nothing of its -whereabouts, I climbed to the attic to look for it myself. - -“After an hour spent in a fruitless search I was turning to leave, when -my eye fell upon a large picture lying on its face among a heap of papers -in the darkest corner. I knew the frame, and the first glance at the -picture told me I had happened on what I was not looking for, but had -wished for,—a portrait of my wife. It was the one that had been painted -directly after our marriage. - -“Dragging it from its hiding-place, I carried it to the long, low window, -and, propping it up against an old dressing-table in a position that -would catch a good light, I carefully wiped off the dust and cobwebs and -stood back to view it. - -“As I looked I became as a man stricken with death! The face on the -canvas was not the face of the woman I loved and worshiped as my wife! - -“How long I stood benumbed by this discovery I do not know. After the -first shock lessened and my senses began to act, I fell to studying the -portrait and comparing it with its living double. - -“That there was a remarkable resemblance between the two it is -unnecessary to say; but at the same time there were so many points of -difference that I was amazed that I could have been so easily deceived. -There was, in fact, what might be termed a ‘family’ resemblance such as -often exists between two sisters, who, when together, are not thought -to be remarkably alike, but when seen apart are often mistaken for one -another. In the picture the ears were larger, the mouth smaller, the chin -less decided, the forehead a trifle narrower, and the eyebrows heavier. - -“While I stood revolving in my mind this terrible mystery I heard the -sound of hurried footsteps. My wife had returned from her afternoon walk. -I went downstairs, arriving in the lower hall just as she entered. She -came sweeping in with her usual vivacity, her eyes bright, a faint rose -tint on her cheeks, enveloped in that atmosphere of exhilaration that -was like a breath of ozone, and which gave her a charm above ordinary -women. - -“Something in my appearance must have startled her, for she paused at -sight of me and waited for me to approach. I went to her, kissed her, and -then, clasping her gloved wrists in mine, looked steadfastly at her and -said, ‘Dear, where is Leila?’ - -“In a moment her brilliant color faded. Her eyes fell. Then, suddenly -wrenching herself free from me, she moved unsteadily towards the -staircase, pausing with her hand on the banister only long enough to say, -‘You have broken your pledge. Leave me alone until to-morrow. Then you -shall know everything.’ - -“Then I heard the sound of her garments on the stairs, presently the -closing of her door, and the key turning in the lock. - -“All that night I restlessly walked the floor of my room, trying to bring -order out of the chaos of my mind. Fear, love, trust, suspicion, all by -turns possessed me; but in the end my belief in the goodness of the woman -I loved conquered. At early dawn I knocked at my wife’s door. There was -no response. I tried the knob; it yielded and I entered. There was a dim -light in the room; but she was gone. On her dressing-table was a letter -which told me all. - -“The first few paragraphs are sacred to me alone. I will begin her letter -where she commenced her own history. - -“‘My name,’ she wrote, ‘is Olive Berkeley. I was born in England, the -only child of a retired naval officer. My father had a moderate fortune, -and for eighteen years I lived a quiet, carefree life in a Devonshire -country-house. During my nineteenth year my father’s income was so much -reduced by unlucky investments that we moved to London that I might study -art, with a view to supporting myself. Two years later my father, who -was my only near relative, died suddenly, leaving me less than a hundred -pounds clear of debt. By this time, however, I felt confident of success -in my profession, and, thinking America offered a better field than -England for a self-supporting woman, I came to New York. Here I took a -studio with the intention of giving lessons in drawing and painting. - -“‘But the pupils did not come; my pictures failed to catch the popular -fancy; my money was soon spent. Overwork and worry culminated in -illness, and I soon found myself deeply in debt without a friend in the -world to whom I could apply for aid. In this extremity I accepted the -first work I could obtain—a situation as companion to Mrs. Paul Fancourt. - -“‘This woman, whose violent temper and moody disposition had driven -her husband to foreign countries before the honeymoon was over, was -the terror of her household. She, I believe, took a dislike to me from -the first on account of a singular resemblance between us, and also -because she saw I was her equal by birth and education. At any rate, she -delighted in humiliating me in every way, as well as in making my duties -as laborious as possible. I hated to touch a morsel of food under her -roof, but my unmet obligations made it impossible for me to resign my -position, as I did not know where else I could obtain remunerative work, -and I had a horror of debt. But, though I outwardly kept my temper, a -volcano of hurt pride and misery burned within me. - -“‘One Wednesday night I went to my room more than usually worn and -enraged by Mrs. Fancourt’s caprices. It had been one of her stormiest -days, culminating in the discharge of her butler, and the bitterest -invectives against the other servants. I had just retired, and had hardly -fallen asleep, when the bell over my head rang violently. Springing up, I -slipped on a dressing-gown and went downstairs. Mrs. Fancourt was sitting -in an easy-chair reading a novel. The hands of the clock on the mantel -pointed to eleven. Without looking at me, she motioned to a table not -three yards away, saying insolently, “Bring me that paper-knife.” - -“‘“Never,” I answered passionately. - -“‘With this she rose and came towards me, striking me full in the face -with the paper-covered novel in her hand. - -“‘Then it was as if all my pent-up self-control snapped. I sprang toward -her, seized her by the shoulders, shook her until my strength was spent, -and flung her from me. - -“‘She fell heavily, striking her temple upon a sharp corner of the -fender, where she lay quite still. I hurried forward and spoke to her. -There was no response and I lifted her face to the firelight. To my -horror I found that she was dead. - -“‘And what was to become of me? I had killed her in a fit of passion, -I could not deny, though it was by accident. How could I prove my -innocence? I was without friends or money. When my debts were brought -to light, might not theft and the fear of discovery be advanced as the -motive for the crime? If not the scaffold, I saw, at least, prison bars -before me. - -“‘Instinctively looking around for something to wrap about me, I caught -up a satin-lined garment of Mrs. Fancourt, and, slipping it on, rang -the bell. Wishing to spare the one who answered it a shock, I met the -housekeeper in the hall. - -“‘“What is it, Mrs. Fancourt?” asked the woman very respectfully, -evidently mistaking me for her mistress. - -“‘In that instant there flashed into my half-crazed brain the wild idea -that I might personify Mrs. Fancourt for the time being. The death of -the poor, unknown English girl could be of little moment, while the -announcement of the death of Mrs. Fancourt would cause much more comment. - -“‘With this idea, I told the housekeeper to come to me in half an hour; -then, with the courage of desperation, I clothed the dead body in one -of my dresses, arrayed myself in one of Mrs. Fancourt’s gowns, darkened -my eyebrows to simulate hers, and let my hair