Hope Republican, Volume 2, Number 6, Hope, Bartholomew County, 1 June 1893 — Page 3

HE YELLOW MASK BY TVUiKfK COLLIN'S. Part Third, CHAPTER V. —Continued. “Aaleop, 1 see, and sighing in his •Jeep,” said the doctor, going to the bedside. ‘‘The grand difficulty with bin>," he continued, turning to D’Arbino, “remains .precisely what U was. I have hardly loft a single moans untried of rousing him from that fatal depression, yet for the test fortnight he has not advanced a •ingle step. It is impossible to •hake his conviction of the reality of the face which he saw (or rather which he thinks he saw) when the ▼ellow mask was removed, and as long as he persists in his own shocking view of the case so long will he lie there, getting better, no doubt, *s to his body but worse as to his tnind." “I suppose, poor fellow, hois not In a fit state to be reasoned with.” “On the contrary, like all men with a fixed delusion, he has plenty of intelligence to appeal to on every point except the one point on which ne is wrong. I have argued with him vainly by the hour together. He possesses, unfortunately, an acute nervous sensibility and a vivid imagination; and besides, he has, I suspect, been superstitiously brought up as a child. It would probably be useless to argue rationally with him on certain spiritual subjects, even if his mind was in perfect health. He has a good deal of the mystic and the dreamer in his composition, and science and logic are but broken reeds to depend upon with men of that kind.” “Does he merely listen to you when you reason with him or does he attempt to answer?” “He, has only one form of answer, and that is, unfortunately, the most difficult of ail to dispose of. When I try to convince him of his delusion he invariably retorts by asking me fora rational explanation of what happened to him at the masked ball. Now. neither you nor I, though we believe firmly that he has been the. dupe of some infamous conspiracy, have been able as yet to penetrate thoroughly into this mystery of the Yellow Mask. Our common sense toils us that he must be wrong in talcing his view of it, and that we must be right in taking ours; but if we cannot give him open, 'tangible pi-oof of that —if we can only theorize when he asks us for an explanation—it is but too plain, in his present condition, that every time we remonstrate with him on the subject we only fix him in his delusion more and more firmly.” “It is not for want of perseverance on my part,” said D Arbino, after a moment of silence, “that we are still left in the dark. Ever since the extraordinary statement of the coachman who drove the woman home. I have been inquiring and investigating. I have offered the reward of two hundred scudi for the discovery of her; I have myself examined the servants at the palace, the night watchman at the Campo Santo, the police books, the- lists of keepers of lodging-houses and hotels, to hit on some trace of this woman, and I have failed in all directions. If my poor friend’s perfect recovery does indeed depend on his delusion being combatted by actual proof, I fear we have but little chance of restoring him. So far as I am concerned, I confess myself at the end of my resources.” “I hope wo arc not quite conquered yet,” returned the doctor. “The proofs we want may turn up when we least expect them. It is certainly a miserable case,” he continued, mechanically laying his fingers on *the sleeping man’s pulse. “There ho lies, wanting nothing now' but to recover the natural elasticity of his mind; and here we stand, unable to relieve him of the weight that is pressing his faculties down. I repeat it, Signor Andrea, nothing will rouse him from his delusion that he is the victim of a supernatural interposition, but the production of some startling, practical proof of his error. At present he is in the position of Ionian who has been imprisoned from his birth in a dark room, and who denies the existence of daylight. If we cannot open the shutters, and show' him the sky outside, wo shall never convert him to a knowledge of the truth.” Saying these words, the doctor turned to lead the way out of the room, and observed Nanina, who had moved from the bedside on his entrance. standing near the door. He stooped to look at her, shook his head good humoredly, and called to Marta, who happened to be occupied in an adjoining room. “Signor Marta,” said the doctor, “I think you told me some time ago that your pretty and careful little assistant lives in your house. Pray, does she take much Walking exercise?” “Very little, Signor Dottore. She goes home to her sister when she

