The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, October 02, 1909, Image 6
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1 A STORY OP
MYSTCRY. INVOLVING STARTLING
COMPLICATIONS 6- ADVCNTUR
U ANNA KATNCRlNt GREtr
W*? ueavtNWO?VM CA&fcJ 6tMlND CLOSE
CHAPTER XVI.
"Love."
B lay In the abandonment of
profound slumber, one hand
under her cheek, the other
hidden by the white spread
Deo had been careful to draw
about her. Both Mr. Harper
i Mr. Ransom regretted this fact,
?ach Instinctively felt that In her
If not In her sleeping face, they
be able to read the story of her
?lf that life had been a hard one,
aa Bust have befallen the waif,
ami He her hands should show it
Bat her hands were covered. And
e% sjr nearly so. was her face; the
by bar long and curling locks
beauty 1 have hitherto spok
sjnv Ost cheek only was visible, and
looked dark to Ransom,
ly darker than Georgian s; but
that the room Itself was
be forbore to draw the attention
#jf Ike lawyer to it, or even to allow
ft la affect his own Judgment to the
ejateat It reasonably called for.
?Is first scrutiny over. Mr. Harper
ejpetaeel orrer to hit old seat against
Mm wall Mr. Ransom remained by
Mm had. Aad thus began their watch.
It was a long and solemn one; s
waiting. The gloom and quiet
the small room was so profound
a beth men. for all their suspense
Ion in the event they
welcomed thn sound of a
whisper or the careful step
feet In the corridor without
If they turned to look they could
?a oatefc the outline of each other's
but this they did not
attempt Their attention was
by the silent figure on the bed.
so motionless was this figure In
profound slumber In which It lay
and so motionless were
la their Increasing suspense and
in, that time seemed to have
to a standstill In this little room,
nswre was one break. The lips which
.., mum hitherto remained mute opfned In
; ? ejaflat murmur, snd Mr. Harper.
(M waeuhiug bis client, saw him clutch
fha headboard in sudden emotion bo?
bs) finally rose and. with looks
ffijK fined on tee b*<1. approached him
announcement;
worn she whispered was
*%mWtrl It must be Georgian."
' A ras! the same thought struck them
' lath. Was this a proof? Mr. Rancom
hotIy *nd crept 8oftl>' hack to
Again time seemed to stop. Then
Mmwrm came a cautious rap on the door,
Sallowed by the hasty retreat of the
Jenson knocking. It caused Mr. Ran*
djaen to stir slightly, but did not affect
Mm lawyer. Suddenly the former rose
?jrKh every evidence of renewed aglta
Thls drew Mr. Harper from his
mt
nF/bat Is Itr he cried, softly ap
ilng the other and whispering.
01 after events proved that he
it nave spoken sloud with impun
!
Mr. Ransom pointed to her temple
which her hair had Just fallen
The reining here. I have often
atndied It I recognise Its every con
itton. It is Georgian, Georgian
Una then*? ah. she's stirring. wak>
tag! Let me go?"
^ He dragged himself from Mr. Harp?
er's detaining hand, bent over the
and murmured softly hut with
thrilling Intensity of a suffering
heart, the name which at that
tesit meant the whole wide world
!
"Georgian!"
Would she greet this expression
Paeogaitlon i.nd a smile? The lawyer
half expected her to and stepped near
gh to see, but the eyes which had
upon the white wall in front of
stared o i, and when they did turn
ws they did after one halting, agonls- :
fjtZ minute. It waa in response to some j
sr ?-ment cade by Mr. Ransom and '
la reply to his voice. I
This sudden and unexpected over?
throw of his secretly cherished hopes
was terrible. An he saw her rise on
erne elbow snd meet his gase with one
which revealed the astonishment and
resentment of a wild creature sud?
denly entrappod. he felt, or so he
?JuMYkAio? cvcmieu, as if the viper
I ch had hitherto el uns, cold and
4o*lhhke about tUl heart had sudden?
ly rrrung to life and stung him. It
a>M the moat uncanny moment of his
?fa.
, Aghast at the effect of this upon his
awn mind, he reeled from the room,
followed*, by the uiwyer. As they
sjassryl down the hall they heard her
voico raised to a scream in uncon?
trollable shame and inuignation. This
was followed by the snap of 1 et key
ra the lock.
