Newspaper Page Text
William in order to avoid a more serious d A^Sfe^or Buffering, embittered by separa tion, then began *ortbosa three beings. Wil/iam returned to England. 'wWte £ora and Julia went to Italy, where, in an at mosphere quite new to tnem. by the effect of a nature and an art they had Ipored until then Nora's sensitive soul changed Uttie by little and suffered the mysterious transformation that Georg Ortsen had ata^ln^^SKrt wffitoo^M! But Nora began to detest that which she believed to be the Imperative law of her conscience She hated herself for having condemned her mother without listening to her defense. She hated herself for hav ing^ refused William's love. She decided she would go to him and say,: "I am your wife* take me; I love you. y °She spoke of this project to her sister Julia, who burst into a storm of re nroaches Nora, in her astonishment, tried to' defend* her ideas at first but finally she saw the motive of her elder sister's anger— jealousy. And in the course of amalnfrtcent scene she dared to expose to her and show her the secret and uncon scious hypocrisy that filled her heart. Ana J^ a o C to c< him! You are a lost woman!" deeply; your conscience is poisoned! Farewell! lam going where I cU S S h h e t r t e°jomed William after some months of fruitless search. She found him in Derbyshire, where was aid the opening scene of the novel, which was written throughout in retrospective form 1 after a chapter in which William and Nora were reunited. A!as! It was too late! Sepa rated from the being whom he loved. Vvii liam had led a wretched « xlstenc ? 7h a i "h was dying of pitiless heart dlse » se '^ l^w had already reduced him to the shadow of himself. Nora's arrival reanimated the invalid for a short time. He imagined he was restored to life and happiness. But the bright period was of short duration. The maiady would not relinquish its prey, and William died in Nora's arms. ..„, "I have killed you!" she cried. For 5 "No?" replied William: "it is not you who have killed me, Nora. It Is the other Nora— the one whose conscience was not awakened. . . , Long after Lea had finished the book she remained in thought, leaning on the window sill. The afternoon recreation was over. The evening study and classes had begun in the rustling silence of the big buildings. The pupil who had been copying in the neighboring room from tli see Reclus' booK a short time before had gone. The library was empty. By insen sible degTees the June twilight was slowly dying away. The steeple of St. Charles' Church stood out darkly, precise and yet obscure, like a silhouette cut in blacU paper, acainst the background of a sky like mother-of-pearl. Lea. standing there motionless, had only, one thought, attenu ated and dim. She remembered vaguely a pointed stee ple piercing the opalescent sky on the hor izon at Richmond. Now that she had rin ished her book she felt intoxicated by what she had read, as by some drugged beverage. The real and the imaginary were indistinguishable, and the confusion wa.s rialnful to her. William and Nora were Geore and herself capricously meta morphosed by Tinka's intuitive art. and she had further complicated her person ages by attributing to them the strange and rebellious suggestions of her own con science. Lea mechanically replaced the book in her portfolio and left the library. As Kcon as she attained the corridor the Llnze of light from the electric globes hurt her eye?, as though she had been nwaitened suddenly. She had to stop and Jean against the wall for support. A sen sation of eiddiness seemed to make the luminous line in the middle of the ceiling ppin round her. A hand was laid upon her arm. "What is the matter. Lea? Are you ill?" She raised, h*»r eys and recognized Daisy Crag-?:?. She drew a deep breath. "No. Daisy," she. said, "it is nothing. I stopped too long in the library reading near the window, and the light in the cor ridor dazzled my eyes. It is nothing, you ccc: nothing!" She took a few steps that were at first rather uncertain, leaning on the Irish ¦woman's arm. Then she liberated herself and walked along side by s!df v.-ith her. Daisy watching her companion's face with affectionate anxiety. She shook her head. "You are not very well. Lea. I told Pirnitz and your sister that you ought to take v little holiday and go away for a short time from this place." "I shall have a vacation like all of you" replied Lea. smiling, "when the pupils take theirs." Mile, de Salnte-Parade talked of rent- Ing a house at the seaside or in the country during the months of August and September— a house where the mistresses m:|?ht stay with those of the pupils who had no relatives or whose family would allow them to go. Daisy CrapK's Hp moved as though she were about to speak, but she restrained the Impulse and said nothing. Her sister Edith had told her the story of Lea and Georß Orsten. Although she was op posed to the dominant sex and had been simerely happy and tranquil in her celi bacy since she had enjoyed Germaine's vivifying presence, she would willingly have scolded Ix>a in a friendly fashion. "What! You are still th-nking of that dar.dy who w<\3 nmiising himself in Italy while you were weeping for him!" But she was tao charitable and too kind hearted to run the risk of paining her companion. "Besides," she thought, "I don't understand these love stories." "Have you heard the news?" she paid in order to change the subject, as. having descended the staircase, they were going to their rooms. "What news?" "There is an article attacking us In the Eemalne de St. Charles, the little journal which is said to be directed by the Abbe Minot." "Attacking us? ' "Yes. Mile. Heurteau lent it to me a few moments ago. I glanced through it. We are not mentioned Individually, but the methods nnd the instruction of the school are condemned, with a few reser vations and compliments in honeyed P " r wtmt do they reproach us with?" ° S She onV asked" hy mere habit and by the acquired force of her former apos tolic ardor. As a matter of fact, she had become completely indifferent to all mat ters relating to the school. The earnest tone of her own voice asking the ques tion astonished her; it resembled an In voluntary hypocrisy which she desptsed. while Daisy was telling her or trie ob jections made by the Abbe Minot to "a ivstem of education that is half Protest ant and half atheistic, a cosmopolitan, anarchical tendency, the