fall about my face in -confusion. - -“‘Meantime, I had determined to insure myself against detection by the -three remaining servants by getting rid of them at once, a plan rendered -all the easier by the fact that it simply carried out Mrs. Fancourt’s -mood of the day. In fact, it had been her custom to vent her feelings by -discharging her entire corps of servants in a body and with no warning; -and their comings and goings caused not the slightest comment. - -“‘The scheme succeeded to perfection. The other servants, terrified -by the catastrophe, gladly left the house at once, especially as each -was provided with two weeks’ wages in advance. Mrs. Fancourt’s only -sister and near relative was traveling in Europe; her husband was at -the antipodes. Of course there was a coroner’s inquest; but, as nothing -was proven to the contrary, a verdict of death by accident was brought -in. The whole matter passed off very quietly; few outside the household -knew that Mrs. Fancourt had an English companion or that she had died. -Those who did thought it very kind of Mrs. Fancourt to give the companion -burial in her own family lot. - -“‘Then I fell sick, and for weeks raved with brain fever. When I -recovered I was but the ghost of my former self, and friends of the dead -woman who came to call after my recovery said they never would have known -me. - -“‘As soon as I was able I devoted myself to art, which now, by a freak -of fortune, brought me large returns. I not only paid the debts of my -“deceased English companion,” but supported myself comfortably without -touching the fund left at the disposal of Mrs. Fancourt by her husband. -That I never could have done. I should have been happy but for the grief -I felt at having—though unwittingly—caused the death of another. There -has never been a moment when I would not have willingly yielded up my -life, could it have restored that of my victim. The fact that I usurped -her name and position was due to a momentary cowardice. There was only -one thing belonging to the dead woman that I coveted, and that was her -husband!—and not even him until that night of nights when he came into -my monotonous life and kissed me with that quiet air of ownership and -dominion! - -“‘I had dreaded your coming, fearing you, above all others, would -discover the fraud. And when your message reached me, and, on the impulse -of the moment, I sent that fatal answer, “Come,” it had hardly left my -hand before I regretted it. For at once it flashed upon me how impossible -it would be to account for all or to conceal all. But from the instant -that you stood before me I was conquered by another feeling than that of -dread,—I loved you. Love and not fear held me to the lie. And it was my -respect for you and for myself that made me insist upon that marriage -ceremony. - -“‘I always knew that should you discover the deceit I should leave -you—not because I felt guilty of crime—for of that I have always felt -morally innocent—but because I won and married you under false pretenses. -I cannot bear to lose one iota of your respect and remain where I can -miss it.’” - -Here Paul Fancourt closed his story. I heard the high wind lashing the -trees; darkness was growing dense; the early November evening was closing -in. - -“It was seven years ago to-night that I first met her in this house,” -went on Fancourt. - -“Surely you have taken measures to find her?” - -“I have done everything under heaven. Once in awhile I grow desperate and -try everything over again. But it is useless. And yet I have a feeling -that she will return, and that if she does it will be to this house. So I -am just waiting here, waiting— - -“Well, John?” - -“A lady to see you, sir,” said the butler at the door. - -“Who is she?” - -“I don’t know, sir; she wouldn’t give any name.” - -Fancourt rose and went towards the door; but before he reached it his -visitor pushed past the servant and stood,—a tall, veiled figure in -black,—clutching nervously at the drapery at the door. Then she threw -back her veil. I caught a glimpse of a marvelous face and hair sprinkled -with snow about the temples, of two dark, beautiful eyes fixed on Paul. - -“I—I couldn’t stay away—any longer,” she whispered huskily. - -Fancourt rushed towards her with an inarticulate cry. Then, with hands -outstretched, “My wife,” he gasped, “I—” - -But what followed I shall never know; for the next moment I had retreated -into the library, where for half an hour I sat diligently reading a book -held upside down. - -What I do know, however, is this: All that I have told happened three -years ago; and up to the present time Paul Fancourt’s third experiment in -matrimony has proved a triumphant success. - -[Illustration] - - - - -A Telepathic Wooing. - -BY JAMES BUCKHAM. - - -Dr. Amsden was utterly and hopelessly in love with beautiful Miriam -Foote. But, in spite of his six feet of splendid manhood—or, perhaps, -because of them—the young doctor was so timid in the presence of the -fair sex, and particularly in the presence of the fascinating Miriam, -that he could no more bring himself to utter a syllable of sentiment to -that young woman than he could walk up to the venerable and dignified -president of the State Medical Association and tweak his nose! The two -things seemed equally preposterous and impossible. - -At this juncture of affairs, curiously enough, there fell into the hands -of Dr. Amsden a book that offered a magical solution of the problem that -perplexed him,—viz., how to make love to the woman who had ensnared his -heart, without being conscious of doing it. This book was called “The Law -of Psychic Phenomena,” and its central theory was that the “subjective -mind,” or soul, of any person, by a process of auto-suggestion, may -enter into communication with the subjective mind of another person, -at any distance whatsoever. A condition of sleep, either cataleptic or -natural, is induced by the agent in himself; but previously to falling -to sleep he must concentrate his whole mental energy and will-power upon -the determination to convey a certain image, or message, or both to the -subjective mind of the person with whom he wishes to communicate. Then -away goes his spirit—his phantasm—while he is buried in unconscious -slumber, appears in his very image to the person designated, and delivers -the message with his very voice and manner. Truly, a marvelous theory, -and of untold significance to timid lover’s and bashful solicitors of -every kind. - -According to this theory, Dr. Amsden, in order to make telepathic love -to Miriam Foote, need simply drop to sleep, on a certain night, with a -strong determination to send his phantasm to the young woman with an -eloquent plea of affection. That was all. It was not even necessary for -him to furnish the general substance, introduction, or any portion of -this glowing address. He need simply specify that it should be passionate -and rich in verbal color,—ordering a proposal much as he would a dinner -at a first-class hotel, with perfect confidence that at the proper time -it would be served in proper form. To be sure, this method of wooing was -not in strict accordance with the traditional etiquette of such affairs. -It might even be considered that this proposal by a sort of phantasmal -proxy was hardly fair to the object of the experiment. A ghost is, after -all, but a ghost, whether it be attached to a bodily tenement or be -simply a spirit at large, and even the most heavenly minded young woman -might cherish a prejudice in favor of a fleshly lover. On the other hand, -however, the choice lay not between two methods of wooing, but between -this and none at all; and how easy, how delightful a method of making a -proposal