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tunny-fish and crackers with relish, Artist was attracted to the caves by reached a little town inland from Man-' the hope of finding vantage-points from delieu about seven o'clock that night which to sketch Grasse and Cannes and with no clear knowledge of from where Antibes and the Alps and the castle on or how they had come.

Saint-Honorat. But he soon came to Between the town of Théoule and the love the copper rocks, which pine needles belvedere of the Esquillon, down along had dyed, and deserted black and white the water's edge, one never tires of ex for colors. When the climate ploring the caves. Paths lead through he was not loath to join in my hunt for the pines and around the cliffs. The octopi. The inhabitants tell thrilling

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stories of the monsters that lurk under lay face downward on island stones. the rocks at the Pointe de l’Esquillon With the enthusiastic help of my chiland forage right up to the town. One is dren, I made a dummy stuffed with warned to be on his guard against long pine cones, and let him float at the end tentacles reaching out swiftly and si of a rope. Never a tentacle, let alone lently. One is told that slipping might octopus, appeared. I had to rest conmean more than a ducking. Owners of tent with Victor Hugo's stirring picture villas on the rocks make light of octopi in The Toilers of the Sea. stories, and, as local boomers are trying A plotting wife encouraged the octoto make Théoule a summer resort, it is pus hunts by taking part in them, and explained that the octopi never come expressing frequently her belief in the near the beach. Even if they did, they imminent appearance of the octopi. She would not be dangerous there. How declared that sooner or later my reward could they get a hold on the sand with

would come.

She threw off the mask some tentacles while others were grab on the ist of May, when she thought bing you?

it was time to return to work. She I have never wanted to see anything announced to the Artist and me that quite so badly as I wanted to see an the octopi had gone over to the African octopus at Théoule. Octopus hunting coast to keep cool until next winter, surpasses gathering four-leaf clovers and and that we had better all go to Paris fishing as an occupation in which hope to do the same. We were ready. Théoule eternal plays the principal rôle. I was still lovely, and the terrace breakgradually abandoned other pursuits and fasts had lost none of their charm. But sat smoking on rocks by the half-day. I one does not linger indefinitely on the learned over again painfully the boy- Riviera unless dolce far niente has behood way of drinking from a brook, and come the principal thing in life.




HARLOTTE EBER- they rested along the wicker arms of the
LIE, her ardent eyes chair. “Just a minute, Charlotte. I-
like blue flowers in sun I have never talked to you about your
shine, looked up from father—your own father.”
her footstool to her "No," answered Charlotte, suddenly
mother in the judg- colorless, carefully negative, expressing

ment-seat above her. neither invitation nor rebuff. The judgment-seat was merely a chaise “I think I must talk to you of him longue of silvery gray wicker, cushioned now. You-you are like him, very like. in a piled fabric of more darkly shim And he was not a man to find happiness, mering gray, but Charlotte had always or to give it, in marriage." called it the judgment-seat. It was there “Mother, how immoral of you!” cried that Leila Marsh sat to listen to the the girl, restive under earnestness. children and the servants, to weigh their "Surely you aren't going over to the problems, adjust their feuds, mete out theory of the - family - is - doomed,' or their punishments; on the little stand 'the - Family - be - damned,' or whatever beside it, even now, the household ac they call it? Surely you aren't going to count-books stood waiting in an orderly counsel me to-er-the sort of life in pile. Leila was not an indolent woman, which my father, presumably, gave and despite the chair; but life had taught found happiness?" her to conserve the energy that, un "No." Leila had always met even watched, unconfined, would long since the crudest of Charlotte's Aippancies have consumed her along with itself. without other reprimand than coldly

“Well, mother?” The girl kept her and completely to ignore them. “I am voice light by a rather apparent effort. merely trying to say this to you—you Her smile was fixed. The flower-like must be sure of yourself, very sure. blue of her eyes darkened and hardened Don't-how shall I put it inoffensively? to a bright jewel. “Aren't you going to -make any man the victim of your exsay, ‘Bless you, my children’?”!

perimentation with love. I suffered bitMrs. Marsh accorded the quotation terly in my youth at your father's the recognition of a faint smile. "I hands. And that was not all. He suflike your Charlie


much,” she con fered also. Oh yes, he suffered in a ceded; but, obviously, something still thousand ways. He was, of course, interposed between her and the blessing bored with the scenes I made him at of consent for which her daughter asked. first. And he had no taste for inflicting