sullying of youthful imagination by indiscreet hysri enic lessons, the lack of modesty in the Instruction Riven, the openly professed horror of marriage." The two women arrived at the door of Lea's room. The young girl listened with secret impatience, her hand on the door knob Her dizziness was gradually dis appearing, leaving in her brain two vaguely aching spots as^ though caused by ft double blow. "Protestants! Protestants!" cried Daisy Indignantly. "I am as good a Catholic as ho is. the dirty old caasocked scribbler! If my father had not been a Catholic he would never have been driven from his farm like a dot: when I was only ten years of age! Protestants. Indeed!" She went away still muttering. this epi thet, which ruffled the hereditary fiber of a persecuted race in her. Lea entered her room. Frederique was dressing for suo per, according to the custom cf the school; where even the pupils were led to the lavatory before meals and came to table with clean hands and fa<*e^, the? I hair in order and their clothes well brushed. Frederique was arranging her heavy tresses of dark hair before the mir ror of the wardrobe. L«»n loofced at her for a moment before closing the dx>or. "How beautiful she is!" And the two aching points In her hraln immediately became more painful. With out turning Frederique asked: "Is that you. dearest? Where have you been all afternoon? I have been looking for you." "I was in the library lookin? through some albums by Viollet le Due." The half falsehood caused her no confu sion. For a long time the former com plete communion between the two sisters had changed Into a discreet reserve. "While Fredertque, observing her sister secretly, related the effect produced upon the general staff of the tchool by the arti cle in the Semalne de St. Charles. Lea. having taken off her bodice, cooled her face and her milk white arms In the cold water, and then, letting down her chest nut hair and leaning backward, she began to brush it and arrange it afresh. Frederlque'a words made clear to her the meaning of the double pain In her brain. She began to understand what was the double shock that Tinka's story had caused her. It had aroused her Jealousy against her elder. With a sort of moody certainty. Lea now attributed the senti ments of the Imaginary Julia to the actual Fredertque. The other shock was this fear— Georg was HI: Georg was dying, like William in the book! Tlnka, by an artistic caprice, had given Lea's soul to the hero of her novel, but all "William's love adventure was really that of Georg, and the story of his return to England read like a faithfully written diary. Since the novelist told of his ill- Synopsis of Preceding Chapters. FreaetiQue and Lea Eurier. native TarlElans, are half-irtßter*. The first is the result of a liaison between the mother and a man of w-ealih and portion, the second the Issue of a mariiapi- hastily patched up with an inferior in th» employ of the seducer. The couple <1!e »n4 the deters are thrown upon the world. They a.'cure pot-itions In a wallpaper firm. hut. because of Improper advances made by their raptoyer, Jude IXiram!>erty. they reslpn. llcanwhile they had fallen in with an en thuciastic Hungarian Inrty. nomaine Pirr.iti. tho f-.-under of a erwiety named the rwble Maifonf. with tranches in nudapest. in London ovA in Paris. Her Mea and the M^a of her society is that every woman Fhoul.i learn a trade and a correct theory of life. Now. this correct theory is that woman ehouid be Inde pendent, virtuous herself and the inspiration to virtue in man: further, that celibacy is nobler than marrtape. When the sorters are cast out of employmrnt Wn:e. Pirnitz recommends th^ni to the branch <V her society in London. The six-let y obtains *-erk for both. In L*>r.<l.->n they lodse with a Flr.nish brother and plMer. <;«>.->rjr and Tinka Ortsen. the former a sculptor, the latter a novelist l^ra. openly. Kr<*Jeri<iue secretly, fall In love tvith Ge'irjj. "and he with Lea. The young people drram "f a r-.yst'c and platonlc union. tu;t <Wr« shatters th'« idr-a! by one too pa^sic nate kiss. The Reparation. ennne !crj by Kl-.Jeri.sue and Romaine. become* absolute when •;•!¦. r^ MdZessea in the present of the trio that he has U>st hi* virginity. T!-.'* f:m»!-b menr.iihll" leave !»v.idon an<l J'Mr. th ¦¦> I'aris branch of the society as teacher*. But Lf» «tf!i FcmrtM for h»r lover. This yearning Is Increased tenfold «hc-n heirs that another of tiie Noble Maide'.:*. Dnyvecfec Hexpel. !;i* tmrsKPtl herself to m.-.rry a vidower nacirt Rexainefca scraint-t the visfc*.* of ihc pocfetr. .".Ml mainly because cf h<-r '.ove for t'.)p man's tittle invalid B n. Other Ncbl^ Idafdero who i>lay wibord'.naUr paits in th« KtCTT «r.' Mme. Sar.z. Mile, llour teau, Hdith .tr.J T^a:*y t'r.i^s. <J»r:nain** Sou btxe, etc. The society tiaa a V):tt<>r enemy in thp Abb* Minct. a lieroous but boorish and Li.ytrd priest of peasant '^risia. Copyrighted — CHAPTER V — Continued. SKATCD arour.d the bis lamp car ried In by the artisan thry contin ued to talk about the child. Re mlncau recounted the incidents of liis attack of bronchitis during the winter, his relapses and constantly increasing anaemia. "As a mntter of fart, the little fellow is ratir.g his heart away. There is no Other name fcr it. He is so fond of MH<>. Duy vecke. and her departure was a dreadful blow to bid. He has never recovered from it. Ibe poor little f eilow seems to vepeiate here. And what can 1 do, all alon'-. I j'lay v.ith him as will as I can end give him everything he asks for, but 1 Ci;::r.ot take Mii<-. Duyvecke's place." Duyvecke, liar.!;.? on the table, wiped her »j(*, which had suddenly tilled With tears. "What a pity he Ss not a girl," said Germaine. "We could take him to the schonl and everything Tvould be settled. " "You could not bring htm up w;th the piris, even at his age?" a>kod Renilneau timidly. "No, ' said Duyvecke. "We do r.ot be lieve in co-education. It is against ILJe. Pimitz's ;.ir::u i;i'es." "In that case tne little chap and I are lost." "I will elm and Bee him .is often as possible, l>n:i, con't be afraid." 'i he worttuutn snuoK h.» tiead without repi> inK- oeriuaiiit; Suuuizes presence t-mbariasseu n:m and prevented turn from saying ail lie would nave t-aid to uuy- Vecke ha<i tney been aione. And i»u> vecke, uno>: standing his confusion, was very gla^i tnat lie tsaouid not npea.lt and that siie bad not to listen tv h:m. for a little while noihi.i^ «\us beard but ihe muliied hi:-s.i!.B at wie lami» in the O:nins room. It was lici-maine wuo broke the si lence. "We had a very exciting time at the Bchool to-day?