of marriage. It could all be performed, like a painful surgical -operation, during merciful sleep. Then the lover when next he met the -lady in his every-day person would know by her manner whether she had -accepted or rejected him. The more Dr. Amsden considered this fascinating -project the more trivial seemed his scruples against its fulfilment. -Indeed, he asked himself judicially, was it not a fundamental doctrine of -metaphysics that only the soul was real, and so-called matter was simply -the shadow cast by the spirit? This being the case, his vulgarly named -ghost was in reality no ghost at all, while his bodily presence was the -real phantasm. - -Having arrived at this comfortable, though to the lay mind slightly -abstruse, conclusion, Amsden wavered no longer. “I will do it,” he said, -jumping to his feet. “I will do it to-night—or—no, a few days must -be given to subduing the flesh and concentrating the energies of the -subjective mind. On Saturday evening, at the time of my regular weekly -call, I will make an end to this painful uncertainty. Though I cannot but -hope that she looks upon my suit with favor, I shall never dare to broach -the subject of love openly in the flesh. My ghost—or, at least, what is -vulgarly known as a ghost—shall speak, and I will abide by the result.” - -On his return from dinner that evening Dr. Amsden locked all the doors -and darkened all the windows of his apartments. Then, after smoking a -meditative cigar, he went to bed. It was barely eight o’clock in the -evening when his head touched the pillow, but, as he had planned to send -his image to Miss Foote at precisely nine o’clock, before that young -lady should have retired to her chamber, he wished to have ample time to -get himself to sleep. Besides, he was really tired and drowsy, which was -certainly a favorable condition for his experiment. He had feared that -he would be excited and nervous; but already the suggestion of sleep -which he had been constantly reiterating for the past hour was beginning -to tell upon his brain. The formula, “I am about to go to sleep, I am -becoming sleepy, I sleep,” was having a most magical effect. - -Dr. Amsden dropped into the misty chasm of slumber in less than fifteen -minutes after getting to bed. But that fifteen minutes had been spent in -strenuous command, on the part of the objective mind, that the subjective -mind should go, at precisely nine o’clock, to the home of Miss Foote, -present itself in the exact and correct image of the lover, and make an -ardent appeal to the affections of the lady. - -In about two hours Amsden awoke, bathed in perspiration, and feeling -thoroughly exhausted. He was not conscious of having dreamed at all, -and yet it seemed to him as if he had just shaken off a most horrible -nightmare. He arose, lit the gas, and consulted his watch. It was just -ten o’clock. “Thank heaven,” he cried, “I did not wake before the time!” -He went back to bed, and fell instantly into the deep slumber of complete -exhaustion, from which he did not wake until late the next morning. - -For two days he did not see Miss Foote. Then he summoned up courage to -call upon her. She came downstairs looking pale and anxious, and the -moment that Amsden’s eyes fell upon her his heart began to throb with -suffocating violence. Undoubtedly his experiment had succeeded as far -as the proposal was concerned—but should his attitude be that of the -accepted or rejected lover? - -Hardly noticing his stammering expressions of solicitude for her altered -looks, Miriam led the way into the drawing-room, and, motioning him to -a chair, seated herself in a dim corner at the other side of the room. -Then, with her blue eyes lowered and her fingers twisting nervously, she -said:— - -“Dr. Amsden, I owe you an apology. When you called two nights ago and -asked me to be your wife I was too much agitated to answer you. To tell -the truth,” she continued, reddening a little, “the eloquence of your -words, their poetry and melody, so surprised and overcame me that I could -not answer as you deserved. When I left you and walked to the other side -of the room it was only that I might gain possession of myself, and when -I looked up and found you gone—” - -“Gone!” exclaimed Amsden, groaning audibly. - -“Yes, gone like a spirit (here Miss Foote paused, while Amsden clutched -at his chair, feeling as though his whole body were turning to sand and -dribbling down upon the floor) without a word of good-bye, I feared that -I had mortally offended you and that you would never come back to—” - -“Then you were not angry because my ghost—because I left like a ghost? -You wanted me to come back? But why?” - -“I—I think you ought to know,” said the girl, blushing. - -And the next moment Dr. Amsden was kneeling at her feet. - -“I did it in a dream—no, I don’t mean that—I mean this is a dream. I -ought to explain.” - -“No, don’t try. I understand,” said Miriam softly. - -The girl’s head sank forward on his shoulder. She was crying a little, -but she suffered her lover’s arms to slip around her waist, and into his -trembling hand she pressed her own. - -It was done, the impossible, the inconceivable! And even Amsden felt in -his heaving heart that he had never done anything so easy and so utterly -delightful in his whole life. - -It was true that Miriam did not understand, but Amsden felt that at such -a juncture any explanations would be not merely out of place, but even -indelicate. - -To his credit be it said, however, that on one occasion before his -marriage he attempted to confess to Miriam all the circumstances of his -proposal; but while he was still struggling with his introduction she -stopped him with a peremptory gesture. - -“I don’t understand a word about subjective and objective minds,” she -said, in a wounded voice. “All I know is that you made me the most -beautiful proposal I had ever heard—I mean imagined—but of course if you -want to take it back by saying that you were not responsible at the time—” - -Whereupon Amsden was obliged to consume two delightful hours in assuring -his sweetheart that he was a blundering fool, and that his metaphysical -nonsense, translated, meant that it was his best self that had made that -eloquent proposal, and that he was only afraid his every-day self was not -one tenth good enough for her. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Prince Ward. - -BY CLAUDE M. GIRARDEAU. - - -The hospital was almost finished, but, as there were several wards -still unendowed, the board of managers gave a reception. Ostensibly, to -enable a curious public to inspect the building; in reality, to obtain -benefactions. Among the visitors was a Mr. Prince, a Southerner, and -reputed wealthy. He seemed greatly interested in the hospital, and -selected for endowment a single ward on the second floor, department of -surgery. It was at once completed at his expense and christened with his -name. - -Its first occupant was his wife. She looked like a dying woman to the -superintendent, but he entered her case on the new books without comment, -and she was examined by the surgeons in charge. They advised an immediate -operation as the only hope—and that a slight one—of saving her life. In -fact, they knew she could not recover either with or without it; but the -operation would be an interesting one. - -“I did not think I was so ill,” said Mrs. Prince pathetically, as the -nurse took her back to her room. - -“Guess she hasn’t looked in a glass lately,” was the attendant’s unspoken -comment. - -“She looks for all the world like a starved cat,” she said to another -nurse, later on, “with her big green eyes and her black hair. Won’t I -have a sweet time combing all that hair? It’s