Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

58 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE. one step forward, the poor knife upraised, but two servants sprang forward and overpowered him in an instant. Laughing lightly, the men lifted the screaming girl into the carriage, which rolled quickly thru the gates, up the driveway to the great stone chateau, leaving a crazed, desperate lad beating the gates with impotent frenzy. A week later, the peasant maiden lay upon a miserable cot in an upper chamber of the servants' quarters. It was hard to recognize in this girl, with the white, drawn face, ragged hair and wildly rolling eyes, the fresh, rosy beauty who, only a week before, had talked so blithely of love and happiness. A grave-faced man sat by the cot, his hand clasping her fevered ones. It was Dr. Manette, and his touch seemed to quiet a delirium which broke forth frequently in shrill cries of "My husband, my husband, come to me \» One of these paroxysms had just passed, and the girl lay in a halfstupor, when the door opened, and a woman entered. A tiny boy, about five years of age, with wide brown eyes and a sunny, fearless expression, clung to her hand. Moving cautiously, to make no sound, she crossed the room and fell upon her knees, lifting to the doctor a face full of compassion, sweetness and deep trouble. "Will she die?" she whispered, breathlessly. "Cannot you save her?" "She will die?" replied the doctor, gently ; "she will never regain consciousness, and it is better so." "Oh, it is awful, awful !" shuddered the woman. "All the week I have tried to come to you here, but the Marquis was always watching. Tell me, do you know who the girl is, of what family she comes?" The doctor shook his head, slowly, his face anxious and troubled. "I have sat by this bed five days," he said, "but not once has she seemed conscious of my presence. The lad, her brother, was dying when I arrived. Tell me what you know, and I will try to rind the girl's family." "My husband's brother, this boy's father, brought the girl here a week asx), for his own shameful pleasure," replied the woman. "I saw him, assisted by my husband, lift her from the carriage and carry her Lalf-fainting, up the stairs. Next day, her brother broke into the grounds ano attacked my husband's brother. In the brief fight that followed, the poor peasant was mortally wounded." She stopped, weeping bitterly, and the doctor waited. "This child," she resumed, drawing the boy close to her, "must inherit the estates, but I pray God that he will not suffer the penalty for these awful deeds. Kneel here, Charles, and swear not to follow the example your father has set, and that you will right the wrongs of the poor oppressed tenants of this land." "I swear, and I promise to help the poor people," said the child, kneeling by the miserable cot, his sunny face clouded by the half-understood tragedy. A panel at the end of the room opened. An angry face peered in. They did not see it, but the woman's face paled. "If we should be heard," she gasped, and taking the boy by the hand, led him quickly from the room. No sooner had the door closed behind them than the two brothers entered the room. "So that is over," observed the elder, coolly, glancing at the lifeless form on the cot. "Doctor Manette, you have served us well, and your reward shall be ample. You understand that these little matters must be kept quiet, and that is why we stole you — kidnapped you, as it were — to attend this case. I trust your wife has not suffered undue anxiety." The doctor made no reply. "The carriage is waiting to convey you to Paris," continued the speaker. "As a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mindful of your own interest. The things you have seen here are not to be spoken of." Still the doctor made no reply. "Do you honor me with your atten