*,* "VViiy. wr.at was the matter?" .isk'; 1 Duyvecke. "Tiie inspector called— not the technical Inspector, the one for primary education." Well.' i t >¦ not the lir.^-t tinx "No. but tor the Drat liise it was a M. Lecointe-Uupre. who. instead of L"ing jvj lite and beuevolent like thos<; of m.-> pre«2ee< sehis who havt- already paid us v visit, put on an air ot great authority, questioned the pup;!?, criticized our pro gramme, th«- discipline and the spirit in which our school is conducted— in lact. it was quite a little revolution." "What doe* it matter? \V«- are our own mistresses and a^k lor nothing from the Government." "On the contrary. Mile. Heurteau claims that it matters a great d< al. .She says his had tf-mj 1 r proves that the disposition of the authorities t with regard to us has changed. Tho inspector came with defi nite, prartmnsed i>i'-as and armed with a port of official authorization to criticize us. In France the Government ran put Bjmkea in any urbee] when it likes." "That's :<n outr.-'so." Interrupted Re minr-au. "1 should like to know what tin Government objects to in our school! It will not tind m;my conducted by women ti.^ respectable!*? The worthy fellow ¦was quite oxcited, as tfeough some one hnd been disrespectful t« Duyvecke herself in his presence. *'Ml!e. Heurteau. who was the only one to t.'Uk with the inspector after h:s round «-»f the classes, says that be .protest'-.! ¦LRainst the immorality of the Instruction fe-iven:" "The immorality?" cried Duyver-ke. "V*s; no supervision of th<" pupils. They ere too fn-o; they go home alone. We in culcate very Maskable doctrines. We set them against marriage, agatoct matern ity. You *cc how I'irnitz's ideas are trn vejstlcd outside! My lessot;s were particu larly incriminated! It «pp<ars th'jre is a rumor current In St. Charles that i h.-ivc; teught them very Questionable ur *.&;ls about care* necessitated in child birth. And yet you know nidi what dis cretion I have touched upon such :i dcli cato suljjeet." "Who can have spread Fuch a ca lumny?" "I don't know. Mile. Heurteiu flunks she divined from the very reticence «>£ the Inspector that the Municipal Council lias had seme share in it. As for me, I suspect "Oh! A priest! Do you think he would have ar.y share in Bttcfa an abominable in trijrtie?" cn*-d Duyvecke. who was still a pious end churehgoing Catholic. "He may think he is serving the church In i.tTack'r.g us." "Di« the inspector speak to Pirnits?" "No. but he seized an opportunity to cay a few words to Frederique. She was pivirig her lesson in French to the elder pirls when he camp into her. classroom. After questioning several of the pupils rather bad temprrpdly a.nd trying to c-ra barrafls them, he asked them, one after the other. 'Have you received a certifi cate?' The girls, who hardly knew what he meant, opened their eyes In amazem ent. After the fourth demand Fred crique replied. 'No, sir. None .of these children has a certificate, as none of them has ever paesed an examination. I thought you knew that.' The inspector, rather disjruFted. protested. 'iiut why don't they undergo an examination?' 'Society does not need diplomas,' cried Fred erique. "What it needs is enerpry and conscJence: 1 Thereupon the inspector turned red. rose and left the classroom. MJle. Heurt^au he declared tiis inten tion of sending ia a very unfavorable re port." - "Very well: lot him draw up ills report. It cannot affrct us. cs the Government gives us rothing." "Mile. Heurteau says they can always withdraw our authorization. And you mill see.' continued Oermaine. with a eudden animation which he'ghtened her oolor and even seemed to chanjje the hue' of her eyes; "they vvil! withdraw it! They will persecute us because we represent in dependence and truth! All the corrupt citizens of fit. Charles and al! official Paris wiil bfind together asainst the school. But, I asauro you. there is at least ono amonp t:s who will not be put out quietly. They phall kill me first!" She became silent and for a few mo ment; hhe remained with contorted lace and lips tXCTBbUng under th» Inlluerce of a restrained fury. Remineau looked with tome surprise ct the pleasant visage bo suddenly ronvult=ed. Duyveoke only smiled. She was familiar with CJermaine's stormy temperament, with her sudden outbursts of indignation, her revolution ary tendency. By a sort of endosmosis the anarchial doctrines which the course of years had attenuated In Daisy's mind had infiltrated Flowly Into that of her companion. Since Oermnine had inhab ited the school Fhe had become irritable. She no longer talked cf anything: save re bellion, of a- vengeance to be wreaked ten one of the lines of this cylinder." Pirnltz herself admired Lea's tranquill ity, the calm, tireless activity with which she accomplished her daily task. But Pir nitz, so accustomed to read the human heart, was mistaken. In the fullness of her hope she said to herself: "Lea has recovered control of herself." Lea even deceived herself. "Oh. Vanderbrouck, your drawing is very poor. Stand up for a moment." She took a glass of clean water, dipped the brush in it and prepared the colors, her graceful profile bent over the sheet of paper buckled by the humidity*. But while she handled the brush and pointed out the faults to the pupil— a fair-haired girl, with a narrow forehead, big blue eyes and wide-open mouth — she had only one thought, a thought that little by little be came painful as a wound. Her mind dwelt on the book brought in a few moments be fore by the little monitress, the book she had refused with such apparent indiffer ence, and which was now lying upon the table on the platform. She had cast a glance at the book, a single glance, when Alexandrine offered It to her. She has seen two things with a shock— the small, black, clear type of the English paper wrapped round it. and the bluish violet stamps with the nls,.tt. "irea "2V»" above the proliie of the Queen. It came from Eng- 1 "Who can have pent me a | boon from England?" I ; ff?3~Zi [!' Mir.o. F.iv.iv.. who was to ftf**!? Irave the following day, ha 3 Kfl&&*3 not been In l': ; ris at that Si&M-£ very moment. her nnni" tS&if>oi& would have occurred to her fes«urs at or.cc. As It could not be Ifi&fC from Mme. Rar>7.. who couWl 1111111 have sent It? Edith <'raggs. WmMai Daisy's sister, who had been HfHMQ! her companion and friend in I^sS^ I'lariss" workshop? Th« Heßgi hook apreared to ho an or- l^^S dinary English novel, und MvfyJgi Edith, who ior s'-.rrii 1 V.rr.'i miS^t 4^ had given no p'gn of "life, v.