about two yards long. She’s -more hair than anything else.” - -The morning of the operation found Mrs. Prince cold with nervous terror. - -“Do you think I will suffer much?” she inquired of the nurse tremulously. - -“Oh, no, indeed,” replied that functionary, with professional -cheerfulness, plaiting away at the endless lengths of hair. “If I was -you, I’d have about half of this cut off.” - -Mrs. Prince looked at the long, heavy plaits, then up at the nurse, her -gray eyes darkening. - -“If you cannot take care of it,” she said quietly, “I will tell the -superintendent to send me another woman.” - -The nurse colored. - -“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said awkwardly. - -When the toilet of the condemned was completed Mr. Prince came in with a -huge handful of roses, smiling genially as his eyes fell on his wife. - -“Why, P’tite, you look like John Chinaman in that funny shirt.” - -She smiled in return, but wanly. - -“I suppose I do look absurd.” She held out her arms; he filled them with -the roses, and sat down by the narrow bed. She turned aside her head to -hide the sudden tears. He drew her plaits of hair from neck to heel and -bent to kiss her cheek as the doctors came in to administer ether. - -“Madame Kanaris is here,” he said softly, “and begs to see you. May she -come in?” - -“Madame Kanaris!” She stared up at him with dilating eyes. “When did she -come to B⸺? What is she doing here?” - -“The nurse said I might come in for one little moment,” said an -exquisitely melodious voice at the door directly facing the sick woman. - -The men all looked up. A woman, young, beautiful as the day, stood on -the threshold, her tender deep blue eyes fixed upon the patient with an -expression of the liveliest emotion. - -Her radiant hair, her dazzling complexion, her superb figure enveloped -in furs, and the indescribable grace of her attitude made the sick woman -appear grotesquely skeleton-like and ghastly. - -It was Life confronting Death. Death raised itself upon an emaciated arm, -and spoke to Life:— - -“I cannot see you now, madame. The physicians have just come in, as you -see. I beg that you will go away.” - -Prince sprang to his feet and approached the visitor. - -“I did not know the physicians would be here,” he murmured. “Shall I take -you downstairs? Will you wait for me in the parlors?” - -While he was speaking to Madame Kanaris his wife motioned to a surgeon. -“I am ready. But, O doctor, are you sure it will make me quite dead? Are -you sure I shall not be just iced over, with a frightful consciousness -underneath? Are you sure?” - -“Quite sure,” said the surgeon pityingly, stealing a glance at the -figures in the doorway. “You will be blotted out of existence during the -operation. Do not be afraid.” - -He took her cold hand into a warm, compassionate palm. In a few seconds -she was carried past her husband and Madame Kanaris, who were still -talking in the corridor. - -Prince was startled as the procession of doctors and nurses came out of -the room. - -His companion glanced at them, and her brilliant color faded. - -“Do not leave me,” she gasped, holding him by the arm. “Take me away. I -should not have come.” - -Prince hesitated. The stretcher was being carried into the elevator. He -turned to the beautiful, agitated woman beside him, drew her hand through -his arm, and they went downstairs together. - -The operation was long, difficult, and dangerous, taxing both nerve and -skill. The operating-room was very hot. One of the nurses fainted, and a -young doctor, sick at heart and stomach, helped her away, glad to get out -himself. - -The operating surgeon, a keen, self-possessed practitioner, looked at the -patient when all was over, with a deep breath of relief. - -“The very worst case of its kind I ever saw,” he remarked to a colleague. -“It will be a miracle if she recovers, although I would give one of my -ears to make it possible.” - -After three days of delirium and torture the woman died. - -It was the twenty-eighth day of February. - -Madame Kanaris came into the ward alone, and stood for a few moments -looking down at the face on the narrow pillow. - -“She could never have recovered in any event?” she said questioningly to -the nurse. - -“I don’t see how she could,” was the calm reply. - -Madame put out a flashing hand. - -“May I see?” she said with delicate curiosity. - -The nurse lifted a layer of batting. - -The beautiful visitor gave a cry of dismay and clapped the hand to her -face. - -“I thought it would make you sick,” said the nurse quietly. “I guess you -had better go to the window.” - -Madame stood with her lace handkerchief pressed to her lips and gazed -upon the ice and snow without. - -Presently she said:— - -“Mr. Prince desires the hair of his wife. Will you kindly cut off the -plaits close to the head.” - -“It does seem a pity,” observed the nurse, snipping at the plaits -stolidly, “to take the only thing from her she seemed to care much about. -I guess they can bury my hair with me.” - -“She is not to be buried,” replied madame softly, still gazing upon the -whiteness without. “It would be a pity to burn such splendid hair, would -it not?” - -“Oh!” said the nurse, “I see. Going to send her to the new crematory?” - -“Are you a New Englander?” gently inquired the lady, turning her dark -blue eyes upon the inquisitive attendant. - -“I guess I am. Why?” - -“I have always heard that New Englanders asked a great many questions.” - -The nurse colored and snapped the scissors vigorously through the last -strands of hair. The thick, short locks stuck out stiffly behind the dead -woman’s ears. The nurse held out the snakelike braids to Madame Kanaris, -who drew back a little. - -“Please put them in this box for me,” she said quickly. “Mr. Prince will -send for it.” - -In leaving the room she touched the dead forehead lightly with a finger, -crossed herself, and murmured something in a strange tongue. - -“Catholic, I guess,” sniffed the nurse, watching her as she went down -the corridor, with that mingling of envy and unwilling admiration that -the beautiful Greek always succeeded in implanting in the bosoms of her -less-favored sisters. - -In a few days’ time Prince and Madame Kanaris returned to the hospital -with a picture they desired hung in the ward. It might have been -an idealized portrait of Mrs. Prince,—the face of a saint against a -background of sunset, or the head of a martyr dark against flame, as the -imagination of the beholder should suggest. - -The frame was oval with an inscription below the head. It was also heavy, -of plaited bronze, with a boxlike backing. It was the work of a finished -artist, however, and, being idealized, the portrait was beautiful. It was -hung above the bed, as the other wall spaces were occupied with cheerful -landscapes. - -Madame Kanaris laid a loose bunch of pomegranate flowers on the -pillow beneath it, and she and Prince left B⸺ the next day—as they -thought—forever. - - * * * * * - -The new hospital was a popular one, but for some reason the Prince Ward -remained vacant. There was nothing mysterious about this; it had been -bespoken many times for patients, but a change of mind would occur so -naturally that at first nothing was thought of it. In a year or so, -however, the continued vacancy began to be a subject of remark among the -nurses. But they were too busy and too practical to regard it in any -other light than that of a provoking pecuniary loss to the establishment. - -One night in January the night nurse of the second floor, at one end of -which was the Prince Ward, sat drowsily waiting for medicine periods or -the sound of bells from the various rooms. - -It was the last night of her watch, and she was worn out