Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1900 — Twixt Life and Death [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Twixt Life and Death

BY FRANK BARRETT

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) “Of course you’re squared. Everyone ..jknows it." said .the amiable Nicholas, but 5n such a tone that if he had told her that jnobody believed her protest it would (have been less objectionable. “Of course .you’re squared." “Well, I suppose they must have someone young and pretty for the business,” (said Itodmond. "One cannot expect london io go mad over a woman of 40.” "Oh, don’t, don’t, don't!” said the “How I do 'ate to hear two imarried people sneering at each other llike this!" ■ _ • "If Mr. Redmond wishes to insult "Nothing of the kind; 1 (nine to offer #Oll my sympathy.” “There you go again!” said Mr. Nichols. "Why will you do it?” “Do you think I want your sympathy?" asked Mrs. Redmond, growing livid (through the rouge. "Oh, I dare say you can do without it. Tm toid Nessa keeps you as if you were Sier own mother.” "Now, why should you take and repeat all the little things you hear?” rvnionjstrated Nichols. "Who says Nessa keeps inc?" asked pMtrw. Redmond, with difficulty lowering tier voice. “Why, everyone says so. It's self-evi-dent. You go on with the crowd at tive-and-twenty shillings a week,.and live up to about fifteen or twenty pounds a week. Stands to reason you must get that out rot Nessa’s- pocket.” “There's a mean way to put it!” protested Nichols. “Why should you say •Mrs, R. takes the money, when most likely Miss G. gives it of her own free will? Don’t everyone tell you that she’s so . jgi nerous and kind-hearted now?" "Oh, no one underrates the generosity of a girl who spends two'or three hundred pounds to pay bills that might have brought you into something worse than (the County Court.” "I didn't ask her to do it—the little fool!” "Of course you didn't,” said Mr. Nichols,tn that irritating, bland tone that always gave bis words the lie. "Of course you didn't, ask her to.” "You’ll’have to economize when Nessa drops you. You may as well begin now,” iittid Redmond. "But the young lady won't drop Mrs. R She wouldn't be so heartless,” said .Nichols. The innuendo scarcely stung her. Redmond took up the running. "Oh, won't, she?” he said, with a derisive laugh. “Look at those swells over [there. One of 'em’s got a title, and I heard him swear that he'd marry the girl to-morrow if she would have him. Well, one day one of those swells will marry her, and then do you think he’ll let his wife keep Mrs. Redmond as a permanent fixture? There's the workhouse; but 1 don’t think you’re fitted for that.” "Oh. lon't talk about the workhouse - a tine woman like Mrs. K." "What doyouwant,” the tortured woman cried out.

“There's my address," said Redmond, putting a piece of paper before bis wife. “Send me a five-pound note every Saturday, and I won't bother you. If you forget it, I’ll call for it." "There, that's very reasonable, I'm sure," said Mr. Nichols, laying his fat hand on Mrs. Redmond's arm. She jerked it away viciously. "Be ealm, my dear lady,” said Nichols, ■sweetly. “If you think I came here just for the sake of interfering between husband and wife, you mistake the nature of my business. Now you’re behaving very handsome in giving your husband five pounds a week, which will continue as long ns nothing happens to Mias Grahame; but if anything should happen to Miss Grahame, us matters stand at present, you would never get a penny of your money back again. That doesn't seem right and'fair. ami in business you ought always to be liberal.nnd generous. Now what I am going to propose is that -that, fi- Mr. Redtnond shares in your prosperitv while Miss Grahame lives, you should share, in his prosperity if anything happens to her. That’s nice and reasonable, ain’t it?" lie asked, turning to Redmond, who replied by a surly nod that showed < learly enough that the question had been decided beforehand.

“Now I think that if any tiling happens to Miss Grahame you ought, in con rideration of your generosity to your husband - yon ought to be made independent' and comfortable for the rest of your life. So here I am writing out an agreement which you can get stamped to-mor-row morning, making it as binding as any deed drawn up by a lawyer—an agreement on the part of your busband to pay you Sophia Redmond the sum of fifteen thousand pounds. You can't expect nuyihiug fairer than that, can you?" ’ The woman nodded impatiently, and made a gesture for him to continue. “Now, your husband is going to sign that,” he said, putting the paper and pencil into Redmond’s hand, "and I'm going to witness the signature all nice and regular." Redtnond signed the paper, pushed it forward with morose discontent in his face, rose, and went away without, a word, leaving his two partners together. "There yon are, my dear lady,” said Nichols, after writing his name to witness the signature. "Take care of it, for it's worth a fortune to you. Of course, ■while your husband bns got nothing, you can get nothing by that paper; but the moment he comes into his estate by anything happening to Miss Grahame, you just present that, and you won’t fijive to w orry about anything in the wide world.” She leaned over, and Sfwke with feverish eagerness: ‘Tn plain words, this is a security for . fifteen thousand pounds to be paid me If M • “Hush, hush! I can’t listen to anything that I couldn’t take my oath I fierar heard mentioned. But if I can help