-a.i ¦¦.fp*** rjuitc !ncapat>ie of sending Eliiißji anything except Methodist fffesfe& Still Lra, while continuing IV^?* her round among the pupils. m'&feM tried to force herself to be- R?^»S lirvr tb:U the book had bf-^n lyisia sent by Edith, could only B«^^ have been scr.t by her. But BXsl?! I y i he mysterious power of R^^g divlnution. which becomis so B$§»PP? keen In moments of spiritual BuJ&sfS erfscF she felt tbat it coul.l W^&3 no: be from Eoiith. S'.ie K^sSi knew it: She was sure of it! WmSmk Continued Next Sunday. meet her lover she went along the corri dor quickly and up the two flights of stairs. Upon the landing of the first she met Germaine Soubize. "Oh, Lea, Duyvecke has written to me!" the slender young, rea-halred girl said to her as they passed each other. Ah! What does she say?" "Little Remineau has had a relapse. This time It is a veritable attack of mu cous fever, unmistakably defined. She dare not leave him. She says If he were to die in her absence she would feel that she had killed him." "Well?" "She Is stopping with him." •Without any further exchange or con fidences the two girls went on, each in her own direction. Lea, while walking toward the library, remembered the con fusion created among 1 the members of the general staff of the school the day before by Duyvecke's absence. They had tried to hide their confusion, and no one dared to discuss it. They even pretended that Duyvecke had acted wisely. "She could not let the. little one die through her fault.". In her place they would all have acted as she had done, But each of Duyvecke's companions asked herself In secret. Will she return? The uneasiness created by this defection, the first that had occurred since the foundation of the school, was Increased by a vague fear of the financl.il embarrass ments of Mile, de Salnte-Parade. by the emotion, due to the Inspector's visit and his pronounced hostility. Lea thought, as she walked along: "Duyvecke is guided by fate. In spite of herself she will re main at Remineau's and will marry him. She pulled herself up in her thoughts by an effort of will. She was afraid of com paring herself to Duyvecke. Did she hope for a similar constraint, for a pressure upon the part of Destiny that would also liberate her? « The echool library occupied three me dium-sized rooms upon the second floor, lined with shelves and furnished with a few bamboo armchairs. Most of the books were Dauer-backed. Ud to the "Jhanks, jfl 3xl ndrine. put Jt on My Jable." present there had been no money to b:nd thorn. They came from Pir nitz's o!d library and increased by gifts from each of the foundresses, and, above all, by a fine collection t>f classical authors taken from Mile, de Sainte-Parade's residence; for, as .Mile, de Salnte-Parade never read a line, she had offered them to the school. In each room there was a window opening upon the square, planted with chestnut, trees, which formed the other side of the Kue Delornel. They w<:e b:-.y windows, with a little bench running around each one. When Lea came In two of the three rooms were empty: in the third a pupil was copying out of the "Universal Geog raphy," by Reclus. Lea sat down on a bench in one of the windows. Evening was slowly descending. An orange col ored light gilded and reddened the top* of the trees, the roofs in the Rue Delor nel and In the neighboring Rue St. Charles, and the pointed steeple of the church. Lea recnlied 5n ber memory an evening at the beginning of summer sim ilarly glorified by a reddish sunset. It was in Surrey, after a day spent with Georg. About the same hour they had stopped at a little old-fashioned English inn, the Rutland Arms, to take afternoon tea. Yes, a similar orange hadrblushed the light atmosphere that evening, and the tenacious memory of the eyes suddenly reanimated all the souvenirs, all the pic tures of that happy period. The past rose up victoriously before her, moro real than the unreal. Indifferent present. Was not all that had happened since then a con fufed dream— their return to France, the two "attempts made by Georg to win his betrothed, the long months spent in the school in a state of artificial exaltation? It seemed to Lea that another person had usurped her. thoughts and her Mfc! To day time and space were annihilated, and she seemed to reconquer her former per sonality! She became again the joyous traveler pouring out the steaming tea for Georg Ortsen in the little parlor of the Rutland Arms, lit up by the orange rays of the sunset. She heaved a sigh for freedom. Open- Ing her portfolio, she took out the book, untied the string without haste, unfolded a number of the Bristol Herald in which It was wrapped, and, comfortably in stalled in the corner of the window, began to read. It was a cheap .eighteen penny edition of an English novel, entitled "William Powell's Two Sisters: translated from the Finnish of Tlnka Ortsen, by Mrs. Irving Clarke." It was bound 'in cardboard, with a design, in tawdry colors, at once loud and tasteless, so inartistic was their juxtaposition. It represented a woman sitting on astono bench with a man at her feet. Lea examined the first page, thinking she might find some Indication as to its origin, perhaps a little dedication. But the page was blank; not a single word was written upon it. . • ' "One of the most varied and picturesque fiarts of England for travelers Is cer ainly the county of Derbyshire, near the old thermal station called. Buxton, where Queen Anne formerly went to take the baths." . Lea read and reread this phrase me chanically. It seemed to her quite de void of sense. She had never been to Derbyshire. She had never heard of Bux ton, and then her very deception made her realize that she had expected to find the As for Nora, this is how the author de scribed her: "She hud this peculiarity, her soul seem ed to te almost always sleeping, as slum bers a little child. It was a calm and peaceful sleep, probably more peaceful thnn its vigils; tor, when awakened, it displayed a keen desire to enjoy life, to be moved by powerful sensations. And as she did not know how to procure, these sensations. Nora would