The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1877-08-01
she pleaded for Jim who had ignored

"Get up, you silly child" commanded
herf beautiful mistress sternly; "does
Mr.. Chariot know of your presence
here?"
"No, madame" answered Ninon
humbly as she rose; "but you will tell
him to-day, will you not-to-day when
you meet him by the sea @
Certainly, if you desire it, Ninon," J"
responded Mrs. Kenwick smiling. "And
now bring me my wraps, I hear him
asking for me in the hall below"
Presently the maid returned bringing
a shawl of some misty, pale-rose fabric
that she wound in oriental fashion about
the royalty graceful form of her mis-
tress, who Immediately went down to
meet Antoine Chariot.
He was q handsome man of that dark,
fascinating sort of beauty occasionally
seen in old Spanish portraits. In form,
feature and bearing, he was at once
grave and poetic, fastidious, passionate
and well-bred.
"Ah, NJ. Chariot so early?" observ-
ed Camilla, giving him her delicate, rosy
finger tips. H.. -.
"How could I be late,," he responded
in the purest English, "when I enjoy
so much our hours by the sweet, sweet
sea. Will you come down to the beach
with me ? The sunset is charming"
She smiled rs she went with him, but
her heart was heavy and fearful in her
bosom. She was nervously apprchensive
of the denOucment of her summer pas
time.
"Not there, Camilla" said her adj
mirer as she would have drawn him
among the ranks of .promenaders, " but
here, in this sweet green nook, for have
something to say to you.
He seated her on messy boulder in
the shadow of a steep cliff grown thickly
over with sweet briar and pink wild
roses.
"I can guess what it is, my friend, !"
she replied serenely, but with keen in.
ward thrill that was half pain and half
vanity; "you have heard something of
the tableaux we are to have in honor OF
my husbands s coming. You wish to help
me-you are very kind"
Your husband, Camilla p he cried !;
"who but who love you can ever be
that ?"
"Surely you should have known am
married." responded the woman, her
heart heavy with dread, her cheeks blaz-
ing, as she held forth one dainty hand on
which glittered her wedding-ring.
For moment-one ominous moment
--he gazed at her steadily, searchingly,
and then his reproaches burst forth in
hurricane of fierce, scathing words.
"I see how it is, "he exclaimed; "you
have made me your dupe-my love the
toy of your idleness and amusement.
The stain of murder is on your fair, false
hands, and all the waters of yonder sea
can never wash it away. To wish you
future happiness would be a mockery
and blasphemy. Farewell !"
He dashed up the cliff with madness
on his ivid visage. ,-.-
She heard him crashing through the
thorny wild rose-bushes, then above the
plash of the sunset sea, she heard dull,
plunging sound and a great agonized
cry.
There was brief confusion among the
promenaders on the silvery beach, there
were inquiries and unsatisfactory explain
ations, and q futile attempt at rescue.
In vain! The hungry undertow mnst
have borne away its prey.
And winter than the face of the drowned
could ever be, were the cheeks of Mrs.
Camilla Kenwick rs she went back alone
to Wild Rose Villa.
She called Nmon and told her Of what
had happened.
"Don't touch me-" cried the girl,
aghast; "there is blood on your hands,
madame"
That night her maid could not be
found, and the next morning Ralph Ken
wick came.
Camilla was alone in her room-her
attitude that of utter misery-her eyes
fixed mournfully on the sea. What was
in her heart only Heaven could know.
"She is grieving over our quarrel"
thought her husband, with q thrill
of tenderest lity. "Dear soul! [ was a
wretch to talk to her as I did. Camilla!"
She turned her beautiful head toward
him with dreary movement, and her
piteous, unsmiling face seemed aged and
haggard.
"You have come," she said in slow
and bitter tones; "you have come, I
suppose, to tell me that you have ar
ranged everything for our final separa-
ton. Have you found your month of
freedom 80 sweet2"
"Heaven forbid, my dear wife!" he
answered, earnestly. "What you are
pleased to call month of freedom
has been month of wretched loneliness
and remorse for the hasty, angry words
that hurt you so, and that never meant.
And, Camilla, I should sooner contem-
plate suicide than final separation
from you. Both are impossible, what
ever I may have said.
The fair woman shuddered, remember
ing him who lay in his suicidal sleep be-
meath the smiling summers sea.
You said that you had ceased to
love me; that you were glad to get me
out of your sight, and you hoped it
might be forever" she said, emphasizing
every word. "Is it possible man and
gentleman cnn say anything SO cruel un-
leSS uG lueQuS ~ IL WOllu Uc 1dI ulOlo
merciful, Ralph, for you to steadfastly
abide by those words now. than to per-
suade me to forget and forgive them,
and then just as I begin to believe anew
in your love and kindness, to repeat
them On the first trivial occasion. had
rather have small steadfast love upon
which can cling and rely, than a hot
stormy passion that brings one day q
surfeit of caresses and the next q tornado
of senseless vituperat. w." 2
Ralph Kenwick flushed painfully and
guiltily. His hot, hasty temper had been
his bane always, and none knew it better
than he.
"My dear wife, he pleaded humbly ;
eff you will trust me again I will try to
conquer this fault that has made our
welded life SO unhappy. I can't be a
saint all at once; but I think if you will
be patient with me, my darling, I may
be worthy of you after a time. Will you
not come to me again, and be once more
my own Living, forbearing wife?"
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