They had made a great mistuke, or
so the lawyer decided wheu they
again stood face lo face In Mr. fun
aom's room. Thst the latter made no
Immediate answer was no proof that
ho did not coincide In the other's opln
loa. Indeed It was only too evident
thst he did, for his first words, when
he hsd controlled himself sufficiently
to speak, were these.
"I should have taken your ad'Mce.
In future 1 will. To me she is hence
for lb Anitra, and I shall treat Ler as
my wife's sister. Watch If I fail. Ani
tra! Anitra!" He reiterated the word
as If he would fix it in his mind as
well aa accustom his lips to it. Then
he wheeled about and faced Harper.
Whose eyes he doubtless felt on him.
"Yet I am not so thoroughly convinced
as to feel absolute peace here," he ad?
mitted, striking his breast with irre?
pressible passion. "My good sense
tells me I am a fool, but my heart
whispers that the sweetness in her
sleeping face was the sweetness which
won me to love Georgian Hazen. That
gentle sweetness! Did you note it!"
"Tea, I noted what you mention.
But don't let that influence you too
much. The wildest heart has its
tender moments, ai d her dreams may
hare been pleasant ones."
Mr. Ransom remembered her un?
conscious whisper and felt stunned,
silenced. The lawyer gare no evi?
dence of observing this, but remarked
quite easily and with evident sincer?
ity:
"I am more readily affected by proof
than you are. I am quite convinced
myself, that our wits have been wool?
gathering. There was no mistaking
her look of outraged womanhood. It
was not your wife who encountered
your look, but the deaf Anitra. Of
course, you won't believe me. Yet I
advise you to do so. It would be too
dreadful to find that this woman real?
ly is your wife."
"Wnatr
"I know what I am saying. Noth?
ing much worse could happen to you.
Don't you see where the hypothesis to
which you persist in clinging would
land yoq? Should the woman la
there prove to be your wife Georgian
?" The lawyer stopped and, in a
tone the seriousness of which could
not fall to Impress his agitated hear?
er, added quietly, "you remember
what I said to you a short time ago
about guilt"
"Guilt!"
"No, the word was shame. But
guilt better expresses my meaning. I
repeat, shouldexhe woman prove to be,
not the lovely but ignorant girl she
appears, but Georgian Ransom, your
wife, then upon her must fall the onus
of Anltra's disappearance if not of her
possible death. No! you must hear
me-out; the time haa come for plain
speaking. Yd?r wife had her reasons
?we do not know what they were,
but they were no common ones?for
wishing this intrusive sister out of the
way. Anitra, on the contrary, could
have desired nothing so much as the
preservation of her protector. The
conclusion la not an agreeable one.
Let us hope that the question it in?
volves will never be presented for
any man's consideration."
Mr. Ransom sank speechless into a
chair. This last blow was an over?
whelming one and he bank before it
Mr. Harper altered his tone. He
had real commiseration for his client
and had provided himself with an anti?
dote to the poison he had just go ruth?
lessly administered.
"Courage!" he cried. "I only wish
"Georgian is dead) Yon hear me, Geor?
gian it deadl"
sd you to see that there were worse
losses to consider than that of your
wife's desertion, even if that deser?
tion took the form of suicide. There
is a reason which you have forgotten
for acquitting Mrs. Ransom of sucn
criminal Intentions and of accepting
as your sister-in-law the woman who
calls herself Anitra. Recall Mrs. Ran?
som's will; the general terms oi which
I felt myself Justified in confiding to
I you. In it there are no provisions
made for Ulfa Anitra. Had Mrs. R in
som. for any Inexplicable reason,
planned an exchange of identities with
her sorely afflicted sister, she would
j have been careful to have left that
i slator some portion of her great, for?
tune. But she did not remember her
with a cent. This fact is very signifi?
cant and should give you great com?
fort."
"it should. It should, In face of the
other alternative you have suggested
as possible. But I fear that 1 am
past comfort, it all means woe and
disaster to me. 1 have made a mesB
of my life and 1 have got to face the
fact like a man."
Then rising and confronting Mr.
Harper with passionate intensity, he
called out till the room rang again:
""Georgian is dead! You bear me,
Georgian is dead!"
CHAPTER XVII.
"I Don't Hear."
