Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

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104 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE t "You are all to the merry," said the Captain, grasping his hand. * ' I know all about you. Now, this is how it is. Stephanie's grandfather left a property in trust to her father for her, the mother to enjoy the income for life, but it was to be Stephanie's at her mother's death. The mother died four years ago, when Stephanie was not of age, so her father had the income to spend until then. He has been having the time of his life aboard this yacht — and all out of Stephie's money — but she was near twenty-one, and things were looking dark for her dad, until this French Count came along with a scheme. When they brought Stephie aboard, sick, at New York, the Count was very sweet to her below and gay with the little cousin on deck. It was none of my business, tho I have known Stephie's mother all my life, and her since she was a baby. She got better when we came thru the straits, and wanted to go ashore, so we put in here, and the Count took the party on a coach up to his castle. I was given orders to keep under easy steam all the time and to stand a close guard over the safe — I believe they have all Stephie's securities there — but I was not suspicious until this morning, when the little cousin came back. She begged me to cable you or appeal to the American consul. The game was to marry Stephanie to the Count. A woman who weds a Frenchman in his own country loses control of her property. "When is she of age?" Trevor "Today!" the Captain blurted out. "The banns are published. I may be going too far to tell you that Stephanie gave her consent to please her father, possibly because she received no reply to the cable messages she sent you, but she saw the ghost. ' ' "The ghost!" Trevor exclaimed absently — he winced at the reference to cable messages, for he had left no address behind. "Count Sombra pointed out the haunted grotto," said the Captain, "and told the story of a spirit who could not leave the earth because she had committed suicide, but nobody paid attention to that at first. It is a hair-raising story, but perhaps I am going too far. Come aft and rest there while I attend to my own business. I will leave the rest to Stephie." The afternoon waned, and the sun went down in glory, where they were heading, while Trevor sat beneath an awning on the after-deck and swiftly reviewed the series of events that had restored his lost love. The stars were peeping out over far Sahara when he heard a voice that thrilled every nerve in his being, and felt the soft pressure of fond lips on his hair. Stephanie had come. Her color was magically restored when she sat down by him and nestled within his arms. They sat there with cheeks touching., while she told him how sad and sore she had been at receiving no word in reply to her messages, and how she had grown weaker instead of stronger from the administration of medicine, until she had no will of her own to resist her father's influence. The cool breeze sweeping in from the direction of their course tossed wisps of her hair in his eyes the while, but did not blind him to her tender beauty — she who was sister to the rose, yet so fair — nor to those passion-depths in her drowsy eyes that had so powerfully stirred him from the first moment they looked into each other's souls. Above far Sahara, where the Sphynx looked out on a waving ocean of sand, a pale star suddenly flared, then dimmed. "The lost spirit!" Stephanie murmured. "When she came to me I could see her as plainly as I do you — almost. She was beautiful Lady Grimaldi, who married for rank, discarding her sculptor-lover — he who carved the ancient baptismal font at Vence Cathedral — only to sorrow in her exalted state. Her Lord murdered the lover at Castle Sombra and threw his body from the tower. My Lady leaped after the one she loved and fell lifeless near the grotto. She told