Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1879-05-06
Her Stocking Did it.

But the only sure thing. after all,
Is father when he's mad.
Her Stocking Did it.
She was very pretty-but there came
4 time when didn't think cared the
least for her beauty-her soul was SO
much more attractive than her body.
She was no humble wild flower maiden,
but woman who had received a mag
nificent dover Of blue blood, including
talent and all that culture could devel
op in beautiful and Intellectual woman
was hers all that wealth could bestow
upon her she possessed. She had the
good fortune to have no singularity of
nature, but all was a.symmetrical and
whole.
I loved her, and possessed the hum
bleness of true love. The more init
1nately knew her, she made me con-
scious of things that were mean in my
self. Out of this feeling grew jealousy
of other men.
A bitter jealousy. She was Of too
sunny and generous temper to pick
for flaws, nor could she know a man as
other men knew him. She could not
understand that DR.. Cosgrove was as
irritable in private as he was suave and
agreeable in public, and I would not
tell her that Capt. Langdale seldom paid
his debts. They were but two of her
many admirers, and they were both
handsomer and Shower than myself
In time I was miserable on their &C
count.
I cannot now, in cold blood, accuse
her Of coquetry, but Stephenie st. Jean
was of French blood on her fathers
side. Besides speaking sthat language
perfectly, she had the French woman's
secret of fascination. A trifle more in
vivacity, VIXEN surrounded by gentle
men, made her utterly irresistible.
I saw and felt the charm, and could
not content myself with the thought
that in the quiet hours we passed to-
gether I knew myself dear to her,
Many winter evening had we sat to-
gether on the little velvet sofa before
the drawing room fire, secure from in
trusion, her beautiful hand resting on
my arm, content in her eyes, happiness
in her smile. And yet, swearing her to
be the proudest and most delicate OF
women, I was madly jealous of other
men.
For months would not see her alone.
She was one of a large family, and she
had favorite cousin Lilly Lawton, who
was her constant companion.
She was very young and bright,
sweet little thing; but of late she had
seemed dropping, as if out of health, and
Stephenie had been unusually protec-
tive and kind.
For Stephenie's sake, I often took
Lilly out to drive, though her exceed
ing simplicity often bored me.
1 could not but wonder that Stephe-
ME associated with her so constantly ;
but Lily worshipped her magnificent
cousin, and the latter delighted in be-
ing kind to those weaker than herself.
Kitten" she called Lilly, and there
had been something especially kitten
ish in the girls round, bright, gray eyes
and playful, graceful ways.
Here special charm was gone now
She was a pale, faded, spiritless little
thing. Stephenie kept her constantly
under her wing.
Kitten must have green fields and
pastures new" she said. ''The May
suns are getting strong. and I, too, long
for a country trip. We are going to
Branchville, and shall be absent week.
Mind you are good boy till we come
back"
smiled, but on the wrong side of my
face.
IA week." murmured.
"A week and one day" she laughed.
I shall be gray headed when you
come back" said, smiling at my own
vexation.
She laughed more gaily than ever
than shadow fell over her face.
ut is for Lily's SAKE" she whisper
ed.-'Look at her."
Lilly lay on hammock on the piaz-
"a, her hands lying listless in her lap,
not shade of color in her cheek.
The thought came to me that the child
was bound for the land of shadows.
''She must have help soon," said Ste
picnic.
Eyes," answered.
/ saw them off on the morning train,
Kitten, with her cheek on Stephenie's
shoulder. I carried the picture before
my eyes all the week-my magnificent.
generous brunette supporting the failing
strength of that pale, fair-f faced child
And had never loved her better in my
life than in the new phase.
A week and day Stephenie had
said therefore [ had no expectation of
seeing her when, at the end of five days,
entered the drawing room of her faith
er's house to find an opera glass had
left there.
l had told the servant at the hall door
what my errand was, andsthat 1 knew
just where to look for the glass. But
on the threshold Of the apartment my
steps were arrested by the sound of Ste
phenie's voice.
A rush of delight went over me. I
was about to spring forward when [ dis
covered Stephenie was seated in the al
cove OF an inner room beside a gentle
man.
l stood irresolute. A curtain of blue
silk fell across the upper part of the fig
ure, but upon it lay their, shadows, as
they sat against the sunny windows be-
yond, and plainly outlined Stephenie's
beautiful head and Captain LangdaIe's
profile.
1 did not mean to be a listener to
their conversation, but as I demurred
about going forward, 1 distinctly heard
Stephenie say:
II love you utterly with all my heart.
I am not ashamed to say this because
you will never see me again.
She continued talking, but her voice
fell to low monotone, and l realized
my position and stumbled backward
out Of the room, and found myself in
the street, going dizzily home. Like
some hunted thing rushed TO my room
and hid myself from all eyes.
L remember throwing myself on a
couch and then starting up and walking
the room, looking at my pale face in the
glass, taking up books and opening as
if to read them, doing all sorts of unin-
territorial things in a mechanical way.
trying not to think of the revelation
that had come to me. because it seemed
I should go mad i'll did. But haunting
voice was crying in my ear: Stephe-
nie-lost Stephenie!
mo, no, she is mine!" I cried in des-
pair.
II have loved her so long and SO well,