C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

“ Louis corrected her. His aunt's way of glossing everything over and shutting her eyes to realities annoyed him intensely in some moods, though in others he would beg her to say that Mary loved him, whether she really believed it or not.
“Ah, well, your not being strong gives you that interesting look which draws women's eyes wherever you go,” Madame consoled her favorite firmly. “You are a thousand times more attractive than your friend Shelby, who is such an athlete.” ”

“ Shelby did not wait to discuss the subject further; he stalked through the hall into the rose-garden, and took that way to the arbor because it was the path farthest from Madame's boudoir window.
He did not mean to ask Mary to marry him. For a singularly successful and popular young man, he was almost stupidly modest. He couldn't write plays and Operas, or sing like an angel, or paint pictures or make statues and speak several languages, as half the men of Mary's acquaintance could. He thought of himself as rather a lump of a fellow, with none of the admirable Louis Delenski's fascinations ”

“ Madame Montalban pleaded. “If you knew what I have done for you!”
“What have you done?”
“Why, my Louis is forever worrying lest la petite thinks more of Shelby than of him. Though I do not agree, I have done my best to make things secure. He is often here, as you know. The last time he came, I got him to go with me to look at my roses. He was bored, but what did that matter? I spoke as if there were an understanding between Mary and you. Of course I did not put it into words. Women know how to do these things!” ”

“ Mary had felt it her duty to write about the emeralds, and Madame had replied joyously. She and Jean would never cease to hope, she said, that Louis was alive. “Of course this wonderful sign of his living love will prevent your thinking again of marriage with another man,” she had added. And now, not only was Mary thinking of it again; she had decided upon the step. It was only the insistent urging of conscience which forced the girl to inform Jean and Madame Montalban that she intended to marry Don Shelby without delay. ”

“ She had remembered the other parcel, almost the mate of this, which she herself—to her deep regret—had sent out by the postman to Mary in the garden at Beaulieu. Mary had made no secret what that parcel held, or what it had meant for her. Sister Grayle knew the whole truth, and she sympathized with Don—a man after her own heart. She had turned sick at sight of the trim parcel arriving on Mary's wedding-day. “Too horrible, if it's to begin all over again!” she said to herself. “There's some awful mystery—a cruel mystery. I don't believe Delenski's alive.” ”

“ He felt that death would be doubly death—death to his soul as well as body—if you married his friend when he was underground. He wrote two letters, on common paper, and put no date. He designed a bracelet and a brooch. They were to be made by a man who owed his fame as a jeweler to me in the days of my prime. He would do anything on earth for one of our family.
“The bracelet and the first letter were to be sent by my sister to you, if news ever came of your engagement. And for realism, Louis gave her the salamander seal which he thought you had seen. ”

“ Don, if Louis knew, he would want to hold me, I'm sure. But he mustn't know. He's not strong, as you are; yet he too is going to the front. I think it would kill Louis if I asked him to give me up. I couldn't do it. I simply could not!”
It was those words of Mary's that Louis caught as he came back to her with the news that his aunt would follow presently. Neither of the two under the tree heard or saw him. They were completely absorbed in one another, deaf and blind to everything outside. ”

“ She must think for an instant. She must pray. But suddenly two strong hands lifted her up by the shoulders and set her in a chair. Don Shelby had pushed wide open the door Sister Grayle had left ajar, and had come in.
She saw, by a wild glance at his face, that he had seen what lay on the dressing-table—and the bottle of chloral which was now in plain sight. But though he had snatched her up from her knees, to get her out of his way, he seemed no longer conscious that she was in the room.
“Mary!” he called. “Louis sha'n't take you. You can't be dead. You shall not be dead! ”

“ She did expect Louis, and would not be wholly sorry to see him. She was fond of Louis in a way, and she wanted to hear his news. So she flung aside what was left of the marguerite and put Don Shelby out of her mind—for several minutes.
MEANWHILE, in the house, Louis Delenski was talking of her with his aunt, Madame Montalban.
“Dear boy,” said Madame in the exquisite Parisian French which Mary O'Farrell was learning from her, “la petite is in the arbor. I have arranged that for you. When she sees you in your beautiful uniform, how can she resist? You look more romantic than romance itself!” ”

“ Some day you will have the explanation, and we shall meet, not to part again. Meanwhile I send you a brooch instead of one which I once begged you not to wear. Remember, my friends used to laugh and say I had “emerald eyes.” This eye of emerald will watch over your love, and bring you happiness while you keep faith with me. It bids you be ready to welcome back, soon or late, your lover-husband,
Louis Delenski
Instantly Sister Grayle guessed that rather than be wife to two living men, Mary had chosen to die, on this her second wedding-day. ”

