Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 September 1914 — The Hollow of Her Hand [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Hollow of Her Hand

George Barr

Author of ‘Grau at ark ,* “Truxton - ILLUSTRATIONS by BLSMETHTOUNG \ COTTRIGMT- 191 S - BY GEORGE BARR M C CUTCHUB COPYRIGKT.ien BY ~^s t _POllD. MEAJ <K_» COMIMfY

CHAPTER XV. Rattling Old Bones. They journeyed to Paris by the night mail. He was waiting for her on the platform when she descended from the wagon lit in the Gare du Nord. Sleepy passengers crowded with them into the customs department She, alone among them all, wae smiling brightly, as if the world could be sweet at an hour when, by all odds, it should be sleepiest. "I was up and on the lookout for you at Amiens,”, he declared, as they walked off together. ’’You might have got off there, you know,” with a wry grin. “I shall not run away from you again, Brandon,” she said earnestly. “I promise, on my honor.” “By Jove,” he cried, “that’s a relief!” Then he broke into a happy laugh. ”1 shall go to the Ritz,” she said, after her effects had been examined and were ready for release. “I thought so,” he announced calmly. “I wired for rooms before 1 left London.” “Really, this is ridic—” “Don’t frown like that, Hetty,” he pleaded. As they rattled and bounced over the cobble-stones in a taxi-meter on the way to the Place Vendome, he devoted the whole of his conversation to the delicious breakfast they were to have, expatiating glibly on the wonderful berries that would come first in that always-to-be-remembered meat She was ravenously hungry by the time they reached the hotel, just from listening to his dissertation on chops and rolls and coffee as they are served in Paris, to say nothing of waffles and honey and the marmalade that no Englishman can do without. Alone in his room, however, he was quite another person. His calm assurance took flight the instant he closed the door and moodily began to prepare for his bath. Resolution was undiminished, but the facts in the case were most desolating. Whatever at was that stood between them, there was no gainsaying its power to influence their lives. It was no trifle that caused her to take this second flight, and the sooner he came to realize the seriousness of opposition the better. He made up his mind on one point in that half-hour before breakfast; if she asked him again to let her go her way in peace, it was only fair to her and right that he should submit to the inevitable. She loved him, he was sure of it. Then there must be a very good reason for her perplexing attitude toward him. He would make one more attempt to have the truth from her. Falling in that, he would accept the situation as hopeless, for the time being at least. She should know that he loved her deeply enough for that. She joined him in the little open-air case, and they sat down at a table in a remote corner. Th£re were few people breakfasting. In her tender blue eyes there was a look of sadness that haunted him, even as she smiled and called him beloved. “Hetty, darling,” he said, leaning forward and laying his hand on hers, “can’t you tell me what it is?” She was prepared for the question. In her heart she knew the time had come when she must be fair with him. He observed the pallor that stole into her warm, smooth cheeks as she regarded him fixedly for a long time before replying. “There is only one person in the world whe can tell you, Brandon. It is for her to decide. 1 mean Sara Wrandall.” - felt a queer, sickening sensation' of uneasiness sneak Into existence. In the back of his mind, a hateful fear began to shape itself. For a long time he looked into her somber eyes, and as he looked the fear that was hateful took on something of a definite shape. “Did you know her husband?” he asked, and somehow he knew what the answer would be. “Yes,” she replied, after a moment. She was startled. Her lips remained parted. He watched her closely. “Has this —this secret anything to do with Challis Wrandall?” C “It has,” said she, meeting his gaze steadily. His hands clutched the edge of the table in a grip that turned the knuckles white. “Hetty!” he cried, in a hoarse whisper. “You—can’t mean that you—” “You must go to Sara,” she cried hurriedly. "Haven’t I told you that she is the one—” "Were you in love with that infernal scoundrel?” he demanded fiercely. “Sara knows everything. She will tell you—” “Were you carrying on an affair with him while professing to be the

friend of his wife? Tell me that! Did she find you out and-—” “Oh, Brandon, why will you persist?” she cried, her eyes aflame. "1 can tell you no more. Why do you glare at me as if 1 were the meanest thing on earth? Is this love? Is this your Idea of greatness? Isn’t It enough for you to know that Sara is my loyal, devoted friend; that she —” "Walt!” he commanded darkly. "Is It possible that she did not discover your secret until the day you left her house so abruptly? Does that explain your sudden departure?" "I can answer that,” she said quietly. ‘‘She has known everything from the day I met her. 1 have not said anything, Brandon, to lead you to believe that I was in love with Challis Wrandall, have 1?” His eyes softened. “No, you haven’t. I—l hope you will forget what I said. You see, I knew Wrandail’s reputation. He had no sense of honor. He —” "Well, I have!” she said levelly. He flushed. “I am a beast! 11l put