sit at the piano for hours; for hours she would woo art to give her peace. And, fatigued by its own exaltation, Nora's soul would fall asleep again." Nora had a sister named Julia. In de scribing her the author had certainly used Frederiquc as a model. But she had drawn a Northern Frederique, harshei, more rigid, than the original one. "Julia and Nora," continued the book, "were born in Finland, where the Creator seems to have measured parsimoniously all the joys of warmth and light und where for six months in the year one might say that nature la dead. Like the plants and the trees, they had only learned half of life, t And yet, though, they thought they lived, a vague inner conscience warned them that one day they would live more fully, more intensely. They did nothing to hasten that awakening. And as there was no i disturbing element in their sur roundings that awakening could only take place owing to the development of their own conscience." The tragic, conscientious scruple which really drove. ' the Herstens from Finland had been Ingeniously changed and jitll- Izcd. Julia and • Nora discovered that their father and mother were not mar ried, that their mother's real husband was still alive, that, she had left him almost immediately after their marriage to live with a lover, and that Julia and Nora were born of this union! Bereft of respect tor their mother, they dared not beg her to return to the path of duty, so the two young girls preferred to leave the paternal dwelling and to take a refuge in Germany. There they met William -Powells, who immediately aroused their sympathy by his wretched polltude. His wife had left her home, like the mother of Julia and Nora. The two sisters resolved to unite their lives with that of William and thus' to try and atone as much as lay in their power a little of their mother's fault. They would brighten his loneliness with their tenderness. In their Idea — and also In William's — this tenderness was to be a purely frater nal affection, but it changed gradually into a more overwhelming and less inno cent sentiment. They both became at tached to William, but William loved No ra only. And one evening, after a walk which made Lea's heart throb quickly — for she recognized in it the Richmond in cident—William and Nora's lips met in an ardent kiss. The girl was immediately filled with horror* of herself. It was In vain that William showed her that a di vorce was possible, that the courts would certainly grant it in his favor. . Nora re plied inflexibly: "I did not come to profit by your wife's sin. but to comfort you and cherish you with a sister's love. That which human law permits here and forbids elsewhere does not concern me. You have a wife still living." Julia, jealous of William's love for Nora, strengthened her In her determination to sacrifice herself. She decided to leave She s v r m Iscd v'SWiB IHi who sent it! Im^^&hpJlh h She stuck firm- \u«S-! M f ly to her task \SpiK*ili§l until the end of WSt%i- ml the lesson, and eVnlvl' m I fli<l not return fffitl |3 to licr platform Isiwl' ilk until she had Wmll HHs!^ pivcn the signal Mall?! »SlsS3fc. to the girls to / \ff r*' :^£ii put the drawing fe^W^T boards, brushes V**§3&*i« and other mate- JPte£r^*i4fct. rials In order. From the draw ing class the girls went to the cloakroom with their blouses and then to the playground to take tea. Lea did not follow them, and was left alone, standing before her table, face to face with the little packet, which she regard ed without touching. When she had read the address she felt a little relief. It was not entirely whfit she had dreaded. That strange writing, almost the writing of a child, full of Ir regularities that formed a striking con trast with the immense capital letters, re vived in Lea's memories souvenirs of a little mahogany desk, strewn with hun dreds of sheets of paper, covered with the same handwriting, and a sort of child woman with a doll's face and short, curly fair hair, sitting before the desk biting a cork. penholder. Tinka Ortsen! The desk upon which sho wrote in the drawing room in Appletree Yard! And the novels that she read oloud as fast as she imag ined them, half turning toward her cus tomary listeners, with an even, tranquil voice! Lea could see again that little fig ure, with the air of a fairy, princess, her feet barely reaching to the carpet, and rarely changing the outline of her short, white starched skirt! „:*. "Why has Tinka sent me-'a book? Although less disquieting than a letter, the packet signified an intention, a desire to renew relations that had been broken for a year and a half. Lea was terrified to find that this return into tne past, far from startling her as it would have done formerly, now charmed her. Her heart beat with an irresistible Joy. a joy so overwhelming that It swept away all sad ness and all anxiety. She did not tear oft the wrapping of the book. She felt incapable of taking any resolution, 'ihe cries of the pupils play- Ing In the courtyard reached her ears en feebled by fae distance, for the yard ex tended to the other side of the buildings In the Rue dcs Vergers. Lea followed her customary routine, put everything in or der, then slipped the book into her leather portfolio, left the classroom, taking the key with her. attained the lavatory, where she washed her hands and face. Then, and then only, she hesitated. Pirnltz and Madame Sanz were absent: they had b*gun the furnishing of the lit tle house they had rented In the Avenue Henri Martin for the pupils of the Free College. But Frederlque would certainly be In the playground: The duty of gen eral supervision fell to one of the foun dresses in rotation, and it was Fred erique's turn to-day. Lea felt that she could not sustain her elder sister's gaze. It was already so hard for her to with stand, it seemed to scrutinize her very Boul-on ordinary, occasions. How could Bho hide from her such profound emo tions? She felt she had not courage to reveal its cause to her." She thought of the library, and as noon as the idea occurred to her she beheld herself reading the mysterious book in the corner by the window. She took up her leather portfolio again, and with her heart beating like that of one hurrying to upon an idle, tyrannical society. In the silence a little voice cried from the neighboring room: "Mamma Vecke!" Duyvt-cke ran to the child's bed, Reml neau and Germaine following her. Gaston put