from a month’s -sleeplessness. - -Toward midnight the tinkle of a bell roused her. She went from door to -door trying to place it. As she neared the Prince Ward it sounded again. - -She paused at the door. - -“Very strange,” she thought; “surely there is no one in here?” - -But to make sure she went in. The room was icy cold. - -A low moan came from the narrow bed. - -“Water!” murmured a voice inarticulately. “Water!” - -“Wait until I turn on the light,” said the nurse, going towards the -chimney-place. She stepped on something, tripped, would have fallen; -caught at the bed and grasped a long thick rope of hair. She lifted it -and laid it alongside the figure it evidently belonged to. - -“Water, water!” moaned the inarticulate voice again, close to her ear. -The nurse went out, much puzzled, and returned with a glass. Two icy -hands touched hers as she held it to the lips. - -“How cold you are!” she exclaimed, “and this room is like a frozen—frozen -tomb,” she added. “You must get warm.” - -“No, no!” said the voice, ending in a low, wailing moan. - -The nurse looked curiously down at the face on the pillow. Scarcely -anything was visible but two large dark eyes and two immensely long -snake-like plaits of hair. - -“Did you come in to-night? Are you waiting for an operation?” asked the -perplexed nurse. - -“Yes.” The voice was inarticulate again. - -“How strange the day nurse or the head nurse did not tell me. I don’t -know what to make of it, at all. You are sure you do not want any light -or heat?” - -The reply was so inarticulate that she bent down to listen. A faint odor -turned her quite sick. She went out hastily into the corridor, leaving -the door ajar. She was worried; nay, more, she was conscious of a feeling -a trained nurse has no excuse for. She had a crawly sensation along her -spine. - -“I must be dreaming,” she said to herself angrily. - -She went back to her chair and table, and, in spite of heaviness and -sleepiness, listened for the bells with a qualm of absolute fright -whenever the sound came from the end of the corridor. - -At last, just before daybreak, the bell she was straining her ears for, -rang again. - -She plunged her head into cold water, took a glass in her hand, and -approached the Prince Ward. For a second she paused at the door; a wild -impulse to dash down the glass of water and rush shrieking through the -corridor almost overpowered her for a heart-beat. Then her training -reasserted itself; she smiled satirically in her own face and went in, -leaving, nevertheless, the door wide open behind her. She paused beside -the bed. - -“Thirsty again? I have brought some water for you.” - -She slid a hand to lift the head. She bent over the pillow with a steady -glass. - -The bed was empty. It was not even made up. There were no sheets on it, -no pillow-slip. - -The room was like a frozen tomb. The glass dropped from her hand, -deluging the mattress with its contents. - -She rushed from the room. Fortunately, her felt slippers made no sound. -The door swung to noiselessly behind her. She fled up the corridor, and -flattened her back against the wall at its furthest end, shaking as with -a mortal chill. - -There she remained until the gray light of a snowy day crept through the -window at her side. - -When the day nurse, rosy and refreshed, came to relieve her, she said, -eying the night nurse a little curiously: - -“I guess you’d better tumble into bed as soon as you can, Miss Evans. You -look as if your month’s work had about finished you.” - -The nurse whose turn came next was the one who had been with Mrs. Prince. -The last night of her watch was the twenty-seventh of February. She had -had an unusually hard month’s work, and was exceedingly tired and not a -little cross when, at midnight, a bell rang which she could not locate. - -“Some plaguey wire out of gear again,” she said, provoked, after a -second, fruitless search for the elusive tinkle. She had turned at the -end of the corridor, and stood just by the Prince Ward. The bell rang -sharply. - -“Well, I want to know!” she said aloud. “If it isn’t in this ward!” - -She went in immediately and would have turned on the light, when she was -stopped by a curiously familiar, though indistinct, voice. - -“Water—water!” - -“For the land’s sake,” ejaculated the Down-Easter, going toward the bed. -“What’s this?” - -Her foot slipped on something; she tripped and came near falling. She -stooped and lifted from the floor a long, heavy plait of black hair. She -stood stupidly, holding it in her hands, staring down at the bed. - -“If I was you,” she said mechanically, “I’d have about half of this cut -off.” - -Two large dark eyes stared up at her. - -“Why!” she stammered, too stupid to know when she was frightened, too -trained a nurse to understand, “Why, you died!” - -A low laugh echoed in the room. - -“How cold you are in here,” the nurse went on. “What will you have?” - -“Water,” said the thick voice inarticulately. - -The nurse went out. As she closed the door behind her she was seized with -a sudden cold shaking. - -She went to the room of the head nurse and woke her. - -“Say, Mrs. Waxe, who’s the patient in the Prince Ward? Why wasn’t I told -about her?” Mrs. Waxe was wide awake instantly. - -“Prince Ward? There’s nobody in the Prince Ward, Miss Hall.” - -“Yes, there is, too. I’ve just seen her and spoke to her. Seems to me -I’ve seen the woman before. But the one I knew died after the operation.” - -“What?” asked Mrs. Waxe keenly. She had been in the hospital only six -months, but she was a personal friend of Miss Evans. “Who was she?” Miss -Hall gave a brief account of the case. - -“What was her name?” inquired Mrs. Waxe, sitting up, large and alert. - -“Why, it was Prince,” said the night nurse. “She was the wife of the man -who endowed the ward.” - -Mrs. Waxe gazed for a moment into the stolid face before her. - -“I think you have had a dream,” she said calmly. - -“I don’t sleep on duty, whatever the others may do,” retorted Miss Hall. - -Mrs. Waxe lumbered out of bed, untying her cap strings. - -“Go back to the floor,” she said quietly. “I’ll be coming to you after a -bit.” - -She dressed quickly and presently waddled into the corridor. - -“Now, you go and get to sleep in my room, Miss Hall, and I’ll be taking -your place to-night.” - -The hospital was filled to overflowing with grippe cases. The epidemic -was raging in the city, and the Prince Ward was the only vacant spot in -the place. Its defective register had prevented its use. It could be but -insufficiently heated from the fireplace. - -Mrs. Waxe went to it at once and turned on the electric light. She then -stripped the bed of everything except the springs, carried the small -table to the other side of the room, put out the light, took up the hand -bell, and locked the door as she went out. - -She then sat down at the table in the corridor, opened a Bible, and began -to read. - -She had read perhaps fifteen minutes when a bell tinkled. Her long -experience enabled her to locate it almost immediately. She went to the -ward adjoining the Prince. - -No; the patient there had not rung for her, but was awake and sure the -bell next her on the right was the one. It had rung before. - -The Prince Ward was on the right. As Mrs. Waxe stepped into the corridor -the bell sounded again. - -It was in the Prince Ward. The Englishwoman was convinced that an ugly -trick was being played. - -Thoroughly indignant, she unlocked the door and stepped within. A low -moaning and a peculiar unpleasant odor arrested her progress towards the -electric button. The first turned her ruddiness pale; the second made -her sick. Her foot slipped; she stumbled, twisted her ankle, and, being -a heavy woman, she