“ Jean Delenski and Madame Montalban were sick with dread, and Mary's whole energy was needed to help them bear the suspense. A thousand small things might have prevented his writing, she said. But when an official telegram announced that Lieutenant Louis Delenski, of the cuirassiers, had fallen gloriously on the field of battle, both secretly blamed the girl because something within had not warned her, as their love had warned them. Mary did not try to defend herself. She too had felt the same cold weight of presentiment—had felt it since the day of her engagement to Louis ”

“ Sister Grayle answered in an odd tone. “I hope no bad news. I mean—there's nothing to worry about. Now I must run. I've lots to do, and I want it to be done quickly, so I can see you married. I love you, dear! We've all learned to love you. There isn't one of us wouldn't stick our hands in the fire to make you happy!”
Mary wondered a little at the other's manner, but forgot it and her in a moment, as she read Don's letter.
As the nurse went downstairs, she cast a furtive glance at a small parcel pushed under a table on the landing below Mary's room. ”

“ Yes, with special influence, a marriage could be solemnized at a few days' notice. In days of war, one did not postpone happiness to some indefinite date in the future. Ah, but what a pity that Monsieur Shelby could not hope to be present! He must send good thoughts and wishes to his friends, as they would to him.
SOON after Don had made his adieus and departed, Mary found an excuse to leave Louis and his aunt together in the arbor, instead of Madame's leaving them, as she meant to do. “Stay with Louis,” the girl said, desperately desiring to be free of them both, if only for a little while. ”

“ She believed that Louis Delenski must be alive and, for some mysterious reason, in hiding. Twice, and only twice (Mary reminded Sister Grayle) , he had made a sign. Once he had intervened to save his wife from engaging herself to Don Shelby, and again to prevent her going through the tragic farce of marriage. But Sister Grayle sent a long telegram to Don Shelby at a hotel where (Mary had told her) he stayed when in Paris. “Mary much worse. We fear she may be going from us. Come soon if only to say good-by. She may regain full consciousness toward the last and ask for you.” ”

“ The EMERALDS
By
C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON
ILLUSTRATED BY ROBERT MCCAIG
“HE loves me—he loves me not—passionately—not at all.”
That was the last leaf of the marguerite; and it was just what Mary O'Farrell had expected. It always came like that—either “he loves me not,” or “not at all,” whenever she asked a flower for the truth about Don Shelby. The girl was growing superstitious, because the thing confirmed her secret fear. A dozen other men cared, and told her too often that they cared; but—not a look, not a word, from Don Shelby! ”

“ She told me the whole story—and how she had sent a second parcel, a second letter. For a little while I let myself be seized by the drama of the tale. The plan was Louis'. I meant to let it stand. But Shelby came, and you had taken chloral rather than live be the wife of two men. He said you were dying. So we both—confessed. And I am here. Will you try to live—and forgive us?”
MARY lived. And for her to live and not forgive would be impossible. She and her “Ace” adore each other, in a way those who have never been parted cannot know. ”

“ She believed that Fate had taken her by the hand and made her hide the parcel.
“It will always be thought that I dropped it by accident. I'll never tell Mary the truth, whatever happens,” she reflected. “I hope to goodness the wicked thing wont be found till after she's married and gone with her husband. Anyhow, I've done my best by Don Shelby, whether he thanks me or not!”
THE wedding was in a church not far from the hospital, and the bride and bridegroom returned for a pathetic reception to be given in their honor by doctors and nurses, wounded soldiers being the only guests. ”

“ Meanwhile Don set himself to tracing the parcel and its contents. The letter was written on common paper, such as soldiers use at the front. There was no jeweler's name on the green leather case. Advertisements with offers of large reward failed to produce the design or maker of the bracelet; but the postmark on the packet was Paris, and inquiries brought to light the fact that an old woman had registered it. The man who had written out the receipt could not describe the woman except that she was poorly dressed and might have been a small shopkeeper. ”

“ If, by wonderful good fortune, she listened with kindness, then he would go further. He would say that if he came back safe and sound at the end of the war, not crippled or disfigured, he would ask her to marry him. ”

“ The names of Mary O'Farrell Delenski and Donald Shelby, the American Ace, were well known, and the paragraph was not only copied but enlarged. Fate had taken the matter out of Mary's hands; and so she wrote to Jean and the Comtesse Montalban, explaining the circumstances. No answer came to her letter, and she was grieved, for she had loved “le grand maître” and felt an affection for his sister. Don's love made up for everything, however ”