his arms around Duyvecke's neck as she bent over him and whispered in her ear. They only heard the young girl's reply. "I will come again." "No." said the child aloud: "you must not go away. You must stop here. You must stop here always." Duyvecke kissed him again. "All right." she said. Gaston a head fell back on the pillow, but his black, wide-open eyes never left the pretty Fleming's face. He was still anxious, and had made up his mind not to bo cheated again. They withdrew from the bed. "What did he whisper in your ear?" asked Romir.oau. "He wants me to stay with him. Xatur ally eaougb, 1 replied yes. Hut it is late. 1 must go with Germaine. The doctor will not need mo, as everything is going on so satisfactorily. Besides, I doubt that he will come now. it is so late." "Jt is after 10 o'clock," said Germaine. "1 will tro arid put on my hat. and Ger maine ami I will -run away through the dining-room." "1 hunt? tho little chap won't suspect anything. " murmured Ilemineau, in an anxious tori. "He will make such a row if ho discovers that you are gone." "Nonsense. You must tell him 1 am resting. t!-nt 1 am asleep, and that he must not awaken me. He will end by go :rg to s:et>p." U'liilc- speaking she adjusted a black r;r:i\v bat on the heavy ma: : a of curly fair hair. \,ut. In spite or herself, her voice trembled. The two girls softly cript out of the dining-room through the door open ing Into the hall. Kemineau accompanied th«?rn, moodier than ever. As they were iioftly saying good-by the door of the bod room Opened suddenly and they saw Csas ton with hi.* bare feet, trembling In his blue shirt, a lamentable little living skele ton. "Ah! Great heavens!" cried Duyvecke. She caught him up quickly and carried him to his bed: ecverlng him with kisses nrhiifl scolding him. '"Oh. >i v naughty boy. You naughty •>oy. to ;:et up v.'ztho'.it my leave. You caugrhty child. 1 will not come again." The child, without weeping, his ryes burning with fever; clasped his thin fing « ri- arour.d EJuyyecke's aim. around her n<''". :•: d r«"JC-siTi-:iiy dr pvoly : "'Mamma Vedse mn^t nut go away. She xnufi r.ot 6O away. 1 won't iot her." lie trembled; h:s t-eth (pattered, and apain an alarming red Qush r n se to his cheek?. Germaine whispered in Duy \ecke's oar: "If you do not step, that child is going to bave another access of fever." Deyvecke; kneeling near her bed, re assured tho boy and promised to r?:nain. With his nervous hands he grasped the trim cf the straw hat in an endeavor to remove it- Doyvecke laughed: "You are hurting me! You are pulling my ba!rrv Fhe had to take oft her hat. and only then would Gastoo be pacified. He would not allow Duyvecke to go away from the bed. and as ehe made a movement an though to ro Into tho riinir.ir room he al m<-st jumped out of bed again. '"What am I to do?" Duyvecke asked Gfrrp;;ine. •JThere is nothing to do but to stop here." "Oh. yes. Mile. Duyvecke!*! stammerer! Remineau. hi.s face working nervously. "Step here. I pray you! The little fe'.low wr.n't rrmfin in be«l if he seos you jro awsy. I will leave the place if you liv** 1 will git outside en the stairs, o*r, if you prefer, I will go for some worr.ari to watch and nurs^ h!rr> with us; then no one can say anything." "It ia not what people here will Fay that is troubling me." said DuyvecVe. Ehrujrclng her shoulders, "but at the Bchcol!" '11 v.ill tell ther"< what has hanpencd." rrli Germaine. "Do you think Daisy or Pirnlta wbuld r>ct differently if they were in yoi?r place?" "Oh! Daisy, no. Tint. Pirnitz— l ranno* ray. In any r.isc, it's God's wi]J. I shall stop! Try and make our friends under stand that it was impossible for me to rciurn." / As soon as Oe'maine had left Remi nesii took Duy« oleo's hftnd and attemp* f<\ to k!ss It. But drew it away, sud denly erp.'o;»r»*as==« i rl and oonfused. "I pray you. Remi, leave me alone with the littl« one!" Ho vrnt away, went as far from her np the limited ronm wou'o 1 allow him. and took refuge in the kitchen. Duyvecke. Firtinc- on f.n«ton"« rr<l. rested her head upon th<> pUItOT; her cheek against his r-heok. The child caressed her with his little m< ist hands for a s^nn time, touched hr-r with bis li'js nnd then fell asleep. And sh^ also fell n«leen. slum borine roondly in nil the tranquillity as surfti her by a superb henlth. Al! .his time the arti=«n sculptor, sit ting on a Fto->1 in tho kitchen, his heels unon one of the crosshnrs. his hands clasped around his knees, watched throuph the oppn window a corner of the blue sky. Bcixitlilatinj; the stars, whlcr was outlined by tho chimneys and carrets of the neiehborlns houses. He did not want of F!e"p. He did not ever want to move. He was completely happy. CH AFTER VI Tho vast rectangular room where Lea p.ivp her lessons In water colors to a score of puj.ils v.-as bright that afternoon In Juno, with the warm rays of sunlight still powerful, though it was after 4 o'clock. On the other side of the Rue Delormel, whore tliis wing of the building was sit uated, the chestnut trees on tho vacant plot of ground showed their motionless verdure, dry and dust-laden, above the boundary wall. Not a breath of fresh air w.iF stirring outside. Tho twenty girls in their glazed calico blouses, perched on high stools or standing before their desks, lr-anr-d over the drawing boards with brows covered with beads of perspiration, thoir eyes attentively watching the splash of color made by tho brush, while they bit their lips cr a little jtrimace contorted their mouths in the effort to obey their in structions. In spite of the big window openings and the scrupulous cleanliness of everything, the large room, with its white walls, was lillt-d with the acrid odor of thotr damp hair, of their youthful, perspiring, imprisoned bodies. Lea went along their ranks Inspecting them one after the other. For a little time she would stand without speaking, following the work of the pupil, who who sometimes stopped, upon which she would say: "Don't stop! Continue! Don't pay any attention to mo." When a wash of color had been laid on she would make a few remarks. Sometimes she would take the brush her- Eelf and illustrate her observations with a direct example, skillfully correcting a mistake, and then go to the next pupil. During the two long hours that this daily water color class iasted she did l.ot In terrupt her lesson for a single moment The pupils even -noticed that she took less and less