you : n any way—and I think I can—l ■ shall be most happy. Now, what do you say to my dropping in like a friend tomorrow night, and having a little > hat about things in general?” “I shall be here as soon as my number is done.” “That’s right. Good-night, my dear lady. So glnd to have brought things round nice and pleasant.” He rose, and, joining Redmond at the bar. took him out, linking his arm in the manner of tin impulsive, good-natured friend. He said nothing. But, as their eyes met, the look of cunning satisfaction that p;issod- between them, contained, a whole volume of villainy. * * • * .♦ * ♦ The next evening Mrs. Redmond went to the Hippodrome with a queer, sinister glow in her face. There were half a-dozen compeptitora from the audience to-night. The races were run ns on the preceding night. The outsiders’ heat was won by an Italian woman; Nessa won in the “International Company” heat. When the two horses were brought in for the race between the two winners, Nessa gracefully offered the choice to her adversary. After taking in the animal’s "points’’ with a keen, shrewd glance, the Italian chose Caprice. Nessa won on the other by a length and a half. Nessa was <yiee more triumphant, and when she had trotted around the arena a line of bouquets marked her course. The chariots were brought in, and the challenge given to the women beyond the barrier,*. Mrs. Redmond was the last to offer. Her victory was a foregone conclusion—the race was a feeble one, and yet she won by no more than the length of her chariot. Nessa and Fergus knew that she was reserving her horse's strength for the single combat. Once more the herald came forward, challenging the crowd to compete with the charioteer. A note from Fergus slipped into her hand had prepared Nessa for her business. When the herald had given the challenge three times and no one from ’the crowd responded, Nessa rose,- upon which there was a tumult of applause from company and audience. She came down from the throne amidst the flowers that covered the steps, and put off her wreath and robes. Then I’Esperanee was led in. She patted the mare’s neck, looked round the house once more, and mounted. In dead silence Mrs. Redmond brought her chariot to the starting line on the inner course; then a length was measured, and Nessa brought her mare to the mark. Fergus whispered a word of encouragement as he passed her. and the next minute the signal to start was given. Before they bad gone half-way down the first lap, Nessa perceived that Mrs. Redmond was putting her horses to their utmost speed. She knew they never could keep up the pace, and so made up her mind to reserve her mare for the I final lap. In the second hip Mrs. Red- ‘ moud was far ahead; but Nessa and Feri gus both saw that her horses were almost spent with the tremendous effort exacted front them, and that there was yet a good chance of I'Espers nee getting in a winner.

“Now!” cried Fergus, as Nessa darted past, entering on the irtst lap. "Now, now!” cried Nessa. Up to this moment Mrs. Redmond had stuck close to the dais, taking all the advantage possible of the inner course, but now, with a cry of bravado, she drove away to the outer limits of the course, ns if in contempt to give her rival a chance. The maneuver was seen by the audience and raised some applause from those who ndmired the audacity; but, before the hands had ceased to clap, a wild scream rose from the whole audience. The chariot wheel had caught in the leg of a tripod at the lower end of the arena, and had swung the horses right round and flung them down across the outer course, and in the next instant Nessa’s mare, keptdose in to the standarils, and going at the very top of her speed, dashed into the floundering horses of tlie chariot. Ft had happened in such n brief space of time that few actually saw what occurred; but as (’Esperance limped across the arena with an empty saddle, it was known to al) that Blue and White had i come to grief at last. ; She lay motionless on the tan. The color was still on her face, but a thin I stream of blood flowed from the corners of her lips, and when Fergus raised her shoulders her head fell back and her half-closed eyes were already glazed. “Oh, heavens!" he exclaimed, "that demon has killed her!”

