The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, October 02, 1909, Image 6

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fcG? 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.