Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 190, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1915 — HISLOVE STORY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HISLOVE STORY

MARIE VAN VORST

I ILLUSTRATIONS

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SYNOPSIS. Le Comte de Sabron, captain of French cavalry, takes to his quarters to raise by hand a motherless Irish terrier pup, and names it Pltchoune. He dines with the Marquise d’Esclignac and meets Miss Julia Redmond, American heiress, who sings for him an English ballad that lingers In his memory. Sabron is ordered to Algiers, but is not allowed to take servants or don. Miss Redmond offers to take care of the dog during his master's absence, but Pltchoune, homesick for his master, runs away from her. The Marquise plans to marry Julia to the Due de Tremont. Unknown to Sabron, Pltchoune follows him to Algiers. Dog and master Seet and Sabron gets permission from e war minister to keep his dog with him. JuUa writes him that Pltchoune has run away from her. He writes Julia of Pitchoune. The Duo de Tremont finds the American heiress capricious. A newspaper report that Sabron Is among the missing after an engagement with the natives causes Julia to confess to her aunt that she loves him. Sabron, wounded In an engagement, falls into the dry bed of a river, and Is watched over by Pltchoune. After a horrible night and day Pltchoune leaves him. JuUa goes in search of Sabron. reported missing. Tremont takes Julia and the Marquise to Algiers In his yacht, not knowing their errand. CHAPTER XVl—Continued. With his godmother he was entirely at ease. Ever since she had paid his trifling debts when he was a young man, he had adored her. Tremont, always discreet and almost In love with hls godmother, kept her In a state of great good humor always, and when she* had suggested to him this little party he had been delighted. In speaking over the telephone the Marquise d’Esclignac had said very firmly: “My dear Robert, you understand that this excursion engages you to nothing.” “Oh, of course, marraine.” “We both need a change, and between ourselves, Julia has a little mission on foot” Tremont would be delighted to help Miss Redmond carry it out Whom else should he ask? "By all means, any one you like," said his godmother diplomatically. “We want to sail the day after tomorrow.” She felt safe, knowing that no worldly people would accept am invitation on twenty-four hours* notice. . “So,” the Due de Tremont reflected, as he hung up the receiver, “Miss Redmond has a scheme, a mission! Young girls do not have schemes and missions in good French society.” “Mademoiselle,” he said to her, as they walked up and down on the deck in the pale sunset, in front of the chair of the Marquise d’Esclignac, “I never saw an ornament more becoming to a woman than the one you wear.” “The ornament. Monsieur?” “On your sleeve It is so beautiful. A string of pearls would not be imore beautiful, although your pearls fare lovely, too. Are all American girls Red Cross members?” “But of course not. Monsieur, Are *ll girls anywhere one thing?” “Yes,” said the Duo de Tremont, ■“they are all charming, but there are gradations." "Do you think that we shall reach Algiers tomorrow, Monsieur?” "I hope not, Mademoiselle.” Miss Redmond turned her fine eyes on him. “You hope not?” “I should like this voyage to last forever, Mademoiselle.” “How ridiculous!" Her look was so frank that he laughed in spite of himself, and instead of following up the politeness, he asked: “Why do you think of Algiers as a field for nursing the sick. Mademoiselle?” “There has been quite a deputation of the Red Cross women lately going from Paris to the East.” , "But," said the young man, “there «re poor in Tarascon, and sick, too. There is a great deal of poverty in Nice, and Paris is the nearest of all." “The American girls are very imaginative,” said Julia Redmond. “We win at have some romance in all we do." “I find the American girls very eharming,” said Tremont. “Do yen know many. Monsieur?” “Only one,” he said serenely. Miss Redmond changed the subject quickly and cleverly, and before he knew it, Tremont - was telling her stories about his own military service, which had been made in Africa. He talked well and entertained them both, and Julia Redmond listened when he told her of the desert, of its charm and its desolation, and of its dangers. An hour passed. The Marquise d’Esclignac took an anteprandial stroll, Mimi mincing at her Meals. "Ce pauvre Sabron!” said Tremont has disappeared off the face of Ithe earth. What a horrible thing it Mademoiselle! I knew him in •Parts; I remember meeting him wprttln the night before he left the 'Midi. He was a fine fellow with a career before him, his friends say.” “What do you think has become or Monsieur de Sabron?” Miss Redmond, so far, had only 4>een able to ask this question of her aunt and of the stars. None of them

had been able to tell her. Tremont shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully. “He may have dragged bimseif away to die in some ambush that they have not discovered, or likely he has been take captive, le pauvre diable!” “France will do all it can. Monsieur . . “They will do all they can, which is to wait An extraordinary measure, if taken just now, would probably result in Sabron being put to death by his captors. He may be found tomorrow —he may never be found.” A slight murmur fronj the young girt beside him made Tremont look at her. He saw that her hands were clasped and that her face was quite white, her eyes staring fixedly before her, out toward Africa. Tremont said: “You are compassion itselfi Mademoiselle; you have a tender heart No wonder you wear the Red Cross. I am a soldier, Mademoiselle. I thank you for all soldiers. I thank you for Sabron . . . but, we must not talk of such things.” He thought her very charming, both romantic and idealistic. She would make a delightful friend. Would she not be too intense for a wife? However, many women of fashion joined the Red Cross. Tremont was a commonplace man, conventional in his heart and in his tastes. “My children,” said the marquise, coming up to them with Mimi in her arms, "you are as serious as though we were on a boat bound for the North Pole and expected to live on tinned things__and salt fish. Aren’t you hungry, Julia? Robert, take Mimi to my maid, will you? Julia,” said her aunt as Tremont went away with the little dog, “you look dramatic, my dear; you’re pale as death in spite of this divine air and this enchanting sea.” She linked her arm through her niece’s. “Take a brisk walk with me for five minutes and whip up your blood. I believe you were on the point of making Tremont some unwise confession.” “I assure you no, ma tante.” "Isn’t Bob a darling, Julia?” “Awfully,” returned her niece ab-sent-mindedly. “He’s the most eligible young man in Paris, Julia, and the most difficult to please.” “Ma tante,” said the girl in a low tone, “be tells me that France at present can do practically nothing

about finding Monsieur de Sabron. Fancy a great army sad a great nation helpless for the rescue of a single soldier, and hls life at stake!” "Julia,” said the marquise, taking the trembling hand in her own, "you will make yourself ill, my darling, and you will be no use to anyone, you know." "You’re right,” returned the girl. “I will be silent and I win only pray.” She turned from her aunt to stand for a few moments quiet, looking out at the sea, at the blue water through which the boat cut and flew. Along the horizon was a mist, rosy and translucent, and out of it white Algiers would shine before many hours. When Tremont, at luncheon a little later, looked at his guests, he saw a new Julia. She had left her coat with the Red Cross in her cabin with her hat. In her pretty blouse, her pearls around her neck, the soft flush on her cheeks, she was apparently only a light-hearted woman of the world. She teased her aunt gently, she laughed very deliciously and lightly flirted with the Due de Tremont, who opened a bottle of champagne. The Marquise d’Esclignac beamed upon her niece. Tremont found her more puzzling than ever. "She suggests the chameleon," he thought, "she has moods. Before, she was a tragic ■rase; at luncheon she is an adorable sybarite.”

“The Ornament, Monsieur?"