leaves the palace. Very little walking exercise indeed.” “I thought so! Her pale cheeks and heavy eyes told me as much. Now, my dear,” said the doctor, addressing Nanina. “you are a very good girl and I am sure you will attend to what I tell you. Go out every morning before you come here and take a walk in the fresh air. You are too young not to suffer by being shut up in close rooms every day, unless ydu get some regular exercise. Take a good long walk in the morning or you will fall into my hands as a patient and be quite unfit to continue your attendance here. Now, Signor Andrea, I am ready for you. Mind, my child, a-walk every day in the open air outside the town, or you will fall ill. take my word for it!” Nanina promised compliance, but she spoke rather absently and seemed scarcely conscious of the kind famil- | iarity that marked the doctor’s manner. The truth was that all her thoughts were occupied with what he had been saying at Fabio's bedside. She had not lost one word of the conversation while the. doctor was talking of his patient, and the conditions on which his recovery depended. “Oh, if that proof which would cure him could only be found!” she thought to herself, as she stole back anxiously to the bedside when the room was empty. On getting home that day she found a letter waiting for her, and was greatly surprised to see that it was written by no less person than the master sculptor, Luca Lomi. It was very short, simply informing her that he had just returned to Pisa and that he was anxious to know when she could sit to him for a new bust —a commission from a rich foreigner in Naples. Nanina debated with herself for a moment whether she should answer the letter in the hardest way, to her, by writing, or in the easiest way, in person, and decided on going to the studio and telling the master sculptor ‘that it would bo impossible for her to serve him as a model, at least for some time to come. It would have taken her long hour to say this with due propriety on paper; it would only take her a few minutes to say it with her own lips. So she put on her mantilla again and departed for the studio. On arriving at the gate and ringing the bell a thought suddenly occurred to her which she wondered had not struck her before. Was it not possible that she might meet Father Rocco in his brother’s work room? It was too late to retreat now, but not too late - to ask, before she entered, if the priest was in the studio. Accordingly, when one of the workmen opened the door to her, she inquired first, very confusedly and anxiously, for Father Rocco. Hearing that he w'as not with his brother then, she went tranquilly enough to make her apologies to the master sculptor. She did not think it necessary to tell him more than that she was now' occupied every day by nursing duties in a sick room, and that it was consequently out of her power to attend at the studio. Luca Lomi expressed, and evidently felt, great disappointment at her failing him as a model, and tried hard to persuade her that she might find time enough if she chose to sit to him, as well as to' nurse, the sjck person. The more she resisted his arguments and entreaties, the more obstinately he reiterated them. He was dusting his favorite busts and statues, after his long absence, with a feather brush when she came in; and he continued this occupation all the while he was talking—urging a fresh plea to induce Nanina to reconsider her refusal to sit at every fresh piece of sculpture he came to, and always receiving the same resolute apology from her as she slowly followed him down the studio toward the door. Arriving thus at the lower end of the room, Luca stopped with a fresh argument on his lips before his statue of Minerva. He had dusted it already, but he lovingly returned to dust it again. It was his favorite work—the only good likeness (although it did assume to represent a classical subject) of his dead daughter that he possessed. He had refused to part with it for Maddalena’s sake; and, as he now approached it with his brush for the second time, he absently ceased speaking, and mounted on a stool to look at the face near and blow some specks of dust off the forehead. Nanina considered this a good opportunity of escaping from further importunities. She was on the point of slipping away to the door with a word of farewell, when a sudden expression from Lucca Lomi arrested her. “Plaster!” cried the master sculptor, looking intently at that part "of the hair of the statue which lay lowest ou the forehead. “Plaster here.” He took out his penknife as be spoke, and removed a tiny morsel of some white substance from an interstice between two Jolds of the hair where it touched «che face. “It is plaster!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Somebody has been taking a cast from the face of my statue!’

