The Human Vampire; Or, The Elixir of Life — page 13: what you’re looking at

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Vol 4, No. ul THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY. 13 _ “She looked awfully ill after she went back tothe ball-room,” said Celeste, ‘‘ but she was very brave.’”’ ‘“Why should she make such a fuss because the man looked like her husband?” asked Madge Warren. Both women were on the beach; Madge was there to look after little Clifford Derwent, and Celeste to wait upon her mis- tress, who was enjoying her sea bath. ‘' Well, you see she 1s a spiritulist and fancies she can com- municate with him.” ‘«{ think the whole business is folly. I suppose the man does not look so very like him after all.” Madgo spoke carelessly, but her large gipsy eyes were fixed on Celeste's face, and she awaited her reply with interest. ‘Like him!”’ cried the excitable French girl; ‘‘he is his very ghost, his apparition!” ‘© Ah, I should like to see him.” ‘Well, you cannot understand the resemblance. neyer saw Monsieur Derwent.” “Tye seen his picture,” said Madge, coldly. this the ventleman now?” Two men were strolling along thesand. One was Mr. Decker, the other his uncle, Mr. Lohn. “Why, yes. How did you know?” «By (he resemblance to Mr. Derwent's picture.” As soonas the men were abreast of tle two women, Madge soid something rapidly ina language unknown to her compan- jon, Mr. Decker started violently, and turning rapidly, replied. He had changed color and looked confused, and at o loss what to do, Madge addressed him once more. For a moment he hesitated, then answered sullenly, and catch- ing his astonished friend by the arm, walked hastily away. “Why, Madge,” cried Celeste. ‘You know Mr. Decker, and what was that language you ased?” “eT saw Mr. Decker years 0, in England.” ‘<Buat what was it you said? Did you speak German?” «© Yos, [ spoke German.” ‘*But why not English, if he is an Englishman?” ‘He speaks German. Now, hush up; I want to think.” Celeste was offended by her abrupt manner, but too much in- terested in the mystery to break up her friendship-——for the present. Madge did not say another word to Celeste, but her dark brows remained knit in a frawn, and her eyes were gloomy and vacant. Her thoughts were evidently far away. Once she spoke angrily to the little child, and so roughly pushed him away as he clung to her skirts, that he fell on the sand and eried loudly. ‘‘Spoiled brat!’ she said, stamping her foot, while her finshed cheeks and flashing eyes frightened the boy still more, and he whimpered pitifully, and put out his hands to Celeste for protection. “Why, Madge, what has come to you?” asked Celeste, in aroazement. “Nothing. Iam sick of that brat. spoiled. I would like to fling him ont there for the waves to sport with. LDhate him!” Again she stamped her foot, and in the gloomy depth of her eyes a strange mad fire burned like the glow in the heart of a ruby. ‘Poor little boy, what has he done?”’ Celeste said, in wonder; and the child laid his little arms around the angry woman's neck and clung to her. Madge burst into a passion of tears. and took the boy to her breast. She soothed him with loving words, and the child kissed her. “Worgive me, Celeste,” she said. “T have been rude und stupid. I have been thinking of old times, and when I give way to my temper for a time Iam mad.” “Oh, Tam not vexed. The sight of that Mr. Decker seems to upset every one. He must be the devil himself.” ‘Oh, he is a good man,” said Madge, calmly, ‘‘only the sight of his face recalled old times to me.” ‘¢Perhaps he knew your husband in those days?” suggested Celeste, who was dying of curiosity. “Yes,” replied Madge, with white drawn lips. my husband.” You, who ‘‘See, is not . He is so pampered and ‘© He knew CHAPTER XII. ‘© HER GIPSY BLOOD WILL SHOW ITSELF!” Years before that duy on the sands of Newport, a» woman walked the streets of Paris one night, with an infant on her breast. She had that day been discharged from the Maison la Pitie as a convalescent patient. She was a tall, upright woman, with a finely developed form, anda beautiful brunette face. Tt was a bitterly cold night in December, and the crowd in the street thinned rapidly away as it grew later, till by mid- night only an oceasional passer-by strode briskly along the Boulevard Beaumarehiais. It was an humble quarter of the city, and the woman who struggled feebly along 1t was a stranger. She was alone, friend- less, homeless, and penniless. A thin shawl covered herself and the infant, and she clutched it tightly around her, but it afforded little protection from the biting wind that tore and tossed it ns if in mocking. ‘he babe now and then uttered a faint gasping ery, and then its wretched mother wended her pace and sought to hush it by pressing it closer to her aching heart. On and on she struggled through the dark and silent street, now and then she drew near a wine-shop, and shrank sway in terror from the uvisy inmates who came forth reelmg and shouting. On and on, aimlessly, hopelessly, and madly. What was this womnn in search of? The river! Snow began to fall, softly, gently. Like a blessing from on high, it came in soft graceful curves from the pure abode above, hesitatingly and lazily, as if wishing to prolong the moments as it fell upon the dark and filthy street. The woman glanced up, the dark agony of her face growing shoxper, the despair more thorough and intense. The babo on her bosom moved, its little hands writhed convulsively, and touched her face. They were icy cold, and wet with the chilly death damp once to be endured by every mortal sonL She pauscd in her mad progress. She sank upon a door- step and strove to warm the little clinging fingers by breathing upon them. “Tt is dying!” she moaned. Strange, one moment ago she had longed for the chill om- brace of the Seine, now she tried to hold that feeble life by pressing it still closer to her breast. She tore aside the cover- ing from her bosom and laid the tiny fuce close against her heart. As she did so the babe gave one more faint gasp, one more convulsive struggle, then it was still. A soul had departed to God, who gave it. “Tt is dead!” A wild, despairing ory, unlike any human utterance, then she fell, her head striking on the pavement, and the quiet snow began to descend more rapidly. It had work to do. It must shroud these silent forms. How unlike this scene was the moon-lit beach at Newport. The murmur of the waves as they gently caressed the beach, the strains of a band, now and then the sound of a soft laugh. The moon rode high on her imperial way along the royal purple path-way. The beach was no longer thronged by pleasure- seekers: most of them were in-doors, dancing, or on the eool piazza, enjoying the salt fragrance of old ocean’s breath. A woman was alone on the sand, and her fuce was resolute aud moody in the cold golden light of the moon. Those dark eyes were full of brooding misery, the firm, shapely lips were set with determination. The woman, in her simple dark dress, as she noiselessly moved over the sand, looked like the specter of lost happiness—the spirit of revenge. Her hands were knotted loosely together, and she regarded not the beauty of the night, nor was conscious of aught about her. Her brain was busy with visions of the past. From the white pathway down the side of the cliff a man descended rapidly, and joined her. She saw him and stood still. He wus silent for a moment, then said: * Well, Madge, so we meet again, after all these years.” ‘Yes, L knew the time had come, even before I saw you.” Her manner was composed and calm. ‘Well, I suppose you expect me to do something to atone for the past?” He spuke hesitatingly, as if uncertain what mood she was in. ‘« Atone for the past!” Fire seemed to shoot from the dark, brooding eyes. ing devilishness sounded in her ery. ** Hush! For Heaven's sake, be quiet, Madge, I know I acted like a villain. Lown it, and I am ready to do all in my power to make up for the past.” He drew nearer; he tried to take her hand, but she moved rapidly away. ** You see, Madge, it cannot do you any good to expose me now, even if you loved me, which I do not believe you do.” “No; there you are right.’ “Well, I thonght you were too sensible. woman, Madge, and you should marry again. a A mock- You area handsoma Tn all proba- ' bility, you could make ayood match, if you took a little trouble. comicbooks.com