The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1876-05-19
FOR THE LAST TIME.
TCoNCLUDED1

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The room up stairs was scrupulously
clean and bare The only ornaments Of
the whitewashed walls were q brass
crucix and cup ior holding holy
wat r., but the table and wooden benches
were spotless, and cool breeze came in
at the one small window. Their ride had
given them an appetite, and they did full
Justice to the provisions that an extended
experience of Campagna inns had in
duced Jack to send down the day before
"As though you had been sure OF my
coming with you'll" said Eleanor, hall
pleased and half provoked at the atten.
ton.
Jack laughed. "Do you imagine /
could not ride down to Ostia without the
protectios of your escort?" he said teas
ingly. II am sure 1 could have found
some one to take pity on me, had You
been unkind enough not to come"
The words in themselves were nothing
but the mere fact that he could speak
jestingly of her gave Eleanor curious
feeling OF blank surprise. He had accept.
ed the situation, and she instantly resent
ed his having done so; she felt injured
that having once offered her his love he
should so soon have become resigned to
her rejection of it. With an odd, femi-
nine Inconsistency, the irmer she had
been in her refusal of him the more she
had secretly glorled in what she had
imagined to be the strength of his pas
sion. There had been bitter.sweet sat
isfaction to her in the sacrifice of such a
devotion on the altar Of her worldly ad-
vancement. 1t had been sort of test in
her eyes, for she had argued with herself,
If / can give up such love as this so cas-
silly, surely my future life promises me
only pleasure. What is there left for me
10 renounce, after this2 Ignoring her
own insistence on the fact that all allu
sions to old times were to be banished
from their conversation, she tried to lead
Desmond into vein OF half-tender, half
cynical remembrance, and see if even yet
she had not the power of awakening the
dormant fires of passion she had held
but lightly while it was still hers. In
other words, she was a woman, and could
pardon her old lover anything-except
his forgiving her. |'# f ID.
allow long it seems since | have spent
day out of Romel" she said. "The last
time was at Porto d. Anzio. DO you re-
member the day we were there, Mr.. Des-
mond2 l have never forgotten it. l
can shut my eyes now and hear quite
plainly again the wash of the wave on
the beach. Do you remember the moon
light on the water, coming back2' she
went on dreamily; land
"How near to the stars we seemed that
night,
We two, on the sands by the sea'?"
Her voice had sunk almost to . whisper
her cheek was resting on her hand, she
seemed looking far back into the past
with those sweet, wlstful eyes. Desmond
glanced at her moment, bis face turned
very pale, and his hand clenched hard
under the table; but his voice was calm
and he smiled quietly as he answered.
~ remember quite well; pretty little
place, that Porto d. Anzio is! BY the
way, it's curious thing, do you know,
to see with what an instructive sense OF
the appropriate people always quote
Owen Meredith when they speak OF dead
and.gone firtations. The Flirts own
Laureate he should be called. There is
about as much sham strength and false
sentiment in the one as in the other,
suppose" he added, with reflective air
"Really, l cannot say; am not good at
literary discussions" answered Eleanor,
coldly. 81 am not in the habit of dlssect
ing the things which please me. This
room is really getting TO be very hot and
disagreeable; shall we go2
The wind had changed, and the blue
April sky was hidden by a gray veil OF
sirocco clouds.
snow, Miss Hardy" said Desmond,
aOstia is ell before you where to choose.
About mile down that road is wood OF
Castel Fusano; that pile Of earth and
stones you see there is the entrance to
the excavations. What it your choice,
sunshine or silence? viii you spend an
hour under the pines, like an irresponsi-
BILE Bohemian; or shall we improve our
minds and do the ruins, like conscien-
iious tourists? BY the way, did you re.
member to bring your conscience with
your
"No; left it in Rome with my aunt
for safe keeping" said Eleanor, demure
ly sAnd As for your ruins, Mr.. Desmond,
you may visit them alone, you please
There are better things to do with q
spring day than to spend it in hole un.
der ground, like an invalid rabbit
They turned down the quiet, grassy
lane that leads TO Csstel Fusano. On
either hand stretched long reaches a
pasture land now turned to Fields of thu
Cloth OF Gold by the blrze Of yellow
marsh flowers that hid the grass. A ten
der, half-pathetic color br, oded over the
landscape; even the stately old pine:
seemed 10 bend their proud heads TO the
b-erze and murmur haif-forgotten words
to the lullaby of the spring wind.
sHow love pine treesT said Eleanor
ito enjoy them fully one should not looi
at them, but lie with ones face to thu
grass and only hear their grand old chan
overhead" b. artir
"The pines of Ostia have song al
| their own" remarked JACK. GU
know all this ground about here was tn,
open sea in the time of the Romans.
always think the trees remember tn
dash Of the waves, and TO me their sons
is like the breaking of the surf far ava!
on the shsre"
look at my daisies" said Elsanori &
am afraid il is going TO rsin.' The Grim
son aud white petals Of the flowers sh
held were closing fast
aDe you know that the Campagna dsi
sies look like the Roman girkf' aske'
Jack. uSee how different they are from
the little English daisy, OF the delicat
rose-and white poquerette of France. Il
spite of their white petals these are not
SIonae fever. They have holder looi
| 4 deeper dash OF red, straigbter, tale
stem. and that same calmly-scfutinizins
wide-eyed unabashed gaze You see in th
L