fell on her knees, catching at the bed-rail. A hand -crept upon her shoulder, striking cold through her gingham dress. - -“Water!” breathed a hoarse voice at her ear inarticulately. “Water!” - -In spite of the strained ankle, the head nurse got upon her feet. She -staggered out of the room, followed by the moaning cry of “Water—water.” - -She shut the door behind her and crept along the corridor, holding to the -wall; then called one of the private nurses and bade her light up the -Prince Ward. The woman did so, remained in the room a few moments, then -came back leisurely. - -“Well?” said Mrs. Waxe. - -“Well,” returned the nurse, “I opened the window. Did not know the ward -had been used lately. Pretty bad case, wasn’t it?” - -“Bad case?” repeated Mrs. Waxe, a light shining through her nostrils to -her brain. “Yes; perhaps.” - -“Perhaps?” repeated the private nurse satirically. “I guess I ought to -know by this time. I should say there hadn’t been much left of that case -to put under ground.” - -She went back to her case, wondering at the stupidity of the English -generally and in particular. - -Mrs. Waxe put her aching foot into hot water and meditated. - - * * * * * - -The twenty-eighth of February dawned dark, for a blizzard from the -northwest was blowing. It was the worst storm of the last half of the -century. - -Men were lost and frozen to death in the streets while going from their -business houses to their homes. - -A lady attempting to alight from a carriage at one of the railroad -stations, in order to make an outgoing train, slipped, or was blown down -upon the icy pavement. She was taken up insensible and carried to the -nearest hospital. - -“I do not think we have even a corner vacant,” said the superintendent; -“but of course she cannot leave the building now.” - -She sent for Mrs. Waxe. - -“The Prince Ward is unoccupied?” - -The head nurse glanced at the stretcher and hesitated. - -“Yes; but it is next to impossible to heat it, you know, doctor.” - -“Do the best you can,” replied the superintendent. “The woman should have -been taken to the Emergency, but you see what the weather is.” - -Mrs. Waxe divested the traveler of her velvet and furs, her lace and -linen, the bag of diamonds secreted in her bosom, her long perfumed -gloves, her silk underwear, her jeweled garters and hairpins. She left -nothing on her but the black pearls in her ears and the magnificent rings -on her fingers; then slipped a hospital shirt on her fair body, and -tucked her shining curls into a cap. The fall had fractured the bone of -one leg and several ribs. - -The ward surgeon, entering, started at the sight of the beautiful face -on the narrow pillow. Instantly the scene of two years before renewed -its living colors on the sensitive film of memory. He even recalled the -name of the woman before him, so deeply had that scene and her beauty -impressed him. - -“It is Madame Kanaris,” he said. - -The patient opened her dark blue eyes. - -“I am Mrs. Prince,” she corrected; “I wish to send a telegram to New York -at once.” - -She turned white; fainted again. The broken bones were attended to with -expedition. - -Before night the telegram was sent. There had been some delay of letters, -some misunderstanding that had sent Mrs. Prince to B⸺ by mistake. - -That lady’s brilliant eyes examined her surroundings. - -“I am in the ⸺ Hospital, in the Prince Ward?” she said presently. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Waxe, disturbed by the coincidence of names. - -“I selected the fittings and furniture for it,” Mrs. Prince went on -softly. “But I did not think, at the time, of myself.” She looked at the -picture above the bed. - -“You must have that picture taken down for me, Mrs. Waxe. I do not -like to have anything ‘hanging over me,’ even if it is the counterfeit -presentment of a saint.” - -An ugly sneer disfigured her delicate lips for a moment. - -“I will have it taken down as soon as possible,” said the head nurse; -“but it cannot be done immediately, my dear. We have sent out all the -nurses we can spare, and extra beds have been put in nearly every -ward. I am too heavy to risk myself on a ladder, but I will see the -superintendent about it after a bit. It is well fastened up, I assure -you.” - -Towards night, not hearing from Mr. Prince, madame grew nervous, then -feverish. - -In a sick-bed for the first time in her life, strapped immovably to -its narrow confines, her head beginning to throb with agony, she lay -suffocating with impatience, suspense, and apprehension, she,—the spoiled -darling of every good fortune. - -The raging storm shrieked unceasingly about the House of Pain like a -legion of infernal spirits. - -There were so many others more critically ill than herself, and the -number of nurses was so reduced, that she was of necessity left alone -much of the time. - -Just before midnight Mrs. Waxe came in, weary, but the embodiment of -strength and kindness. - -“I think,” she said coaxingly, “you must try and get to sleep. I shall -give you something to quiet you, and then turn off the light, and I hope -you will soon drop off. I shall be near you in the corridor. If you want -anything just tinkle the bell. Close to hand, you see, my dear.” - -She administered a draught, straightened the pillow, then bent down -impulsively and kissed the lovely, disquieted face maternally. Two -beautiful arms closed about her ample neck, and the patient was sobbing -on her generous bosom. - -“Come, come, you must be brave. They did not want me to tell you, but -a telegram came half an hour since for you. Your husband will be here -sometime toward morning. Will you go to sleep now, like a good child? Ah! -I thought so.” - -She turned off the light and went out, leaving the door half open. After -making the round of the corridor she dropped into a chair. Her head fell -forward on the table before her. In all her experience as a nurse she had -never done such a thing before,—she fell asleep at her post. - -She was roused by the sharp, continued ringing of a bell. She sat up, -dazed, rubbing her eyes. - -The superintendent, the resident physician, and a stranger were coming up -the wide staircase. The bell had never ceased its imperious, insistent -summons. - -Without stopping to think, the head nurse ran, ponderously but swiftly, -to the Prince Ward. As she stepped within the threshold the bell suddenly -ceased, but the air was vibrating. She ran to the mantelpiece, reached -up, and turned on the light. - -The three men were at the door, the fur-clad stranger, a tall and -handsome apparition, carrying a huge handful of roses. They all stared at -the figure of the head nurse. - -Petrified in position, her fingers on the key of the electric bulb, she -stood with her usually florid face, now paper white, turned over her -shoulder, her starting eyes fixed upon the bed. - -Mr. Prince entered quickly, then drew back with a loud cry of fear and -horror. The roses fell from his hands upon the edge of the bed and over -the floor. - -The heavy picture had dropped like a stone from its anchor in the -cornice. Its edge had struck the sick woman on breast and forehead, but -it had fallen painting upward. From beneath it uncoiled on either side -two immensely long, ropelike plaits of black hair, between which the -painted face smiled upon the white faces by the bedside. - -The superintendent was the first to recover his wits. He sprang forward, -lifted the picture, wondering at its weight. As he did so, the back, -loosened by the fall, fell to pieces; a heavy bronze jar rolled from -the face on the pillow, scattering a thin, fine, dust-like ashes that -powdered the luxuriant curls, and floated above the stiff, stripped -figure in a