CHAPTER XX. When Nessa opened her eyes again she awoke to iind herself lying in a strange bedroom. She could not make it out nt al). There were two windows facing the foot of her bed. The blinds were down, but the sun was bright upon them. Where was she? Clearly it was not her own room. It was much too neat nnd orderly for that. There were French hangings to the bed with a crisp, frilled edging. The window curtains were draped prettily—not nt all like her own, which were allowed to hang anyhow. She turned, with the resolution of waking up thoroughly nnd settling the questions that perplexed her; but at the first movement a dull pain in her side brought back a flood of recollections. Gradually her ideas grouped themselves into two distinct pictures —the arena, with the chariot sweeping round the course, and the ante-room, with its whitened walls and ceiling and flaring gas, and the circle of silent, awe-stricken men about her. She knew that ; her body was injured. She felt that it was encased in a rigid corset of some kind; and furtively she raised her arm, not without difficulty, to her face, with a horrible fear of finding that also crushed and disfigured. Slight as the movement was, it attracted the attention of her nurse, who sat near one ot the windows a little beyond Nessa’s

range of vision, reading. She cam* to the bedside—a young lady, not more than twenty-six, tall and thin, dressed with a simplicity that would have been severe on any one less gentle than she looked. Nessa felt like a little child— weak and powerless. She looked up gratefully into the kind face that was already fascinating her. They were dark, compassionate eyes—the beautiful feature in a face that had nothing else but its sweet expression to admire. “Where am I? Not in a hospital—no?” “No—you are in my rooms. And who am 1? you want to know; well, I am Grace Arnold.” “I don’t know you. I can’t remember your name in the program—Grace Arnold—there are so many of u».” “I am not in your company, dear/’ said Miss Arnold, laughing. “They wouldn’t have me. Look at me. Who would cojne to see me?” ’ She drew herself up. turning her face to the light that 'Nessa might see her. She was too thin, her teeth were irrsgular, her face was long, and her beauty, if she had any, not at all of the type found at the International; but Nessa thought she looked more lovable than anyone she had ever known. 1 “And if one is not very pretty,” continued Miss Arnold, “one must be clever, and I am neither. No, dear; I am nothing but Grace Arnold yet awhile," Something in the look of her face and the expression in those two last words seemed to indicate that she w.as ambitious of being something more. "Where is Mrs. Redmond? Why am I in your house?" Nessa asked, after a pause. “You needed attentive nursing—more than Mrs. Redmond could possibly give, and Mr. Fergus did not wish you to be taken to a hospital: so Mr. Meredith was good enough to bring you to me, knowing that I have nothing to do and that I am fond of nursing.’’ ■ “Who is Mr. Meredith?” Miss Arnold’s face flushed, and she seemed to find a difficulty in choosing words for her reply. "He is a doctor, dear —very wise and very kind and good and thoughtful. He was at the International when your accident happened, and happily he was able to be of great service to you. He knew what to do and what surgeon to send for, though I don't think anyone can be more clever than he, and I think you owe your life to him, dear.” “Am I—am I much injured?” Nessa asked, falteringly. “It was a very grave accident. A bone was crushed inward —there, at your side; And then you were taken with fever, and for many, many days you have been unconscious, lying like one in a troubled sleep. But he said you would wake to-day, and you have, and all the danger is passed, and you will get well again quickly if ” She stopped abruptly, for Nessa had caught sight of her own hand lying on the coverlet, and was now looking at it aghast as she held it up to the light. “Look! look!” said she, hardly above a whisper; “this is not my hand!” Miss Arnold cast a swift, scrutinizing glance at her face, fearing that the excitement of talking had produced a return of delirium. "Yes, dear, it is your own hand,” said Miss Arnold, taking it gently in her own. "You can feel mine, can't yau?” “But there is nothing of it. I could see my bones through the skin. Bring me a glass—bring me a glass’” cried Nessa, with terrible anxiety. Miss Arnold saw that the best thing she could do was to comply, and quickly brought a hand-glass, which she herself held before Nessa’s face. The girl looked in awe and wonder at her shrunken face, terrified by the wildness in her own eyeq, and then, pushing the glass away, burst into tears, covering her face with her emaciated hand. It was all over—her beauty was quite gone—-color and form, all gone! Nothing but two great eyes there, that stood out like some monstrous caricature. They would never take her back at the International. It was all over. She felt Miss Arnold’s soft fingers passing tenderly over her head, heard her sympathetic voice murmuring hopefully, but she could not take comfort. I't was too terrible to think that all the joy of life was lost, and she could think of nothing else. She fell asleep when her grief was exhausted. (To be continued.)