The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1876-07-22

bed-both which forms of entertainment are
offered him by Vanvoerst, who appears at
intervals; finally, after nearly noddng his
head Oft, becomes unconscious for a brief
space. Waking up, he finds that it is half an
hour past midnight, and that some of the peo-
pie are beginning to drive off. Still, he lights
another cigar, and leans against one of the
pillars of the piazza, smoking and waiting for
Mrs. Mackenzie.
Is it by accident or design that when that
siren comes innocently out on the piazza
alone, and apparently only for fresh air-the
'die-hards" inside are dancing wild galop
which always makes Blake think of certain
spring night in dull little Pennsylvania
town some three years ago? Whether it is
an accidental or intentional coincidence, GER
tainly Blake is rather taken at disadvantage
when some one says, Il was thinking of YOU,
Mr.. Blake' and he turns to find close beside
him the face that made that spring night me-
morable.
81 was thinking Of you, Mr.. Blake. Don't
you remember that music? Come let us
walk down here-I want to talk to you.''
They walk to the end of the piazza, and
stand there silent for moment, listening to
the music, which, sentiment apart, sounds
better at this distance Then suddenly she
puts her hand on his arm and says:
''What did you come here for?'
Because l was asked" says our young
man stoutly, but with his heart in his mouth !;
but she goes on without seeming to hear him.
"Why, when l am trying to change my
life-when L have some chance OF turn, and
some chance of making some one happy, and
doing little good-why must it all be spoiled,
and I-disgraced? Tom, you used to like
me a little. Please-please let me alone"
Her great eyes are pleading for her; the
touch of her hand on his arm is gentle Pc
tition.
'sMy dear Mrs. Mackenzie, how under
heaven can I interfere with you? What
have 1 done?'
"Done! You have told--or you will tell
these people everything! And that old man
really loves me-ah, dear Tom. don't laugh
there is something good left in me-he has
asked me to marry him, and now you will
ruin me'
"But what the deuce can tell about you ?'
cries the bewildered young man. ''See here
these people asked me if knew you, and 1
told them just this-that you used TO be
Laura Mabury; that you used to firt; that 1
had forgotten what your married name was,
and didn't even know until tonight that
your husband was dead. That's all.''
''That my-husband was-dead," she re-
peats, looking closely at him. ''Did you tell
them that?"
"They told me rather-I never knew it till
tonight. You were living at Washington
last time heard anything Of you.'
"And didn't you hear-didn't Kenneth or
any one write you about Lieutenant Macken-
zie?"
kenneth wrote-ages ago-that you were
not-not living together"
Divorced, you mean"-with sudden re-
lapse into hardness of face and manner, and
in perfectly quiet, unexcited voice.
"No. by Jove! he didn't say that. Whatr'
suspicion breaking sharply on him; do you
mean that Mackenzie isn't"
All the calm manner disappears, and again
her pleading eyes are dangerously near his
face, and with her strong, white, handsome
hands she seizes his. "Tom-dear old boy
don't betray me. No''-in hurried, low
voice, and looking anxiously aroupd-"no-
he is not dead. He struck me-the villain
got divorce. Oh, Tom, he was a very
bad mamie drank and he gambled; he was
everything that was bad. Why. they dis
missed him from the navy. Yes, we were
divorced-but he isn't dead. My God! l
wish l was. Please, Tom, don't tell them.
| | did not tell Mr.. Vanvoorst at first, and now
L dare not. Oh, Tom, promise me-you
| used to like me, aud always-yes, did
| always l-lliked you. Don't do me such a
bad turn now! For heavens sake, promise
MEL
But he will have to know it sometime.
You can't keep such thing quiet.''
"Yes, yes-I know. But oh, Tom, give
me chance! I'll tell him myself. Promise
me-please promise me that you'll say moth
| ing about it,
The young man stands scowling, angry
| with himself at the position he finds himself
| in. His mission to the Vanvoorsts would be
| accomplished successfully should he use
| against Mrs. Mackenzie the weapon which
| she herself has put into his hands. But
| apart from her appeal for silence, every in
| stinct in the man protests against this betray-
| al of a condolences confidence made in
| him by woman, and that woman one whom
and that not very clearly defined, on the one
hand, and honor, inclination, and a very
handsome woman on the other, he is not
| long in coming to a conclusion. "Why
| should I interfere? Make yourself entirely
| easy-I promise"
| The victorious lady thanks him with an eff
fusiveness which it would be sacrilege to de-
| scribe were description possible, and then
| they resume their walk. 1t becomes evident
that the elderly lover had disappeared for the
night, and that Mrs. Mackenzie, being of
duty, has no objection to exchanging few
| refreshing condolences with her old friend,
| whom she has always found amusing, though
| Improbable. She drops tragedy, aud as
sumes the old, sweety confidential manner.
| 'And what has Mr.. Blake been doing with
himself all these years? ?"
| 'Mr. Blake has been doing great many
things, and all very bad"
eyes, poor boy; goodness wasn't much in
| your line when used to know you, and one
doesn't improve with age-does one?"
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