Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 209, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 September 1915 — HIS LOVE STORY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIS LOVE STORY

By MARIE VAN VORST

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CHAPTER XXV—Continued. —l7 Sabron could not reply. Her ribbon* and flowers and Jewels shook In his eyes like a kaleidoscope. His flush had made him more natural. In his Invalid state, with his hair brushed hack from his fine brow, there was something spiritual and beautiful about him. The Marquise d’Escltgnac looked on a man who had been far and who had determined of his own accord to come back. She said mors gently, putting her hand affectionately over his: "Get strong, monsieur—get well. Bat all the good things we are making for you. I dare say that the army cannot spare you. It needs brave hearts." Sabron was so agitated after her departure that the nurse said he must receive no more visits for several days, and he meditated and longed and thought and wondered, and nearly cursed the life that had brought him back to a world which must be lonely for him henceforth. When he sat up In bed he was a shadow. He had a book to read and read a few lines of It. but he put it down as the letters blurred. He was sitting so, dreaming and wondering how true or how false It was that he had seen Julia Redmond come several times to his bedside during the early days of his Illness here In the hospital. Then across his troubled mind suddenly came the words that he had heard her sing, and he tried to recall them. . The Red Cross nurse who so charitably sang In the hospital came to the wards and began her mission. One after another she sang familiar songs. "How the poor devils must love it!” Sabron thought, and he blessed her for charity. How familiar was her voice! But that was only because he was so ill. But he began to wonder and to doubt, and across the distance came the notes of the tune, the melody of the song that had haunted him for many months: God keep you safe, my love, ▲ll through the night; Rest close in his encircling arms Until the light. My heart la with you aa I kneel to pray. Good night! God keep you in his care alway. Thick shadows creep like silent ghosts ▲bout my head; I lose myself in tender dreams While overhead The moon comes stealing through the window-bars, ▲ silver sickle gleaming ’mid the stars. For I, though I am tar away, Peel safe and strong. To trust you thus, dear love—and yet. The night la long. I say with sobbing, breath the old fond prayer. Good night! Sweet dreams! God keep you everywhere!” When she had finished singing there were tears on the soldier’s cheeks and he was not ashamed. Pltchoune. who remembered the tune as well, crept up to him and laid his head on his master's hand. Sabron had just time to wipe away the tears when the Due de Tremont came in. “Old fellow, do you feel up to seeing Miss Redmond for a few moments?** •••• • • a „ When she came in he did not know whether he most clearly saw her simple summer dress with the single Jewel at her throat, her large hat that framed her face, or the gentle lovely face all sweetness and sympathy. He believed her to be the future Duchease de Tremont. ‘'Monsieur de Sabron. we are all so glad you are getting well." “Thank you. Mademoiselle." He seemed to look at her from a great distance, from the distance to the end of which he had so wearily been traveling. She was lovelier than he had dreamed, more rarely sweet and adorable. “Did yon recognize the little song. Monsieur?" “It was good erf you to Bing it" “This Is not the first time I have teen you. Monsieur de Sabron. I came when yon were too ill to know of It" “Then I did not dream,*’ said the officer simply. He was as proud as he was poor. He could only suppose her engaged to the Due de Tremont It explained her presence here. In his wildest dreams he could not suppose that she had followed him to Africa. Julia, on her part having done an extraordinary and wonderful thing, like every brave woman, was seized with terror end a sudden cowardice. Sabron. after all, was a stranger. How could she know his feelings for her? She spent a miserable day. He was out of all danger; in a fortnight he might leave the hospital. She did not feel that she could see him again as things were. The Comtease de la Maine had returned to Paris as soon as Tremont came in from the desert “Ms taste," said Julia Redmond to the Marquise d’Escllgnac. “can we go back to Dues ItnmwllstHy —liy daw Jaffa!" bar

aunt, in surprise and delight "Robert will be enchanted, but he would not be able to leave hla friend so soon.” "He need not,” said the girl, "nor need you leave unless you wish." The Marquise d’Esclignac entertained a thousand thoughts. She had not studied young girl’s minds for a long time. She had heard that the modern American girl was very extreme and she held her in rather light esteem. Julia Redmond she had considered to be out of the general rule. "Was it possible,” she wondered, “that Julia, In comparing Tremont with the Invalid, found Robert more attractive?” “Julia,” she said severely, as though her niece were a child, pointing to a chair, "sit down." Slightly smiling, the young girl obeyed her aunt "My dear, I have followed your caprices from France to Africa. Only by pleading heart-failure and mortal Illness could I dissuade you from going into the desert with the caravan. Now, without any apparent reason, you wish to return to Franca’* "The reason for coming here has been accomplished, ma tante. Monsieur de Sabron has been found.” "And now that you have found him,’’ said the marquise reproachfully, “and you discover that he is not all your romantic fancy imagined, you are going to run away from him. In short, you mean to throw him over." “Throw him over, ma tante!" murmured the girl. “I have never had the chance. Between Monsieur de Sabron and myself there is only friendship.” “Fiddlesticks!” said the Marquise d’Esclignac impatiently. “I have no understanding of the modern young

