Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1879-07-24

"Take me home, Victor. IL don't
feel very well! Please take me-
The words died away on her lips, and
the next moment Victor held her white
and scnscess in his arms.
A magnificent room, large, lofty and
furnished with Oriental splendor, from
the velvet carpet, into which the foot sank
nOiselessly, the silken, inlaid furniture,
the wondrous gems Of art that adorned
the walls, the rare statutes that filed
every conceivable nook, to the most mi,
mute article in the room.
At one of the windows Il tall, slender
woman stood holding back with slender
jcwelled hand the foam like draperies-a
woman so radiantly, rarely beautiful that
even the casual passer-by half paused with
a look of involuntary admiration on her
face.
The low white brow, the great dark
eyes, the curving crimson lips, and way
ing masses of buc-black hair made a pic.
ture almost perfect in its rare loylincss.
And yet it was not satisfied face; there
was a look of past pain and present long,
ing, strangely mingling, resting upon it.
Where the expression lay you could hardly
tell only it was there.
And this graceful woman, who seemed
born for the wealth that surrounded her,
was Renee Courtland, who had lain so
white and still in Victor Gray's arms six
long years before.
The change in her life had come so sud-
denly so Unexpectedly. An uncle of her
fathers, who had never spoken to him af-
ter his marriage with the pretty French
girl, had seen Renee and, being childless,
had left her all his wealth.
"Not for love-" he said, "she was too
like her Frcnchited mother for that,
though there was something Of the Court
land about her as well but simply because
she was Courtland and his nearest of
| KIM
But loyal Renee had never forgotten her
old friends, for whom in her stately home
Margaret Gray was with her, and every
summer the little cottage welcomed her
young face again.
For weeks and months after the day she
tainted in ViCtor's arms, Renee had been
the shadow of her former self.
Pale and listlcss, 1t seemed as if hope
would never rcaSscrt her sway in the ten
der young heart, and Victor watched her
suffering almost us much in his great love
| for her.
1t seemed at times to Renee Courtland
as if her heart must break, with its pas
sionate pam, but hearts donot break casi-
| ly at seventeen, and Renee conquered her
love, then buried it out of sight forever,
and as time passed on, if it rose to confront
her, she put it aside with all the strength
of nature.
Then came the great change in her life,
and smiles came back to the beautiful face
| though sometimes the shadow of the old
pain darkcncd it.
And four years later she met Lester Sin
clair again, handsomCr, if possible than
ever, with new gravity about him that
became him well.
He had laid his fair young wife to rest
in her grave, and was free again.
kcnee's face grew pale when she first
heard it, palcr still as he bent over her
hand, and then the past seemed to be for
gotten.
Even when he married one wealthy
heircss, Clare Duvanc, Lester Sinclair
knew that the little, dark-cyed girl held
more of his heart than he would willingly
acknowledge, and now seeing her day
after day, so regal in her lovclincss, the
old love dcepcncd, till Renee Courtland
held every hope CT happiness for him.
As time passed on VintOr Gray noticed
an added restfulness in Rcnce's eyes tina.
the weary look around her mouth deep
cncd, and could scarcely understand it.
He enters the room now, gravCr, per-
haps sterner than of old, and the girl came
forward to meet him.
"You are welcome, Victor" she said
clasping his hand, "and Margaret will be
so very glad"
"You do not look happy this evening,
Renee, he said his eyes on her face.
The girl turned away with Il quick, i'm
patient gesture.
81 am not happy" she said; "my life
has been one mistake"
(which will be rightcd in time he
answered, quietly, though his face palcd
slightly.
When Victor left her she went back to
her place at the window again.
W III ulIIIltoN litoo ny lNlCNNl
she cried; sis he blind, or is it that he
will not see?"
Only that morning Lester Sinclair had
stood before this girl, whom he had
wronged in her early girlhood, and plead
ed for her love as a man might plead for
life itself.
Coldly, almost haughtily she had an
swered him
mo. My love died for you years ago;
it could never come to life again"
"RcnGe, Rence!" he cried in a voice
of passionate pain, and the girl knew if
she wished revenge on Lester Sinclair
most truly she had it now.
"My love died years ago" she repeated
more gently, half plying his pain. "No,
Lester, it can never be"
Victor Gray merely went up to change
his business suit and speak a few words
to his sister, and in less than an hour he
joined Renee again.
As he entered the room he saw she
held portrait in her hand.
Scarcely conscious of what he was do
ing, he went forward.
"How you love that man, Renee" he
said bitterly.
The proud, dark face flushed
"What MANI" she asked coldly.
pardon me, Renee, | was rude; |
scarcely knew what sad. You are not
angry, ReneeP"
The girl was silent for moment; then
she crossed over to him.
''lf you mean Lester Sinclair" she
said, 'you are wrong, Victor. This
morning he asked me to be his wife, and
| refused him."
"You refused himP" Why Rence?"
81 love him no longer" she said.
Was Victor Gray blindp
Looking on the lovely, flushed face, lis
tening to the tremulous voice, could he
not understand
The lovely dark eyes were raised to his
face.
He bent his stately head.
"Renee, my darling, you love mep" he
said.
The next moment he held her in his
arms and kissed her sweet red lips.
"Say you love me, Renee, | have only
said it yet myself" he said.
A smile hovered round her lips.
"And no one at all said that you loved
me, VictorP"