The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1867-10-26
UNDER THE LAMPS AT
SCARBOROUGH
1CORtiRMed.l ]

UNDER THE LAMPS AT
SCARBOROUGH.
Continued.
"'Tis jolly up here, isn'titi Enough
to make man wish life was all seaside
and sunshine"
lay on top of the Castle Cliff with a
cigar in my mouth, and my friend Char
lie Ferrars was perched ON the turf
beside me, holding his chin in his hands,
and looking. TO say the truth, rather
discontentcd than otherwise. Why he
did so, did not know. Below us there
was the sea, sleeping in a golden haze,
ont of which the sails shone like little
immOvable white dots in the distance.
There was not a cloud in the sky, and
the sound of the waves, if indeed it
reached us at all, reached us, as Lady
Nugent said, "dimly."
o, those waves the delight of the
sun glancing gold upon them; the pleas
ure of the walk to the North Cliff, down
the wooden steps and among the sand
to the machines; the fOrlorn grandeur
of being, the white rolls of foam lashing
themselves against the wheels of your
machine till it trembles again, and only
the great waste of waters glittering
before your open door; then the plunge
that puts life into you, and makes you
feel as ifyou had no body to speak Of
that is, until breakfast time!
But could not be poetical about all
this to Charlie Ferrars up OH the Castle
Cliff, where we had met by the merest
chance, and where he appeared to me to
be doing anything but enjoying himself;
| could not, for the life of me, tell why"
''They say man pitched himself over
here the other day." said Charlie sud
denly.
'Did hei" said l, Poor beggar! In
debt, perhaps"
Charlie took his chin out of his hands,
and replied gloomily, "There are other
things that may make man desperate.
But what do you know about debt,
lucky chap like youl"
| Something in his tone made me raise
myself on one elbow to look at him, but
he had turned his face away. If / had
known then what was the matter with
him, think should have put my arms
round his neck and hugged him; but
did not know, and so blundered.
"Charlie, old boy, there's something
wrong,n said /. "Tve more money than
| know what to do with; it wonld be a
charity"
He broke into constrained sort of q
laugh.
Thanks Bob" said he Ggrieve to say
that my old school-chums will call me
Bob); "but it is not that. Sometimes
wish it was. However, never mind
It's odd we didn't meet before isn't it 2"
"Well, YES" said L. "But, you see, the
Nugents are here, and my aunt likes at
tertion, and I've been with them good
deal. We steamed over to Riley the
other day. BY the by, you know them,
don't your
"A little" he replied.
ga good thought, by Jove, said |. ''Pll
take you to call to-day"
"My train starts at l-30," was the grim
response. "Thanks all the same. !
came down for few days on busines;
can't spare any more time; and mustn't
stay dawdiing here any longer, either;
so good by, old fellow. Meet you in town
some time"
/ shook hands indifferently enough,
and after he was gone | reproached my
self for it. But then was pre-oceupied,
and impatient of anything that dis
turbed me. The world has changed with
me since the evening / leaned over the
sea-wall and wondered what had come
to Scarborough for. The train of thought
that had been disturbed then by q stu
pid little tOy-terrier seemed very far
back in the past now, very absurd and
impossible, altogethr not worth remem-
bering.
don't think my aunt and Cecile
knew wi y was so punctual at the
evening of the promenade, nor why, az
a certain moment, my attention would
wander in spite of myself, and my step
involuntarily turn in one direction. 1t
was no harm; only wanted to see her;
so said to myself There can be moth
ing wrong in looking at beautiful pic
ture; and she could never be anything
more to me, since l was not already ap-
propriatedR
The sentence was very bitter to me
now; had lost all my passive submis-
sion to my fate. At times, indeed, the
elements of strong rebellion rose up
within me, and l said to myself that l
would be free; and the next moment
there would come the consciousness of
Lady Nugent's voice in my ear and paw
| tiguratively upon my shoulder. Mean
time, l only wanted to see her, to be
from time to time little nearer to this
beautiful, unpainted picture, which
there was no harm in looking at, which
| saw in my dreams, and when l awoke
from them, which never utterly lost,
even when Lady Nugent and my cousin
were with me. Who was shei Where
did she come 'front.' Were her friends
rich hardly know why; but thought
not; rather preferred that they should
not be. And yet, after all, what could
it matter to me!
This was how came back with a
sigh to the actual position of affairs-to
find myself turning unwillingly, from
the open promenade into the Spa Con-
cert and Lady Nugent. dare say the
said it was. only knew that / had
not the least idea what it IVES all about,
and that when everybody was waiting
in intense expectation for the appear
ance Of the great star of the evening, it
suddenly struck me, with sharp pang,
Suppose they are gone away altogeth-
erw
l looked at Lady Nugent; she was
calm and pale, waiting; so was Cecile;
so was everybody-waiting as though
life depended upon a few shakes and
trills, and runs half note higher than
any reasonable voice could go. How
hot l was!-how suddenly impressed
with the nothingness and inconsequence
of the whole affair." Nv picture my
precious, unpainted portrait! if that
slipped away from me, saw, as / had
never seen before, how terrible blank
it would leave behind.
"'Tis close here" l said to Cecile,
"awfally close. wonder how You bear
it,"
"Isiti" she said. "Perhaps SO; but
hush, Robert, she is coming on"
Excuse me for five minutes" l whis-
pered; "my head aches"
Cecile just looked at me, raised her
eyebrows in wonder at my want Of taste.
4 4 ~ .