It in this way, then: Was he in love with you?” “You are still unfair. 1 shall not answer.” He was silent for a long time. “And Sara’s lips are sealed," he mused, still possessed of doubts and feare. “Until she elects to tell the story, dearest love, my lips are also sealed. I love you better than anything else in all this world. I could willingly offer up my life for you, but—well, my life does not belong to me. It is Sara’s.” “For heaven’s sake, Hetty, what is all this?” he cried in desperation. “1 can say no more. It is useless to insist, Brandon. If you can wrest the story from her, all well and good. You will hate me then, dear love. But it cannot be helped. 1 am prepared.” Tell me this much: When you refused to marry Leslie, was your course inspired by what had happened in—in connection with Challis Wrandali?” "You forget that it is you that I love,” she responded simply. “But why should Sara urge you to marry Leslie if there is anything—” “Hush! There is the waiter. Come to my sitting-room after breakfast. 1 have something to say to you. We must come to a definite understanding This cannot go on.” He was with her for an hour in that pitched little sitting-room, and left her there without a vestige of rancour in his soul. She would not give an inch in the stand she had taken, but something immeasurably great in his makeup rose to the occasion and he went forth with the conviction that he had ho right to demand more of her than she was ready to give. He was satisfied to abide by her decision. The spell of her was over him more completely than ever before. Two days later he saw her off at the Oare de Lyons, bound for Interlaken. There was a complete understanding between them. She wanted to be quite alone in the Alpine town; he was not to follow her there. She had reserved roonis at the Schweitxerhof, and the windows of her sitting-room looked straight up the valley to the snow-cov-ered crest of the Jungfrau. She remembered these rooms; as a young girl she had occupied them with her father and mother. By some hook or crook. Booth arranged by wire for her to have them again, not an easy matter at that season of the year. Later she was to go to Lucerne, and then to Venice. The slightest shred of hope was left for Booth. Even though he might accomplish the task he had set unto himself—the conquest of Sara in respect to the untold story—he still had Hetty’s dismal prophecy that after he learned the truth he would come to see why they could not be married. But he would not despair. “We’ll see,” was all that he said in response Jo her forlorn cry that they

were parting for ever. There was ■> grimness in the way he said it ths* gave her something to cherish during the months to come; the hope that he would come back and take her in spitft <ft henelf. He Wiled from Cherbourg on the first steamship calling there. Awake, he thought of her; asleep, he dreamed of Challis Wrandall. There was something uncanny in the persistence with which that ruthless despoiler of peace forced his way into his dreams, to the absolute exclueion of all else. The voyage home was made horrid by these nightly reminders of a man he scarcely knew, yet dreaded. He became more or less obsessed by the idea that an evil spell had descended upon him in the shape of a ghostly influence. The weeks passed slowly for Hetty. There were no letters from Sara, but an occasional line or so from Mr. Carroll. She had made -Brandou Booth promise that he would not write to her, nor was he to expect anything from her. If her intention was to out nerseir off entirely trom her recent world and its people, as she might have done in another way by pursuing the time-honored and rather cowardly plan of entering a convent, she was soon to diecover that success in the undertaking brought a deeper sense of exile than she could have imagined herself able to endure at the outset. She found herself more utterly alone and friendless than at any time in her life. The chance companions she formed at Interlaken—despite a wellmeant reserve—served only to increase her feeling of loneliness and despair. The very natural attentions of men, young and old, depressed her, instead of encouraging that essentially feminine thing called vanity. She lived as one without an alm, without a single purpose except to close one day that she might begin the next After a time, she on to Lucerne. Here the life on the surface was gayer, and she was roused from her state of lethargy in spite of herself. Once, from her little balcony In! the National, she saw two of her old acquaintances in the chorus at the Gaiety. They were wearing many pearls. Another time, she met them In* the street. She was rather quletlyi dressed. They did not notice her. But! the prosperous Hebraic gentlemen who attended them were not so careless. One day a card was brought to her rooms.. For the next two weeks she had a true and unavoidable friend In) Lucerne. It would appear that Mr* 1 Rowe-Martin had not been apprised of the rift in the Wrandall late. She' had no reason to consider the exclusive Miss Castleton as anything but! the most desirable of companions. Mrs.-Howe-Martin was not long in finding . out (though how she did it, heaven knows), that Lord Murgatroyd’s grandniece was no longer the intimate of that impossible person, Sara Gooch. She couldn’t think of Sara without thinking of Gooch. But at last Mrs. Rowe-Martin departed, much to Hetty’s secret relief, buL not before she had increased the girl’s burthens by Introducing i her into a. cold-nosed cosmopolitan set from which there were but three ways of escape. She refused to marry one of, them, denied another the privilege of making love to her, and declined toplay auction bridge with all of them. They were not long in dropping her, although it must be said there was real regret among the men. From Mrs. Rowe-Martin and others she heard that Mrs. Redmond Wrandall and Vivian were to be in Scotland in October, for somebody-or-other'a* christening, and that Leslie had beendoing some really wonderful flying at Pau. 1 am so glad, my dear," said Mrs. Rowe-Martin, “that you refused to marry Leelie. He is a cad. Besides, you would have been in a perpetual state of nervee over his flying.” Of Sara, there was no news, as might have been expected. Mrs. Rowe-Mar-tin made it very clear that Sara was a respectable person—but heavens! The chill days of autumn came and the crowd began to dwindle. Hetty made preparations to join in the exodus. As the days grew short and bleak, she found herself thinking more and more of the happy-hearted, symbolic dicky-bird on a faraway window ledge. His life was neither a travesty nor a tragedy; hers was both of these. Something told her too that Brandon Booth had wormed the truth out of Sara, and that she would never see him again. It hurt her to think that *hile Sara believed in her, the man who loved her did not, It is a way men have. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Hetty!" He Cried, in a Hoarse Whisper.