girl. She makes her own marriages and her subsequent divorces. I am • our aunt, my dear, your mother’s sister, and a woman of at least twen-ty-five years’ more experience than you have.” Julia was not following her aunt’s train of thought, but her own. She felt the hint of authority and bondage in her aunt’s tone and repeated: “I wish to leave Algiers tomorrow.” “You shall do so,” said her aunt. “I am rejoiced to get out of the Orient. It is late to order my dresses for Trouvllle, but I can manage. Before we go, however, my dear, I want you to make me a promise.” “A promise, ma tante?” The girl’s tone implied that she did not think she would give it “You have played the part of fate in the life of this young man, who, I find, is a charming and brave man. Now you must stand by your guns, my dear Julia.” “Why, how do you mean, ma tante?” “You will go to Paris and the Capit&ine de Sabron will get well rapidly. He will follow you, and if it were not for Tremont, myself, your Red Cross Society and the presence here of Madame de la Maine, you would have been very much compromised. But never mind,” said the Marquise d’Esclignac magnificently, “my name Is sufficient protection for my niece. I am thinking solely of the poor young man." “Of Monsieur de Sabron?" “Of course,” said the Marquise d’Esclignac tartly, "did you think I meant Robert? You have so well arranged his life for him, my dear.” “Ma tante,” pleaded the girl. The marquise was merciless,. “I want you to promise me, Julia, before you sail for home, that if Sabron follows us and makes you understand that he loves you, as he will, that you will accept him.” Julia Redmond looked at the Marquise d’Esclignac in astonishment. She half laughed and she half cried. “You want me to promise?" “I do," said her aunt firmly, regarding her niece through her lorgnon. “In the first place the affair ip en-

ttrsly unconventional and has been since we left France. It is I who should speak to the Capttalne de Sabron. You are so extremely rich that It will be a difficult matter for a poor and honorable young man. . . . Indeed, my dear, I may as well tel) you that I shall do ao when we reach home.” “Oh,” said the girl, turning perfectly pale and stepping forward toward her aunt, "if you consider such a thing I shall leave for America at once." The Marquise d’Esclignac gave a petulant sigh. “How impossible you are, Julia. Understand me, my dear, I do not want a woman of my family to be a coquette. I do not want it said that you are an American flirt —it la in bad taste and entirely misunderstood in the Faubourg St.-Germain.” The girl, bewildered by her aunt’s attitude and extremely troubled by the threat of the marriage convention, said: “Don’t yon understand? In this case it is peculiarly delicate. He might ask me from a sense of honor." “Not in any sense," said the Marquise d’Esclignac. “It has not occurred to the poor young officer to suppose for a moment that a young woman with millions, as yon are so fortunate to be, would derange herself like this to follow him. If I thought so I would not have brought you, Julia. What I have done, I have done solely for your peace of mind, my child. This young man loves you. He believes that you love him, no doubt. You have given him sufficient reason, heaven knows! Now,” said her aunt emphatically, “I do not intend that you should break his heart.” It was more than likely that the Marquise d’Esclignac was looking back twenty-five years to a time, when as a rich American, she had put aside her love for a penniless soldier with an insignificant title. She remembered how she had followed his campaign. She folded her lorgnon and looked at her niece. Julia Redmond saw a cloud pass over her aunt’s tranquil face. She put her arms around her and kissed her tenderly. “You really think then, ma tante, that he will come to Paris?” "Without a doubt, my dear.” “You think he cares, ma tante?” Her aunt kissed her and laughed. "I think you will be happy to a bourgeois extent. He is a fine man.” “But do I need to promise you?” asked the girl. “Don’t you know?” “I shall be perfectly ashamed of you,” said the Marquise d’Esclignac, “if you are anything but a woman of heart and decision in this matter." Evidently she waited, and Julis/Redmond, slightly bowing her lovely head In deference to the older lady who had not married her first love, said obediently: “I promise to do as you wish, ma tante.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

When He Sat Up in Bed He Was a Shadow.