The Price
maiden-and womanhood-commonly identified her for inquiring strangers as "good old Doctor Bertie's 'only
mpshire, migrating to the dry winters of Minnesota for his young wife's health. The migration had been too long postponed to save the mother's life; but it had made a beautiful
by river. Patient little Miss Gilman was the least querulous of sufferers, but she was always very ill on a railway train. Hence Charlotte, who was at once physician, n
New Orleans, Miss Gilman was so far from being travel-sick that she was able to sit with Charlotte in the shade of the hurr
the daring robbery of the Bayou State Security, garnished with startling head-lines. Charlotte read it, half-absently at first, and a second time with interest awakened and a quic
it, Charl
the newspaper story of the
daylight! How shockingly bo
young lady was at the teller's window when the robber came
nk of it! Why, child, if anything had happened, a terrible murder might have been commi
ed at the purely personal limitat
st because I happened to be there. Yet it seems ridicu
dible?
, not quite comfortable some way; but the young man was smiling pleasantly, and he looked like anything rather than a desperate criminal. I can close
sm, unweakened by her long residence
otte? Would you recognize him if you sh
quite sur
uldn't trace you by your father's draft a
suppose they could, if they wante
the robber, sooner or later, and if they know how to f
d, but she had, or believed she had, very clear and well-defined ideas of her ow
a simple duty to go willingly. The first thing I thought of was tha
here could be no possible need for Charlotte's interference. Mr. Galbraith and the teller would be able to identify the robber, and a thousand eye-witnesses could do no more. At the end of the argument the con
sed. Not from the younger woman's thoughts, however. In the reflective field the scene in the bank recurred again and again until present
last instalment of the current serial, Charlotte let her book slip from her fingers and gave hersel
unding the plantation mansions on either bank. The majestic onrush of the steamer, the rhythmic drumbeat of the machinery, the alternating crash and pa
hom it was the birthland. Then the haunting scene in the New Orleans bank returned to disenchant her; and after striving vainly to put it aside, she reopened her book. But by this time the story had lo
hat the ropes were working loose. When it became evident that the boat would shortly fall into the river and go adrift, she got up and put the book aside, meanin
shoes of the man whom he had supplanted. But at this crisis the machinery of dissimulation slipped a cog. Where the ordinary deck-hand would have gone about his
e a great bound and then seemed suddenly to forget its office. While he was passing she clung to the back of her chair and forebore to cry out or otherwise to advertise her emotion. But when the strain was off she sank into her seat and closed her eyes to grapple with the unnerving discovery. It was useless to try to escape from the disma
d in honesty of purpose. None the less, she was a woman. And when she saw what was before her, conscience tur
caping bank robber, it was doubtful if any would recognize him as she had; and if she should hold her pe
re might be remaining in him? What did she know of his temptations? of the chain of circumstances which had dragged him down into the company of the desperately criminal? Some such compelling influence there must have been, she reasoned
and straightforward thing to do was to go immediately to the captain and tell him of her discovery, but she shrank from the thought of what must follow. They would seize him: he
resident Galbraith, giving such a description of the deck-hand as would enable the officers to identify him without
write to Mr. Galbraith until after we reached home-until I had told papa. I
been given time to make its claim paramount to that of the conventional pro
ar," she said. "I've been thinking it over, too. But it
d. Nevertheless, she went away quickly and locked herself in her state room to write the fateful lett