Tr "" HE afternoon passed without
further developments. Mr.
HarPer, wno had his own
1 ^rr imperative engagements, left
ou the evening train for New York,
promising to return the next day in
case his presence seemed indispensa?
ble to his dient.
That client's final word to him had
been ac injunction to keep an eye on
Georgian's so-called brother and to re?
port how he had been atiected by the
news from Sitford; and when, in the
lull following the lawyer's departure,
Mr. Ransom sat down in his room to
look his own position resolutely <n the
face, this brother and his possible
connection with the confusing and un?
happy Incidents of this last fatal week
regained that prominent place in his
thoughts which the doubts engendered
by the usual character of these inci?
dents had for a while dispelled.
What had been the hold of this
strange and uncongenial man on
Georgian ? And was his reappearance
at the same time with that of a sup?
posedly long deceased sister simply
a coincidence so startling as to ap?
pear unreal?
He had not seen Anitra again and
did not propose to, unless the meet*
ing came about in a natural way and
without any show of desire on his
part The landlady, with a delicacy
he highly appreciated, cared for the
young girl without making her con?
spicuous by any undue attention. The
quiet of the night remained unbroken
for everybody; even poor Mr. Ransom
slept. He was up, however, with the
first beam entering his room. How
could he tell but that news of a
definite and encouraging nature await?
ed him?
At half-past ten the representative
of the county police called on Mr.
Ransom, but with small result. Short?
ly after his departure, the mail came
in and with it the New York papers.
These he read with avidity. But they
added nothing to his knowledge. He
flung the papers from him and went
out to gather strength in the open air.
There was a corner of the veranda
into which he had never ventured. It
was likely to be a solitary one at this
hour, and thither he now went But
a shock awaited ..im there. A lady
was pacing i?3 still damp boards. A
lady who did not turn her head at his
step, but whom he instantly recog?
nized from her dress, and wilful but I
not ungraceful bearing, as her whom
he was determined to call, nay recog?
nize, as Anitra Hazen.
It was the first opportunity he had
had of observing her features in
broad daylight The effect was a con?
tused one. She was Georgian and she
was not Georgian. Her skin was de?
cidedly darker, her eyes more lus?
trous, her bearing less polished and
at the same time more impassioned.
Ehe was nc so tall or quite so ele?
gantly proportioned;?or was it her
rude method of dressing her hair and
the awkward cut of her clothes which
made the difference. He could not be
sure. Resolved as he was to consider
her Anitra, and excellent as his rea?
sons were for doing so, the swelling
of his heart as he met her eye roused
again the old doubt and gave an un?
natural tone to his voice as he ad?
vanced towards her with an impetuous
utterance of her name:
"Anitra!"
She shrunk, not at the word but at
his movement, which undoubtedly was
abrupt; but immediately recovered
herself and, meeting him half-way,
cried out in the unnaturally loud tones
of the very deaf:
"They don't bring my sister back.
She is drowned, drowned. But you
still have Anitra," she exclaimed in
child-like triumph. "Anitra will be
good to you. Don't forsake the poor
girl. She will go where you go and
bo very 0~t^J*1t rT"l not got angry
ever bgaUt"
He felt his hair rise. Something in
her loo^", something in her manner of
making evident the indefinable bar?
rier between them even while express?
ing her desire to accompany him,
made such a disturbance in his brain
that for the moment he no longer
knew himself, nor her, nor the condi?
tion of things about him. If she saw
the effect she produced, she gave
no evidence of it. She had begun to
smile and her smile transformed her.
The wild look which was never long
out of her eyes softened into a mild?
er gleam, and dimples he had been
accustomed to see around lips he had
kissed and called the sweetest in the
world flashed for a moment in the face
before him wUh a story of love he
dared not read, yet found it impossible
to forget or see unmoved.
"What trial is this into which my
unhappy fate has plunged me!"
thought he. "Can reason stand it?
Can I see this woman daily, hourly,
and not. go mad between ray doubts
and my love?"
His face had turred so stern that
even she noticed It Rnd in a trice the
offer ding dimples disappeared.
"You are angry," st.e pouted. "You
don't want Anttra. Nod if it is so, nod
and I will go away."
