The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-03-10

eycs-the big beautiful gray eyes-glancc
up at him.
In my vexation | retire from the window.
In my trouble l walk back to it. Both OF
them have forgotten my existence.
DO you know" he goes on, and my ears
are quick, 81 began by meaning to dislike
you 81 did not care for gill who could be
fast enough to row a stranger over the bay
and personate boatman's daughter. Otta-
lie, how did you subdue my prejudices
How did you get the better of me? Are you a
witch?
Mr.. Dame is certainly an odd lover, if he
means it for love, and wooes after fashion
of his own; but Ottalie does not seem to OBJ
ject. As he bends to her the wind stirs hel
pretty hair, and the water comes rolling In
slowly over the sunshiny sand-poor, foolish
Ottalie.
"You are witch, perhaps" he says after
pause. son my life cannot tell. I ONLY
know one thing-l love you."
Greatly and truly do you love me? Real,
and truly?" asks she, childishly twisting hel
fingers together, as she rises to- her feet and
looks up at him.
"Better than lifen' he answers and take:
both the hands in his Dismay had held m,
breath, but call now.
"Ottalier
He hears that and looks round. She goes
and looks out at the murmuring sea. At that
moment the maid comes in with the tea tray
cake and bread and butter. We dine early
on Sundays.
Come in to tea," call out in desperate
hope of putting an end to the folly.
But no; just as though my words wers
wind, they regard them not. Opening the
O Of of dc
l take my tea alone with sinking heart.
How intensely foolish Ottalie is.
The widest imagination could not, l fear
picture Deborah Peyre as a 'spraying woman
OF course go to church; 60 this evening.
have called myself miserable sinner scores
OF times; now I feel am one, or that she is,
or he is, or that we are all sinners together.
get into back pew aud believe I pray. l
try to pray, more earnestly, perhaps, than ]
had ever tried in my life. And after the SER
vice is over go home and wait. I see two
dusky figures pacing the sands together Just
beyond the gate, and fold my hands tightly
and wait.
The gate clicks at last. Ottalie comes in
and stands blinking in the doorway, half daz
zled By the light.
"Will you condescend to tell me bow you
intend to wind up the highly creditabIe farce
you are playing?' cry in helpless rage.
''Wind-it-up." she repeats, the bri ghtness
fading all at once out of her face. Then with
sudden dash of recklessness: 81 don't know,
don't think it's a bad plan, Deb. 7 let my
self drift-drift-drift. 1t is so much ca
sier!' And she laughs strained little laugh
that cannot take the shadow out of her
eyes.
Understand this much," say I; ''if you do
not put an end to this, will.''
She gets as white as her dress, and seizes
my dress.
."No, oh, no! Deborah you are Joking; only
Joking, are not you?" And she drops my
arm, and sinks on her knees beside me.
Am given to jokipg?"
'.But you won't' she repeats. II will-do
what you want-only not now, Deborah, not
now! Let me be happy, please, lust a little
while. Do you grudge me these few DAYS, be.
cause my life has been so happy ?"
am silent. She clasps my arm 10 hasten
my reply.
- Have 1 had so happy life, Deborah %
Heaven knows that she has not-of late
years. But how shall 1 answer. What am j
to do? In one sense of the word l am a,
rest; she has too much rectitude, too much
pride, to give cause for real fear; but-there
are complications. .
Deborah, dear Deborah, won't you prom
ise meT' and her voice breaks, and the firm
white arm creeps up around my neck, as hel
eyes peer into mine. "You will not-tell ?"
How shall answer her? so,
Deborah, dear Deborah" she cries again
putting her lips close to my cheek.
How still the room is as her voice falls
How quiet it is outside-how quiet.
mo-" say shortly; ~ will not tell. unless
that.'' -
After little she gets up and goes toward
the door. follow her, ~
"Ottalie," begin. She stops and looks
over her shoulder, half angrily. half entreat
ingIy; =.
that. You said 1 might be happy-iust
little while. -
"Then," say, bewildered out of my equa
nimty, you will be the first person who was
ever made happy by acting lie." s.!
Ottalle turns scared face upon me, means,
and escapes from the room. --~'s
what culpable woman I ami BribeG
with kiss to promise! But-poor Ottalie
ana what a reckless, miserable mood she il
"Et rioresse, pioresse, pipresse ct Ia
mourE' 81,
Not an exalted sentiment, is it, reader p
and for Sunday night Well, she learnt it il
hard school, this poor Ottalie of mine.
toss and turn my night away. Ottalie,
fancy, does the same. When she sits down
to breakfast her face is pale, her eyes are en-
one another. w.. -
Later, l come into the room again with my
things on, look at her, and wait. '-1 r..
II am not going OUT" she says; so leave
her sitting at the window. If she is happy
she is better actress than l thought--sht
hides it so well. ,.a
For three hours do / poke jelly-fsh with the
end OF my sunshade. But .ielly.fish arr
phlegmatic, and the sun is hot. In the course
OF time 1t becomes monotonous, and | rise
and go homeward. w..
AS close our gate l hear Jasper DANES
voice. Sometimes it has struck me as being
musical, but now it fairly sets my teeth on
edge: What does it all mean? Has she told
MIN herself? Well, it may be better, I think
as walk in. Ottalie is bolt upright near the
piano; and Mr.. Dame is tramping up and
down the room. He comes to sudden pause
before me.
"What is the matter?" 1 ask, not in the
least because require information. I think
he guesses this, for he eyes me in an extreme
ly unpleasant way. 80.
1.-The matter! it is this,' he says in his
"1iou WIZ iLast ulSut L Was leu 10 DetleVe
your sister would be my affianced wife; nay,
that she was. To-day, when ask about oul
wedding day, she tells me she is already
married. That is all that is the matter, Miss
Peyre." >-. ~, :,
/ unite my hat strings and sitldown; 1 have
not the least idea what else to do.
"Forgive me-" she says, or rather means
coming few steps nearer him with a scared
pitiful face. '~', =
"For drawing me on! For making foo
of me! For allowing me to love you as have
never loved mortal yet! And when know
not whether to believe this strange assertion
and ask what your name Island why, il yor
are married, you have let me call you Miss
Peyre, Miss Ottalie-you refuse to speak
Madame, appeal to you,'.' he adds, turning
fiercely to me. "Is this the way to treat s
gentleman? Have I, or have I not right to
ask an explanation ?"
"Tell him, Deborah; tell him all, she says
trembling.
But I hold my peace, stubbornly. l feel
angry with everything and everybody. Hel
own folly led her into this; let her get out o.
it as she can.