“Good!” cried that young lady with pain-he hated to hurt me. That is a forced vivacity, designed to cover a why he preferred to deceive me—” certain nervousness. 'And

like me

Charlotte started. In all her twentyvery much, and you highly approve the one years she had never known that holy state of matrimony, so that,” ironic edge, of which her mother's voice

"Just a minute, dearest." Leila's was capable, turned homeward, turned hands, white, delicately cared for, yet upon herself or any intimate association. withal tragic, had the trick which the But it was gone as Leila hurried on. hands of the resolutely self-contained

“He suffered also, even if not so often have; they sometimes revealed sharply as I. And I have no doubt that the intensities which her face was his life would have been much happier, schooled not to obtrude upon her world.

. much more productive, if he had marThey did this now; they clasped and ried a woman either capable of holding unclasped nervously; they fluttered as him or capable of bearing with his in

Vol CXXXVI.-No. 813.-56

fidelities. Wait a minute, Charlotte--" have loved you!" Then she sprang to for in the girl's lifted face interruption her feet. She avoided intensities-she was imminent. “Let me finish. I have had had her fill of them long, long ago; never talked to you about him before, she wanted no more of them now. and I shall not again. But now you are

“That's all, Charlotte, dear. I wanted old enough to hear me out; you have to help you to understand yourself bea trained mind; you must listen and fore you made irrevocable vows to that judge for yourself, make your own deci nice boy. For vows are irrevocable, sions. I don't expect temptation to however we seem to smash themcome to you in such varied or—or such “I'm sure of myself,” stated Charvulgar forms as it came to Thurston.” lotte, briefly, following her mother's exCharlotte shrank a little. She had never ample and getting to her feet. And before heard her mother call her father's I do understand myself better—a little. name. “You are a woman, which is in And you better-a lot." itself a safeguard, at any rate from the “That,” replied Leila, smiling, "is grosser, more promiscuous dangers. And

unnecessary, even undesirable. Run I think-I hope with all my heart-your along now, dear. I'm going to ring for upbringing has not made for selfishness Miss Kenney to come and go over the and self-indulgence. But you are Thur- books-ston Eberlie's own daughter. You have "And I'm engaged? And you'll break his eyes, his mouth, his laugh. His it to Dad? And to the dear public? avidity for pleasure is in you, his zest And Charlie may come down from for change, and some of his hardness— Quentin for the parental benediction?” and some of his charm. Now you un “Yes. Run along, now." With an derstand why I want you to be very sure impulsiveness rare in her relations with of yourself before you marry Mr. her children, she leaned forward and O'Halloran"

kissed the girl. She stopped abruptly. She was look Yet, when the straight, pliant, young ing over her daughter's thick, wavy, figure had disappeared, her hand, outchestnut hair, out through the thin net stretched toward the bell in the panel curtains of her windows toward the beside the door, fell back. She turned, lake, heaving slow, lead-colored waves, and, walking to the window, looked out save where there flashed a pool of living across the broad, leafless boulevard to steel from the reflection of the afternoon the lake. It was all in sullen shadow sun pushing strongly through a mass of again, the sun withdrawn from the gray clouds. Her eyes were somber and leaden welter of waters. With nervous, stormy like the waters of the lake, and white hands that gave the lie to the shot, too, with a shaft of brilliant light. smooth tranquillity of her brow, she The girl looked long at the absent, hand- caught at the curtain-cord. A shudder some face above her, marked the curious shook her. confession of suffering in the white It was eighteen years since Thurston hands outstretched upon the chair. And Eberlie had passed out of her life; through her selfish shrinking from the eighteen years since she had first known sight of tragedy, her selfish absorption loneliness, anguish, the humiliation of in her own plans, there pierced the nature weakly clamoring for a thought that she, all unconscious, had love withdrawn, and that fierce purpose been the daily reminder of the poignan- which is the human spirit's expression cies that had darkened those eyes, of its instinct to live. In them, too, she shaped those hands.

had known gratitude, affection, com"Mother,” she whispered, “how you panionship, the warm revival of the must have hated me!"

capacity for happiness. In them she Leila Marsh brought her gaze back had dared marriage again, had borne from the lake. With a sudden melting children, had experienced life, full, sweet, of her glance, she seemed to caress the orderly-even noble, as lives go. Yet, young face uplifted to her in fascination with all that lay between her and that and fear.

day, how its memory, once admitted, “Ah, my dear!" she said. “How I still had power to tear at her heart!


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Drawn by W. B. ing


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