He did not nod; he could not. Sh<
ssemed to gather courage at this, and
though she did not smile again, sh?
gave him a happy look as she said:
"1 have no home now, nor an]
friend since slater has gone, i don';
want any if 1 can stay with you anc
learn things. 1 want to be like sister
8he was nice and wore pretty clothes
She gave me some, but I don't know
where they are. I don't like thif
dreds. It's black and all bad rouud
the bottom where I fell into the mud.'
She looked down at her dress. It
showed, in spite of Mrs. Deo's effort at
cleaning it signs of her tramp through
the wet laue. He looked at it too.
but it was mechanically. He waa
debating in h|s mind a formidable
question. Should he grasp her hand,
Insist that she was Goorgian and de?
mand her confidence and the truth?
or should he follow the lawyer's ad?
vice and continue to accept appear?
ances, meet her on her own ground
and give her the answer called for by
her lonely and forsaken position? He
found after a moment'* thought that
he had no choice; that be could not
do the first and must do the last.
"You shall come with me," Haid he
quietly. "I will see that you have
every suitable protection and care."
She surveyed him with the same un?
moved inquiry burning in her eyes.
"I don't hear," said she.
He looked at her, his lips set, hia
f eyes as inquiring as her own.
"I don't believe It," he muttered
just above his breath.
The steady stare of her eyes never
faltered.
"You loved sister, love me," she
whispered.
He fell back from her. This was
not Georgian. This was the untutor
/-*\
"I don't hear/1 said sba.
ed girl about whom Georgian had writ?
ten to him. Everything proved it,
even her hands upon which his eyes
now fell. Why had he not noticed
them before? He had meant to look
at them the first thing. Now that he
did, he saw that he might have
spared himself some of the miserable
uncertainties of the last few minutes.
They were small and slight like
Georgian's, but very brown and only
half cared for. That they were cared
for at all astonished him. But she
soon explained tl it. Seeing where
his eyes were flxtJ, she cried out:
"Don't look at my hands. I know
they are not real nice like sister's.
But I'm learning. She showed me
how to rub them white and cut the
nails. A woman didi it for me the
first time and I've been doing it ever
since, but they don't look like hers,
for all the pretty*" rings she bought
me. Was I foolish to want the rings?
I always had rings when I was with
the gipsies. They were not gold ones,
but I liked them, i Mother Duda
liked rings too and made me one once
out ot beads. It was cn my finger
when my sister fifefc me home with
her. That is why 3he brought me
these. She didn't .hir.k the bead one
was good enough, it wasn't much like
hers."
Ransom recalled the diamonds and
the rich sapphires .e had been accus?
tomed to see on hi. bride's hand.
But this did no*, engage him long,
gone method of communication must
be found with this ^irl, which could be
both definite and .nmistakable. Feel?
ing In his pocket, he brought out pen?
cil and a small pad. He would write
what he had to say, and was hesitat?
ing over the words with which to
open this communication, when he
taw her V "r.d throat itself between
his cyeB and the p d, and heard these
words uttered in a resolute tone, but
not without a hint of sadness:
"I cannot resd. I have never been
taught."
CHAPTER XVIII.
God's Forest, Then Man's.
|HE pencil and pad fell from
Mr. Ransom's hands. He
stared at the girl who had
made this astonishing state?
ment, and his brain whirled.
As for her, she simply stooped and
picked up the pad.
"You feel badly about that," said
she. "You want me to read. I'll
learr. That will make me more like
sii-tcr. But I know some thing- now.
I know what you are thin'iing about.
You ore curious about my life, what
it h.u been and what kir.d of a girl
I ai;j. I'll tell you. I can talk if I
cannot bear. 1 heard up to two years
ago. Shall I talk now? Shall I tell
you *hat 1 told Georgian when she
found me trying in the street and
took; v:e home to her house?"
:T:> redded blindly.
With ? iialla as beautiful as Geor?
gian's- foramomaa* he thought more
dutiful?she drew him to a seat
v ..? oil <!re a: i purpose now. Tht
?'-? of Intelligence which "">" not
?.?s hp- pv* h"*rn*1
brigUtly. She would have looked love?
ly oven to a stranger, but he was not
tnlnking of her looks, only of the
hopelessness of the situation, its diffi?
culties and possibly its perils.