leisure every day. She no longer, as formerly, returned for a mo ment to the little platform reserved for the mistrefs to write a letter, to glance over a ir..ipazinc or to rest. Only a few minutes he-fore the young artists, grave and orderiy, though they retained all the curiosity and mischievous spirit natural to their age. had witnessed an instance of this professional, devotion. The girl who wns the monitress for the week had oome In with a little packet, apparently a book, delivered by the postman, and walked toward Lea. holding it out to her. ]>a was rectifying a tint in the little color tablet cf a pupil, and she said, with out taking the book: "T.hanks. Alexandrine. Put It on my table." And while twenty pairs of eyes follow ed the course of the book in Alexandrine's hand, its ascension on the platform, and, finally, its installation on the mistress' ta ble. Lea calmly added -drops of -water to the yellow ochre in the tablet. "You see. Alice," she said to the little brunette with Chinese eyes, whose stool she hnd taken for the moment, "if you do not prepare the tint very carefully b> mixing it thoroughly and by seeing that everything is perfect before you begin, you may be as careful as you like in put ting on the wash. It will always be spotty. There, the color Is ready! Now lay it on quickly with an even brush." She gave up her place quickly to Alice Aubry. who. climbing on to the stool, set to work again, quite proud of having at tracted the attention of the mistress, and began to paint with her short-sighted, al mond-shaped eyes almost on the board. "Adele, you did not wash your brush properly. s=o the color lias altered while you were painting. The red has become brown. My dear Claire, you have forgot- portrait of herself in the book! She had been convinced, absolutely certain, that it would relate her story and that of Georg. She resumed her reading. The story con tinued with an Interminably minute de scription of the little city of bath 3 built at the bottom of a sort of funnel formed by the high hills, a spur from neighbor ing mountains. All Tinka's novels began in this way. The opening was always wearisome, long and cloudy, as though the author's ideas awoke with an effort. Little by little, like tho breaking of day, life and warmth began to vivify the pages until the reader was surrounded by a flame so bright, so ardent and so pure thai the very obscurity of the beginning was illum inated by contrast with it. Lea, after hav ing glanced through a quarter of the vol ume with an irritated impatience, felt the influence of this mysterious flame, one capable of illuminating the most abstruse theories, of animating beings that cold reason would regard as impossible. The two characters of the book were face to face. They were drawn vividly, at once simply and surely, without any attempt after effect; seen, as it were, from within, with a marvelous sense of what might be called the realization of the pic turesque side of their souls. And In those two souls Lea found her own and that of Georg. Only, by an unexpected artifice, the author had changed their sex; Wil liam represented Lea and Nora represent ed Georg. How could Lea fall to recog nize in the following lines the modltled delineation of her own nature? "William made one think of a red rose bush cultivated in a Northern hothouse, a plant upon which had been grafted one of those simple pale roses of Scandinavia which resemble a lily. Only regular prun ing prevented nature- from liberating the original sap that struggled and rebelled against the constraint of the thorny branches. And if for two successive sea sons the gardener should neglect to trim the plant the sap would conquer and red roses bloom instead of the pale, abortive lilies." THE SUNDAY CALIi. ness and death, was It not becaua© aha saw Georg dying before her eyes? "I have killed you! cried Nora at tha end of the book. And that despairing cry haunted Lea. She could only think of Georg now. with "William's features. Feeble and ill. he re covered toe influence over- his betrothed that he had exercised in London hefora her modesty had taken alarm. She had been strong to oppose him when she saw him twice afterward in Paris, robust and insisting upon his rights, almost imperl ous and more like ordinary men. But now she was anxious, softened, ready to yield when she again thought of him. weak, solitary and dying through h*r absence. "Are you ready, dearest?' Lea was so profoundly lost In reflection that she had not even- thought of dissimu lating or of breaking the silence with a few words. Her sister's voice aroused her. She was standing before the mir ror, her toilet finished, her eyes gaziag into vacancy. "Yes. I am ready." "Let us go down." said Frederlqua. "The second bell has rung." They were the last to arrive in the din lng-room. Each went to her place. Lea surrounded by her favorites, Alice Aubry, Lydia Ronacker, Georgette Vincent and little Alexandrine, woo had brought Tinka's book to her in the afternoon. Tha youthful chatter and conversation con tinued as usual. They talked about drawing, about wacer-color painting, about experiments in chemistry, about their games of prisoners' base, about gar dening and also about Komaine's lectures. Lea usually took part in their conversa tion. Something in her was really Inter ested In them in spite of her melancholy. JBut that evening their talk seemed to her like a distant, indifferent echo. She did not even try to raakf a pretense of Joining in their talk. She replied to Alexandrine, who remarked her abstrac tion: "Yes, dearest, I am rather anxious." The end of the meal set her at liberty. Pupils and mistresses dispersed and went into the courtyard. Lea joined a group which included lime. Sanz. Pirnitz. Fred erique. Germaine and Daisy, gathered around a bench under the acacias. The evening was very sultry. The tall sur rounding buildings, the school as well aa the workshops, scorched all day long by the blazing sun. seemed to radiate a sort of ardent reverberation in the evening. Even the children's habitual inclination for movement seemed to be a little sub dued by the heavy atmosphere. They walked about in parties, or, sitting ia cir cles, talked in semi-whispers. As Lea took a place r.tar Pirr.itz, Mile. Heurteau was saying: "According to the information T hays been able to gather, an organized cam paign against us is beginning. The So maine de tit. Charles ia