Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

THE CHANCE SHOT 107 ence sprang forward and thrust a handful of bills into the man's eager fingers. "Go, quickly," she breathed, "and as you hope for Heaven 's mercy in the end, have mercy upon me and let me alone now. ' ' Without a word, he vanished into the brush again, and Florence steadied her voice to call out cheerfully, "I'm just here by the gate, Michael; I'm all right." ' ' Excuse me, ma'am, ' ' said the servant, coming up anxiously, "but Mr. Owen told us to watch you today — he was so afraid you might be frightened again." "He loves me so," moaned the girl, softly, as she went swiftly up the path and fled to the seclusion of her own room; "he loves me so — and I love him ! Oh, why did I marry him — what shall I do— can I tell him — what would he say? Oh, Owen, my husband! I was so happy!" When she came from her room, in the dusk of the evening, Owen and George were just returning from the hunt, empty-handed. In her light raillery at their expense, George detected no false note, but Owen followed her with anxious eyes, as the evening wore on, and she wandered restlessly about the rooms, chattering ceaselessly of the day's events. "You are nervous and tired, dear," Owen said. " I am afraid that fright you got this morning was serious. ' ' "No," she assured him hastily, "but I had a headache afterwards, and have been lying down all day; I am all right now. ' ' If the glorious autumn weather had not continued, luring the men daily to the hills in quest of game, Owen would have noticed the change in his wife's face and manner, as the days went by. But she was always bright when he returned, always full of merry laughter and jokes about his lack of skill with his gun, and he failed to see how the dark eyes filled with terror and the slender form quivered with quick dread at the sound of a strange footfall or the note of a strange voice. He never dreamed that while he trod the mountains with happy, care-free heart, Florence was enduring such days of terror and anguish as only a fond, tenderhearted woman can know. "You surely are the worst shot I ever saw," declared George as they approached the house one evening. ' ' I dont believe you could hit a barn door at twenty-five yards ! ' ' "I'll bet a box of cigars that I can hit a bull's-eye in the middle of a barn door, at that distance," retorted Owen, with mock indignation. "Done! Come on around to the barn right now, and try it." "But I haven't seen Florence yet," demurred Owen. ' ' Nonsense — you 're trying to crawl. You can wait a few minutes to see Florence — besides, think how proud you'll be to tell her you hit something, if it 's only a barn door ! ' ' "All right. See that big knot-hole in the center of the door ? Just watch me hit it. ' ' He raised his gun, took careful aim, and — to his own astonishment, no less than George's — he sent a bullet directly thru the mark. ' ' There ! " he exclaimed gleefully, "poke fun at me again, will you?" "It was a chance shot," declared George ; ' ' luck and not science — but it was a daisy ! ' ' Laughing at his luck, Owen ran into the house, wondering why Florence did not come to meet him as usual. The place seemed strangely quiet, and he ran up the steps to his wife's room, with an unaccountable fear tugging at his heart. "I'm getting as fussy and nervous as an old woman, ' ' he told himself, as he tapped at the door, but there was something in the smothered "Come in" which answered his rap that set his heart to beating more rapidly as he hastily entered the room. Inside, he paused in astonishment, for Florence stood in the center of the room, facing him, with a look of such pain and terror upon her face that he paused for an instant, in speechless dismay, (Continued on page 154.)