He jumped off the stool and looked all around the studio with an air of suspicious inquiry. "I must have this cleared up,” he said. “My statues were left under Rocco’s care, and he is answerable if there has been any stealing of casts from any one of them. I must question him directly.” Nanina, seeing that he took no notice of her, felt that she might now easily effect her retreat. She opened the studio door, and repeated, for the twentieth time at least, that she was sorry she could not sit to him. “1 am sorry, too, child,” he said, irritably -looking for his hat. He found apparently just as Nanina went out, for she heard him call to one of the workmen in the inner studio, and order the man to say, if anybody wanted him, that he” had gone to Father Roceo’s lodgings. CHAPTER VI. Jfhe next morning, when Nanina a it, so, a bad attack of headache, and a sense of languor and depression, reminded her of the necessity of following the doctor’s advice, and preserving her health by getting a little fresh air and exercise. She had more than two hours to spare before the usual time when her daily attendance began at the AscoliPalace; and she determined to employ the interval of leisure in taking a morning walk outside the town. La Biondella would havx- been glad enough to go too, but she had a largo order for dinner-mats on hand, and was obliged for that day to stop in the house and work. Thus it happened that when Nanina set forth from home, the learned poodle, Scaramuc- i cia, was her only companion. She took the nearest way out of | town; the dog trotting along in his i usual steady, observant way, close at her side, pushing his great muzzle from time to time affectionately into her hand, and trying hard to attract her attention at intervals by barking and capering in front of her. He got but little notice, however, for his pains. Nanina was thinking again of all that the physician had said the day before by Fabio’s bedside; and these thoughts brought with them others, equally absorbing, that were connected with the mysterious story of the young noblebleman’s adventure with the Yellow Mask. Thug preoccupied, she had little attention left for the gambols of the dog. Even the beauty of the morning appealed to her in vain. She felt the refreshment of the cool, fragrant air, but she hardly noticed the lovely blue of the sky. or the bright sunshine that gave a gayoty and an interest to the commonest objects around her. After walking nearly an hour, she began to feel tired, and looked about for a shady place to rest in. Beyond and behind her there was only the high-road and the flat country; but by her side stood a little wooden building, half inn, half cof-fee-house, backed by a large,, shady pleasure-garden, the gates of which stood invitingly open. Some workmen in the garden were putting up a stage for fire-works, but the place was otherwise quiet and lonely enough. It was only used at night as a sort of rustic Ranelagh. to which the citizens of Pisa resorted for pure air and amusement after the fatigues of the day. Observing that there were no visitors in the grounds. Nanina ventured in, intending to take a quarter of an hour’s rest in the coolest place she could find before returning to Pisa. She had passed the back of a wooden summer-house in a secluded part of the gardens, when she suddenly missed the dog from her side, and, looking round, after him, saw that he was standing behind the summerhouse with his ears erect his nose to the ground, having evidently that instant scented something that excited his suspicion. Thinking it possible that he might be meditating an attack on some unfortunate cat, she turned to see what he was watching The carpent'ers engaged on the firework stage were just then hammering at it violently. The noise prevented her from hearing that Scaramuccia was growling, but she could feel that he was the moment she laid her hand on his back. Her curiosity was excited, and she stooped close to him, to look through a crack in the boards before which he stood into the sum-mer-house. She was startled at seeing a lady and gentleman sitting inside. Thfe place she was looking / through was not high enough up to enable her to see their faces, but she recognized, or thought she recognized, the pattern of the lady’s dress as one which she had noticed in former days in the Demoiselle Grifon’s show-room. Rising quickly, her eye deteciel a hole in the boards about the level of her own height, caused by a knot having been forced out of the wood. She looked through it to ascertain, without being discovered, if the wearer of the familiar dress was the person she had taken her to be; and saw, not Brigida only, as she had expected, but Father Rocco as well. At the same moment the carpentersleft off hammering and began to saW.