"I don't remember all that nas hap?
pened to me," she began, spelling
ery fast. "1 never triad to romeui
')er. when I v?tt* ii^-=- *
uut ran wild In the roanr and woods
like the weasels aud vhe chipmunks.
The gipsies were good to me. I hau
not cross word in years. The wife
yt the kiiifc was my friend, and all I
knew I learned from her."
Then she went on to tell how. when
the king began to show fondness for
her. after she had got beyond the
years ol' girlhood, the uuecc ?cat her
--J
"You are curious about my life."
on "?n efranu* To a- small Town, and"
when si."? returned the gipsies wert
gone; now, thrown upon her jwn re
sources, she was obliged to hunt
work. She drifted to New York city,
where she peddled, was persecuted,
underwent numberless privations, and
almost starved, for years. She got into
association with poor and lawless peo?
ple, among whom one night there was
a dynamite explosion,?the explosion
of a bomb?which caused the loss of
her hearing.
"All sorts of policemen came into
the house, doctors came, priests came.
The old life was over, and when the
food was all gone from the selves,
I took my little basket and went out,
uot meaning to come back again.
And I did not. I sold my bask it "ut;
got a handful of pennies and /ent to
the market to get something to eat
Then I went into f. park, where there
were benches, and sat down to rest. I
did not know of any place to go to
and began to cry, when a lady ^topped
before me, and I looked up and saw
myself.
"I thought I was dreaming, or had
the fever again, as when I was sick
with my ear, and I thought is was
myself as I would look in heaven, for
she had such beautiful clothes on and
looked so happy. But when she talked,
I could see her lips move and I
couldn't hear; and I knew that I was
just in the park with my empty basket
and my onion and bread, and chat the
lady was a lady and no one I knew,
only so like what I had seen jf my?
self in the glass that I was shaking
all over, and she was shaking an
over, and neither of us could look
away. And still her lips moved, Bad
seeing her at last look frightened and
angry that I didn't answer, I spoke
and said ths.t I was deaf; tuat 1 wac
very sorry that I couidn't hear be*
cause we looked so much alike, thougn
she was a great lady and I was a very,
very poor girl who hadn't any home
or any friends, or anything to wear or
eat but what she saw. At thi* her
eyes grew bigger even than before,
and she tried to talk so,no more, and
when I shook my head ihe took hold
of my arm and began dvawing me
away, and I went and we got on the
cars, and she took me *o a house and
into a room where she took way my
basket and put me in a cnair, and took
off first her hat, then ray own, and
showed me the two heads in a glass,
and then looked at me so hard that
I cried out, 'Sister,' which made her
jump up and put her hand on her
heart, then look at me again harder
and harder, till I remember -vay back
in my life, and I said:
"'When 1 was a Httte girl I had a
sister they called my twin. That was
before I lived in the woods with the
gipsies. Are you that sister srrown
up? The place where we placed to?
gether had a tall fence with points at
the top. There were flowers and
'She made a sudden move and I felt her
arme about my neck."
there were bushes with currants oo
them all round the fence.'
"She mode a sudden move, and I
felt her arme shout ray neck. I thin*
she cried a little. 1 didn't, I was too
glri. 1 knew she was tb^t figcir tbo
moment our faces touched, and 1 knew
she would care for me. and that 1
j.eedu t go back into Uie tueeis any
moie. bo 1 kieaed her aud talked a
good de*l and told her what I've been
telling, and ehe tried to answer, tried
as you did to write, but all I could
c.ndei stand was that she meant to
keep me, but not in the place where
we were, and that 1 was to go out
again. But sh? fixed ire up a little
before we went out, and she bought
rue some things, so that I looked dif?
ferent. Then we went into another
house, where she talked with a wom?
an for a long time, and then sat down
with me and moved her lips very
patiently, motioning me to watch and
try to understand. But 1 was fright
ened and couldnX So she gave up
and, kissing me, made motions with
her hands which I understood better;
she wanted ma to stay there while
she went away, and I promised to if
she would come back soon. At this
hhe took out her watch. 1 svas pleased
with the watch, and she let me look
at it, and inside against the cover
I saw a picture. You know whose it
was."
The depths to which her voice sank,
the trembling of her tones, startled
Hansom. Had sue been less unfort i
nate, he would have moved to a dif?
ferent seat, but he could not show her
a discourtesy after so pitiful a tale.
