Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 190, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1915 — CHAPTER XVII. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CHAPTER XVII.

_Out of the Desert. • From a dreamy little villa, who a walla were streaming with bougainvillea, Miss Redmond looked over Algiers, over the tumult and hum apis to the sea. . Tremont, by her side, looked at her. From head to foot the girl was in white. On one side the bougainvillea laid its scarlet flowers against the stainless linen of her dress, and on her other arm was the Red Cross. The American girl and the Frenchman had become the best of friends. She considered him a sincere companion and an unconscious confederate. He had not yet decided what he thought of her, or how. His promise to remain on the yacht had been broken and he paid his godmother and Miss Redmond constant visits at their villa, which the marquise rented for the season. There were times when Tremont thought Miss Redmond’s exile a fanatical one, but he always found her fascinating and a lovely woman, and he wondered what it was that kept him from laying his title and his fortune at her feet It had been understood between the godmother and himself that he was to court Miss Redmond a’ I'americalne. “She has been brought up in such a shocking fashion, Robert, that nothing but American love-making will

appeal to.her. You will have to make love to her, Robert. Can you do it?’ “But, marraine, I might as well make love to a sister of charity.” “There was la Belle Heloise, and no woman is immune.” “I think she is engaged to some American cowboy who will come and claim her, marraine.” Hls godmother was offended. “Rubbish!" she said. “She Is engaged to no one, Bob. She is an idealist, a Rosalind; but that will not prevent her from making an excellent wife.” “She is certainly very beautiful,” said the Due de Tremont, and he told Julia so. "You are very beautiful," said the Due de Tremont to Miss Redmond, as she leaned on the balcony of the villa. The bougainvillea leaned against her breast. “When you stood in the hospital under the window and sang to the poor devils, you looked like an angel.” “Poor things!” said Julia Redmond. “Do you think that they liked it?” “Liked it!” exclaimed the young man enthusiastically, “couldn’t you see by their faces? One poor devil said to me: ’One can die better now, Monsieur.* There was no hope for him, it seems.” Tremont and Marquise d’Esclignac had docilely gone with Julia Redmond every day at a certain hour to the different hospitals, where Julia, after rendering some slight services to the nurses I—for 1 —for she was not needed —sang for the sick, standing in the out6r hallway of the building open on every side. She knew that Sabron was not among these sick. Where he was or what sounds his ears might hear, she could not know; but she nang for him, and the fact put a sweetness in her voice that touched the ears of the suffering and uplifted those who were not too far down to be uplifted, and as for the dying, It helped them, as the soldier said, to die. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Sang for the Sick.