The new sound from the firework stage was regular and not loud. The voices of the occupants of the sum-mer-house reached her through it, and she heard Brigida pronounce the uame of Count Fabio. ‘ Instantly stooping down once more by the dog’s side, she caught his muzzle firmly in both her hands. It was the only way to keep Scaramuccia from growling again, at a time when there was no din of hammering to prevent him from being heard. Those two words, “Count Fabio,” in the mouth of another woman, excited a jealous anxiety, in her. What could Brigida have to say in connection with that name? She never came near the Ascoli Palace —what right or reason could she have to talk of Fabio? “Did you hear what I said?” she heard Brigida ask, in her coolest, hardest tone. „ “No,” the priest answered. “At least, not all of it.” “I will repeat it, then. I asked what had so suddenly determined you to give up all idea of making any future experiments on the superstitious fears of Count Fabio?” “In the first place, the. result of the experiment already tried has been so much more serious than I had anticipated that I believe the endl had in view in making it has been answered already.” “Well, that is not your only reason?” “Another shock to his mind might be fatal to Mfn. I can use what I believe to be a justifiable fraud to prevent his marrying again, but I cannot burden myself with a crime.” (to be continued.) KICKED INTO A FORTUNE. How a Cantankerous Mule's Heels Handed Its Driver On a Rich Gold Hedge, San Francisco Chronicle. Any man without Tom Powers’s luck would have been kicked into kingdom come instead of the richest diggings in the Territories. He was freighting from Lake Valley to mining camps in the Black Range, and was lucky if ho could keep at work. He was about as clumsy as they make men, and never made a trip without being kicked, bitten, or trodden on by his team. One mule in the string, Old Sam, was a regular devil, the brute knew that Tom was afraid Df him and never missed a chance to bite or kick at him. One day in the latter part of September. 1887. Tom started from Lake Valley with a heavy load, bound to John Burke’s camp. The distance was eighty miles, and part of the way the road was hardly more than a trail along the side of the mountains, Half a dozen good teamsters had refused the contract, but Tom took it because ( the price offered was more than double what he could obtain on any other route. Bets were freely made that the outfit would go over the grade, but Tom succeeded ki getting over sixty miles of the road without a single hitch. Then he was at the Hogback, a narrow ridge along which the road ran, and on each side was a deep canon. At no place is the road more than a couple of feet wider than a wagon, and the grade is very heavy. Half way across something started Old Sam, and he began to kick. Tom whipped and swore, but Sam only made his heels fly faster, and at last managed to get outside the traces, and then, as if satisfied with the fun he had had, the brute lay down right in the middle of the road and defied Tom’s every effort to get him up. A couple of Mexicans happened along, and at Tom’s invitation they took a hand. One of them gathered a lot of dry grass and piled it close to the mule’s hindquarters and set it on fire. It took Sam about two seconds to change his position and land hiS heels on Tom’s stomach with a force which sent him over the edge of the road and down the bank. He dropped twenty-five-'or thirty feet down the side of the mountain. “Where did he land? Why, on the ledge of the Noonday of course. He had sense enqugh to keep his discovery a secret, and wrote to his brother in Denver to gather up all the cash he could and get down to New Mexico as soon as possible. The first thing we knew in Lake Valley, a gang of men w,ere at work developing the mine. All the rock taken out is sent to Cerillos to be worked, and the deeper they go/the' richer the ledge is. It paid handsomely from the start, and the boys are now getting out about $10,000 a month clear of expenses. The first thing Tom did was to purchase old Sam, and the mule is now living a life of ease with a big pasture to graze in and a good stable to sleep in at night. Five ladies in waiting to the Empress of China are en route for Berlin, whither they have gone, it is said, to study the German language and German court etiquette.