But the nod he gave her was a grave
one, and her cheek flushed and her
head zell, as she softly added: "It
was the first time I ever saw a face
I liked?you won't mind my saying so,
?and I wanted to keep the watch, but
sister carried it away. She didn't tell
me what it meant, her having your
picture where she could see it all the
time, but when she came again she
made me know that you and she were
married, by pointirg at the picture
and then throwing something white
over her head; I didn't ask for the
watch after that, but?"
A far-away look, ti trembling of her
whole body, finished this ingenuous
confession. Ransom edged himself
away and then was sorry for it, for
her lip quivered and her hands, from
being quiet, began that nervous inter?
lacing of the fingers which bespeaks
mental perturbation.
"I am rery ignorant," she faltered;
"perhaps I have said something
wrong. I don't mesn to, I want to be
a good girl and piease you, so that
you won't send me away now sister
Is gone. Ah, I know what you want,"
she suddenly broke out, as he seized
her by the arm and looked inquiringly
at her. "You want me to tell why I
Jumped out of the carriage that night
and vexed Georgian and was naughty
and wouldn't speak to her. I can't,
I can t. You wouldn't like it if I did.
But I'm sorry now, and will never vex
you but do Just what you want me to.
Shall I go upstairs now?"
He shook his head. How could he
let her go with so much unsaid? She
had talked frankly till she had reach?
ed the very place where his greatest
interest lay. Then she had suddenly
shown shyness of her subject and
leaped the gap, as It were, to the
present moment How recall her to
the hour when she had seen Georgian
for the second time? How urge her
into a description of those days suc?
ceeding his wife's flight from the ho?
tel, of which he had no account, save
the feverish lines of the letter she had
sent him. He was racking his brain
for some method of communicating
his wishes to Anitra, when he heard
steps behind him, and, turning, saw
the clerk approaching him with a
telegram.
He glanced at her slyly as he took
it Somehow he couldn't get used to
her deafness, and expected her to give
some evidence of surprise or curiosity.
But she was still studying her hands,
and as his eyes lingered od her down?
cast face he saw a tear well from her
lids and wet the cheek she held partly
turned from him. He wanted to kiss
that tear, but refrained and opened
his telegram instead. It was from
Mr. Harper, and ran thus:
"Expect a visitor. The man we
know has left the St. Denis."
(To Be Continued.)
Let us be of gr>od cheer, however,
remembering that the misfortune?
hardest to bear are those which nev?
er come.?Oliver Wendell Holmes.
?Your complexion as well as your
temper is rendered miserable by a
disordered liver. By taking Chamber
Iain's Stomach and Liver Tablets you
can improve both. Sold by W. W.
Sibert.
A woman car value a man s merit
when he hasn't any; a man can't a
woman's when she has.
?Not a minute should be lost when
a child shows symptom? of croup.
Chamberlain's Cough Remedy given
as soon as the child becomes hoarse,
or even after the croupy cough ap?
pears, will prevent the attack. Sold
by W. W. Sibert.
You can't help being nice to a mar
who is a bigger fool than you are
and admits it.
?"Can be depended upon" is an ex?
pression we all like to hear, and when
it is used in connection with Cham?
berlains Colic. Cholera and Diarrhoea
Itemedy it means that It never fails
to cure diarrhoea, dysentery or bow?
el complaints. It is pleasant to take
and equally valuable for children and
adults. Sold by W. W, Sihert.
A young widow is awful smart to
look s<> siil when B lot of old cats SM
around.
?Don't waste your mon?y buying
plasters when you can get a bottle of
Chamberlain*! Llntafeat for twenty
Ava cents. * piece of flannel da np
sned with this liniment is leperii r to
any plaster for lame back, pains in
the side and chest, and nun h cheaper.
Sold by W. W. Sioert.
There are 3.261 words on the sim?
plified spelling board's list, it's no
simple matter to Spell in the new
way. -Lot Angeles Express.
?Chamberlain's Colic, Cholera and
Diarrhoea Remedy is today the bee!
known medicine in us(? i<>r the relief
and cure <?f bowel complaints. It
cures griping, diarrhoea, dysentery,
and should be taken at the first un?
natural looseness of the bowels. It is
squally valuable for children and
adults. It always cures. Sold by W.
W. Blbert.