on too good terms with the municipality to have declared war without a. previous understanding." "But we have, no quarrel with the mu nicipality," objected Frederique. "No, out we refui;e to be dependent upon it, and that is what irritates tho authorities. We have refused the subven tion they offered us for prizes. You re member we refused It somewhat against my advice." "We could not accept it." saM Plrnltz, "as we do not give any prizes." "We ought to have accepted It all th« same. Conditions are different in Paris from what they are in London. We c:m only exist by the tolerance of the admin istiative authorities, and they will not tolerate us unless we at least pretend to take them seriously ami to have need of them." As she uttered the word?, a fleeting, tawny Hash gleamed in the warm haze. "Lightning:" said Germaine Soubize. in a startled voice. "Yes." said Mme. Sanz, "a storm I» threatening. The day has been so sultry. It has been difficult to breathe." The air became charged with electric ity. There were no clouds in the sky, and yet it was now difficult to discern tho stars. The flash of lightning had agitated the pupils. They all ro?e, then came together again, forming bigger and more silent groups. Germaine took Lea's hand, and Lea felt the girl's nervous lingers griu inic into her flesh. "I do not like storms," whispered Ger maine. "Oh! It Is far from here." snld Lea- It will probably not break over us." "Do you think so?" asked Germaine, anxiously. Mile. Ileurteau continued to expose her Ideas regarding the events of the day. "Our neighbor, the most influential man In the Council, is against us." she said. "What! lmramberty?" cried t>aiay. "Why, he founded a. scnolarship here! ll» has never shown ua any hostility.'" "Duramberty is our enemy; Krederlqu© knows it well. Everybody knows it." Frederique did not reply and fi_>lt happy that the dusk hid her sudden blush. \V aj it possible every one kntw the painful se cret of the past, the infamous proposition made to her by the manufacturer, the re fusal she had given him? Had they di vined it. or had the manufacturer carried his Impertinence so far as to relate tho incident himself? "They are a lot of wretches:" cried Germame Soublze. "And to think that such a council pretends to be socialistic. that not one of the members will take our part' If we were not poor, feeble worm-n they would not dare attack us: But we wilt defend ourselves, even if we ara women! The inspector was wise not to conn- into my Class! With the help of two or three of my big pupils I would have thrown him through the window."' They all laughed, and Daisy Craggs cried: "Come, cyme, Germaint. Don't ba angry!" "Angry!" replied Oermaine. "Were you angry at my a«e when you were on puard with a ritle in '-our h.nrd at tho window of your father's 'arm in Galway, where Fenians were hidden?" "All that is so long ago." said Daisy, with a sigh. "Besides, we are not In Ire land." "I think the situation i 3 exactly the same!" said Germaine, more excitedly. "Our enemies want to drive us out of our house, exactly as the English landlords evict their Irish tenants. 1 don't know what you're going to do, but no one shall lay a finger on me with impunity!" In the silence that followed her last words the sky quivered ¦with a fresli flash of lightning. All conversation cea»e<l. Every one listened. A slight rumbling like the funereal beat of a muffled (irum was heard dying away in the west. Then sud denly a gust of wind from some unknown point swayed tho slender acacias and swent a cloud of dust across the court yard. "Oh! let us go in," said Germaine, in a charged TOlCe. The bell rang the end of evening recrea tion and the hour for retiring, fastinct ively silent at the approach of the sfTm. the pupils hurried toward the school buildings. The mistresses. Krouped before the door, waited until they had passed. Oermaine pressed close to Lea and laid her forehead upon her companion's shoul der to avoid pef lng the lightning. Lea looked up at the sky. whore now could h* seen but a single star. The approaching storm bad tensed her nerve* also. riut this strife of atmospheric forces agitated her without alarming her. She was living In that state of Intimate distress in which the conflict of the elements teems a har monious benefit. Like the dethroned, de spairing King Lear, she could have cried to the tempest: '"Blow, winds, and cr«ic!c your cheeks!" • The pupils were all Indoors. A confused trampling like that of a little flock of sheep died away in the spiral of th» stair case. A few big drops of rain fell on tho mistresses as they were entering in turn. Alexandrine, the little minitress. was giv ing out the evening mail in the vestibule. Lea recosnlzed t-dith Crates' writing upon a letter she handed to Daisy. Pir nitz, taking an envelone from Alexan drine's hand, murmured In a whisper to Frederique: "It's from Duyvecke!" She slipped the letter In her pocket. Daisy, on the contrary, went upstairs reading hers. On the first floor they all separated. "Edith sends you her best wtsftes." raid Daisy to Frederlque and Lea, r.ho wero going to their room together, "dhe ha* decided to leave Clarisa & Sor.3 and to become a nurse." Her sentence was lnterrur>*eil by the sound of doora slamrr.lnjr. nil the doors that had been opened and thru the wind shut furiously. The smell of warm rain filled the corritlcr. "Oh, come with mo. Daisy." muttered Germalr.e, "I dare not leave you." "Good night!" cried Daisy to the two sisters, walking away with Gerrruiine. The rain beat upon the windows while I^en and Frederique were undressing and making their evening toilet. The storm appeared to have resolved Itself into this tropical deluge The rumbling was less frequent and faint. The rumbMn? thun der that followed the flasi.o-i at lornr inter val* was hardy audible. The two sisters exchanged but a few words, then were Filer.!, and finally lay down without any further conversation. When the light had beon put out Freflerlqup'j h;in<! sought tha.. of Lea upon the neisbbortnjc couc".». and the little hand «<he took In hers, at first inert and indifferent: little by little returned her tender pressure. The evening when, orphnns and exiles, they had landed at Fresh Whnrf. in Lon don, they had sOent thus in bed-? placed close together, their hands had clasped. before falling into their first sleep on forelen soil, they had embraced in loving affection. LEA 6