FAILURE OF EX-SECRETARY FOSTER. Speculation the Cause—Disastrous Kml of a Long lluslness Career. Fostoria, O., was shaken from center to circumference, Friday morning, by the announcement, that spread with the rapidity of wildfire, that ex-Gov. Charles Foster had made an assignment. Every man who knows what a public spirited, enterprising citizen Mr. Foster is knew in an instant that this meant the downfall of some of Fostoria’s raest prominent institutions, which he had started and up-

CHARLES POSTER.

held for many years. The report proved too true, for at an early hour Attorney Scott, of Toledo, filed the papers of assignment of the banking house of Foster & Co., the wholesale grocery house of Davis & Foster and of Charles Foster individually, with J. B. Gormley, president of the First National Bank of Bucyrus, assignee. Mr. Foster made a statement to the public, from which we extract the following; “Words cannot express the deep distress and humiliation 1 feel. If I could bear all the burden that my failure will entail, ! should feel a sense of relief. It is no consolation to look back over a business life of forty-five years which gained for me a position of confidence that has rarely been achieved, and to know that I have aided hundreds of people to maintain an honorable standing and to gain a competency, and some a large degree of wealth. I know that now I have by my failure injured many people. When I returned from Washington I knew that my indorsements for the window glass companies and the brass and iron works company were very large—so large, in fact as to induce me to fear that I would have to suspend at that time. These concerns owed more than I then supposed, and to add to my misfortunes, the affairs of the Fostoria Light and Power Company, of which I am a large stockholder and indorser, proved to be in bad shape financially. I struggled, seeking every possible moans to tide over the situation, uptil I am compelled to assign. I did not give up the struggle till Friday, May 26. I can see plainly that in settling ray affairs through the courts, thus compelling my assets to be reduced to cash, large sacrifices will be made. This being so, I can not give encouragement that my debts will be paid in full. Charles Foster.” THE ARABS STAMPEDED. A Fire Destroyed Their Camels, Horses and Belongings. Fire broke out Thursday morning in the stable sheds in Garfield Park, at Chicago. The noted resort is being used by a band of Arabs in giving performances somewhat similar to the Wild West show. The men all escaped, hut three camels, three blooded Arabian horses and 500 feet of sheds were consumed. There was wild confusion during the conflagration. The Arabs were frantic and considerably hampered the work of the fire department. The men ran screaming across the fields or made vain attempts to save their property. The camels that had been released from their sheds increased the confusion. The Arabs say their loss is $40,000. FABULOUS GOLD STRIKE. Ora Found Which Nets #171»,001> to tha Ton. A special from Spokane, Wash., 'Wednesday, says the most fabulous gold strike ever made in the North was reported from the Grand Summit mine on Palmer’s mountains in the Okanogan mining dis tricts. Almost a solid body of pure gold was found at a depth of 200 feet. A seven pound piece of ore assayed two pounds of pure gold, which Is equal In value to $175,000 to the ton. There is plenty of the same ore in sight. The news of the strike has caused intense excitement and a rush is being made for the district. Owners of the mine have placed a strong armed guard to protect the property, and everybody is warned off the premises under penalty of being shot. "EXPERIENCE A DEAR SCHOOL." Fifteen years ago Jerome 0. Dronborger, of Hope, married Lotti.e Gillespie, and he deeded her throe lota in St. Louis, Bartholomew county, worth possibly $100. Sometime afterward Mr. Dronberger brought suit against Morris Colico, thrice a widower, claiming damages for alienating his wife’s affections, and he was giver a verdict for $3,000. Pending this litigation Mrsf Dronberger secured a divorce I and married Cohee. Within the past few : days Cohee and wife deeded to Dronberger i the real estate which he gave to Mrs. Dronberger and pa id a small sum to satisfy the judgment which Dronberger held. I The latter now finds himself back where I he started, but with less mchiey and more marital experience. , The saddest sight in Anniversary Week is the minister when the anecdote lie has be >n saving up for a whole year doesn't work well on the audience.