fine, impalpable cloud. - -Then the ashes settled slowly upon the lifeless body, upon the scattered -roses on the floor, and upon the splendid furs of the man who shrank -against the wall and put up his hands against the dreadful sight. - -[Illustration] - - - - -A Meeting of Royalty. - -BY MARGARET DODGE. - - -It was not according to the schedule that the special train, consisting -of a locomotive, an empty baggage car, and the regally equipped private -car, Priscilla, should stop for three quarters of an hour at Mayville -Junction. Indeed, in his instructions, the Great Man who was the car’s -sole occupant had provided for a wait of only five minutes. It is a -matter of record, however, that for forty-five minutes the official -train waited at the lonesome little station on the Indiana prairie. What -happened in those forty-five minutes is now for the first time given to -the public. - -After the Great Man—who was no other than the president of the A. M. & -P. Trunk Line, which joins the Atlantic Ocean with the Great Lakes—after -the Great Man had taken a perfunctory turn about the little station and -had asked a few stereotyped questions of the station agent, he went back -to his seat in the Priscilla’s white-and-gold drawing-room, and sat down -to a game of solitaire. Being a very young president—not over forty—the -Great Man was not specially fond of solitaire. But he was still less fond -of the thoughts engendered by a two weeks’ solitary tour of inspection -through the flat, drab, malarial country of the middle West. After -prolonging his luncheon to the latest possible hour, and extracting all -the comfort to be obtained from a single mild cigar, he found himself -longing to exchange his gold-and-white grandeur for even the plebeian red -velvet of a day coach, where he could observe the vagaries of country -bridal couples, and invite the confidence of smudgy small boys with prize -packages of magenta lozenges. - -It was while the Great Man was indulging in these vain visions, much to -the detriment of his success at solitaire, that he was startled by these -words, spoken in a shrill little voice, apparently just at his back: - -“If you please, sir, are you the king?” - -The moment that elapsed before the Great Man could whirl about in -the direction of the voice was long enough for several detached bits -of “Alice in Wonderland” to flit through his brain. What he saw, -however, when faced around, was simply a very solemn, very pale little -girl who stood with one thin hand on the door knob, and one small -scarlet-stockinged leg well advanced, while her hazel eyes gleamed at him -anxiously from under a fuzzy brown hat. - -“Really,” said the Great Man, good humoredly, “I don’t know—why, yes, now -that you speak of it—I suppose I am a sort of king. At least, I believe -newspapers call me a railroad king. Won’t you come here and sit down?” - -The small girl shut the door and slid to his side in a gait that combined -a hop and a glide. “I suppose it isn’t just the thing to sit down in—in -the presence of royalty,” she said, as she perched on the edge of a big -tapestry-cushioned Turkish chair. “But, you see, I am a princess myself—a -fairy princess,”—she added, with an emphatic shake of her fluffy yellow -locks. - -“Indeed.” The “Alice in Wonderland” memories suddenly revived. “That’s -very interesting, and I don’t like to doubt the word of a lady. But all -the fairy princesses of my acquaintance have had wings and spangles, and -carried star-tipped wands—and—and all that,” concluded the Great Man -vaguely. - -“But that was because you saw them during the performance,” said the -small girl, clasping her thin little fingers over one scarlet-stockinged -knee. “I wear wings and spangles and carry a wand myself, in the -evenings, and at the Wednesday and Saturday matinées. I’m the Princess -Iris,” she explained, “in the Golden Crown Opera Company; and if I wore -my fairy clothes all the time my wings would fade and the spangles would -wear off. - -“But you know,” said the small girl, “you don’t look a bit like the kings -of my acquaintance. They all wear gilt crowns and velvet and ermine -robes, and carry scepters. And, besides, you are a great deal too young.” - -The Great Man laughed. “I am afraid you have me there; at least, I -mean, I suppose you are right,” said he, leaning back in his chair and -regarding the Princess Iris with twinkling eyes. “I don’t look my part. -But, then, I am not performing now myself. We are in the same boat—that -is—” - -“Oh, you needn’t bother to explain,” said the small girl, “I understand -slang. Only I don’t talk it myself, now, except when I forget, because -the Queen doesn’t like it.” - -“So there is a queen, too, is there?” said the Great Man, the merry lines -around his blue eyes growing deeper. “Dear me, we shall soon have the -entire royal family.” - -“Yes, there is a queen, and she is not to be laughed at,” said the -child gravely. “In fact, it’s partly about her I’ve come. I—I wanted an -audience.” - -“Well, really,” said the man nervously, “I should like to accommodate -you, but”—looking at his watch—“my train leaves in about one minute, and -I don’t see exactly how I can.” - -“Oh, my!” said the small girl, “can’t you even make your own train wait -while a princess talks to you?” - -“Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can,” said the Great Man, -pressing an electric button. Then, as the black porter appeared, listened -deferentially to his whispered order and glided out again, the royal -personage continued: - -“Very likely I don’t get half the fun out of being a king that I might. -You see, I sometimes forget the extent of my power.” - -“Ah! yes, that’s the very thing I’ve come to speak to you about,” said -the child. “I—I hope you will excuse me if I hurt your feelings,” she -went on gently, “but sometimes it’s necessary, you know.” - -Upon her hearer’s assurance that he would endeavor to bear up under -censure, the small girl continued: - -“It’s like this: I s’pose you’ve such a big kingdom you don’t get a -chance to straighten out all the things that go wrong.” - -“And something has gone wrong, now, has it?” - -“Yes, as wrong as can be. But,” reassuringly, “of course I understand you -couldn’t have known about it. It’s the train to Washita. It was put down -on the time-table, you know, to go at four this afternoon, and we all -came down to the station to get it. And now they say it may be two hours -before it arrives; so, instead of getting to Washita at half-past six, it -will be long after nine, and we’ll be too late to give our performance. -And that will be a very d-r-eadful loss to the Queen.” - -“How’s that?” said the Great Man. “One night can’t make very much -difference.” - -“Oh, but this is Saturday night, and the whole house was sold long ago. -Washita’s the best show town in the State, you know, and the Queen was -counting on the money. - -“You see, it’s been a dreadfully poor season in the profession, and even -the Queen has lost heaps. And just now when she found out we’d be late, -her face got all white, and she hung onto my hand, oh, so hard, and said—” - -Here the child stopped suddenly and, digging her little fists into the -chair, blinked very fast and caught her breath. Then, - -“It quite upsets me to think of it,” she said in a muffled little voice. -“The Queen said that she was afraid that the company would have to -disband now, and the season’s hardly begun.” - -Two great tears rolled down the white little face. - -The man stirred uneasily. There was a deep line between his eyebrows. - -“That is hard luck!” he exclaimed. “But, then,” with an affected -hardihood, “after all she’s only a play queen, you know, and I presume -she’s—well—roughed it before. Anyway, you’ll probably all find nice -engagements soon, and be just as well off as you are now.” - -“How can you say that?” the child flashed out. “Of course we can’t be so -happy with any one else. There never was any one half so sweet, and kind, -and beautiful as she is. And we all love her dearly. And, besides, if the -rest are make-believes, she isn’t; she is a real queen all the time!” - -The child had risen. Her shabby hat had fallen to the floor and her big -hazel eyes blazed angrily out of her pale little face. The next moment, -with a shame-faced lowering of her head, she slid nearer to the Great -Man’s side. - -“I—you must excuse me if I hurt your feelings,” she said humbly. “The -Queen wouldn’t like it if she thought I’d done that, and on her -account, too; but, you see, I really couldn’t bear to have her called -a make-believe. And now,” she continued, “I think I’ll go back to the -station. My auntie and the Queen will be wondering where I am.” - -“Wait a minute,” said the man, drawing the child to his side. “I want to -know more about this real Queen. You know they say all the royal families -are connected, and she may be a relative of mine.” - -“No, she isn’t,” said the small girl, leaning a little shyly against the -royal shoulder; “because she told me once that she had no relations left -since her father died. You see, she used to live in a big palace in New -York in the winter and a stone castle in Newport in the summer, and she -had horses, and carriages, and diamonds, and—and all those things. But -she wasn’t a queen because she had them, you know, but they belonged to -her because she was a queen. - -“Well, one day her father died, and they found he’d lost all his money, -and some that belonged to other people besides, so the Queen had to go on -the stage and get some money to take care of herself and to pay back what -he—he borrowed, you know. And that was four years ago, and now she’s paid -back all Mr. Denbigh’s debts except two thousand dollars—” - -“Mr. Denbigh!” - -“Why, what’s the matter?” said the child half turning. “Ain’t you feeling -well? Your arm trembles so.” - -“Oh, yes; quite well. Only I felt so sorry for your Queen.” - -“I knew you would,” said the child enthusiastically. “Well, as I told -you, she paid it all back except just that two thousand dollars, and this -season she expected to finish it. And that made her so happy, because she -doesn’t like being a make-believe queen, and it was only on her father’s -account she did it.” - -“You’re sure it was only that? She didn’t care to be famous, after all?” -said the Great Man, clutching the tiny hand hard. - -“Why, how queer your voice sounds,” said the little girl in a motherly -tone. “I’m sure you can’t be feeling well or you wouldn’t say such -things. I should think that being a king yourself you’d know that when -a person’s been a real queen once she wouldn’t care about being a -make-believe one.” - -“But that’s just like men; they never do understand. Now there was one -that the Queen knew. She told me just a little about him one day when -things seemed very make-believey to her. She put it in a kind of story, -you know, but I liked her so much I knew who it was about. - -“Do you know, he thought just what you did, because she wouldn’t marry -him instead of going off for what he called a—a ‘career’? And he’d known -her ever since she was a little girl, too, and ought to have known -better, oughtn’t he?” - -“Yes,” said the Great Man huskily, “I suppose he ought. But you see the -Queen didn’t tell him about—about the money she was paying back. And she -was a great deal younger than he, and beautiful, with a voice that people -said would make her famous, and he thought that she really cared more to -be a stage queen than anything else. - -“Tell me, dear, has she still the ring that he gave her when she was a -little girl?” - -“The teenty little forget-me-not ring that she wears on a chain and often -kis— But—how did you know?” stammered the child, twisting around and -staring up into his face. “I never told you the rest, and your eyes are -so strange—” - -But the Great Man had risen and was striding rapidly up and down the car. -“And Alice really cared for me—she cares for me still,” he murmured. -“While I, who ought to have stood by her have only hindered her. And now -she needs help, and I with all my money haven’t the right to help her. -It’s too late—I can never make up for the time I’ve lost—” - -“I hope you don’t mind,” said the small girl who stood as if petrified -just where he had left her; “but you spoke so loud I couldn’t help -hearing the last. And if you mean the train to Washita, it isn’t too -late. If you could get it here in fifteen minutes—and I s’pose that’s -easy, for a king—we could give the performance, even if the curtain did -ring up late.” - -“Train to Washita,” murmured the Great Man—“Why, yes; of course! How -stupid of me,” as he pressed the electric button. “Let’s see, how many -are there of you?” - -“Twenty-two now,” said the child, “but I don’t quite—” - -“And you haven’t had the best of fare in the hotels?” - -“Well, it hasn’t been very bad, but yesterday and to-day we’ve pretended -we didn’t want any lunch, because we knew how things were with—” - -“Never mind,” said the man with something like a groan, “I only wanted to -know on account of the orders.” - -Then, to the porter, “Ask the conductor to step here.” - -“The Golden Crown Opera Company have been delayed here,” he said, when -that official appeared, “and I want them to take this special train to -Washita. Put the whole party in my private car. Tell the engineer he must -make extra time to get them there at six-thirty. Telegraph ahead for a -clear track, and to Casstown for supplies, so that dinner may be served -in this car. When the train is ready to start step over to the station -and tell the company that the train for Washita is waiting. And be sure -that everything is done to make them comfortable. I will follow on the -regular express.” - -As the conductor withdrew, the Great Man found himself suddenly caught in -the embrace of what seemed a small-sized tornado. “You really mean it?” -cried the child, half sobbing. “We’re not going to disband, after all! -Oh, I was sure from the beginning that you were a really, truly king, -even if you didn’t wear a crown and velvet robes. But,” with a sudden -clouding of her face, “you won’t go away just when the Queen’s coming?” - -“Well, you see, the fact is,” said the Great Man, setting the Princess -carefully in the depths of the Turkish chair, “these meetings with -royalty are so unusual for me that I feel hardly prepared for another one -the same day. So I think I’ll follow in a common car. 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But they want only the most fascinating stories -that can be told,—stories that both in plot and handling are outside of -the beaten path of fiction,—stories so full of incident and movement and -so cleverly handled as to interest every one,—stories tersely told, which -never, either in whole or part, have appeared in print before, and which -are free from padding, foreign phrases, and attempted fine writing. No -dialect stories, poetry, or translations will be considered. - -To receive attention, all manuscripts must bear the writer’s full name -and address, together with the number of words, which may range from -fifteen hundred to five thousand, but must in no case exceed the latter -number; they must be very legibly written, sent unrolled, and accompanied -by addressed and stamped envelopes for their return. Manuscripts will -be received and returned only at the writer’s risk. 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