The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1880-08-05
TWO w OMEN.

The fierce fires of July sunset had
burned themselves away in shimmering
heat, and with the fervid sunset ing had
come no breath of fresh air to give
promise of a cool, refreshing night,
or d less sweltering day on the morrow.
in the marble foored corridor of Mrs.
isabelle SYdney's city residence several
trunks stood strapped and piled. ready
for the expressman's cart the first thing
in the morning; and in Mrs. S. dney's
boudoir-a large, beautiful room, that
was the perfection Of tasteful luxury
that lady sat, in an open bamboo rock
ing-chair, languidly flaming herself.
She was handsome, decidedly, from
the little wavy tresses OF rich bronze
brown hair, that the hot weather only
made the waiver, to the tiny toe of her
blue-rOset'Cd slipper, that rested easily
on the Persian silken hassock, that was
partly concealed by the billowy foam of
lace and lawn upon the train Of her
robe de chambre.
Very handsome, very imperious, very
rich and influential in the circle in
which she moved-a woman who had,
ever since she married Mr.. Sydney Sgd
ney, of the great firm Of Sydney & Force,
bankers and brokers, been accustomed
TO say do this" "do that" and to be
obeycd.
And tonight, with the silver. and
crystal pitcher Of iced orangeade on the
marble stand at her side, the gas burn
ing softly and brightly inside the silvery
pink globe. directly at her shoulder, an
open novel, freshly cut, awaiting her
royal pleasure to become interested,
lying across heI snow-whitc lap, one
would have known that Isabelle Sydney
was one accustomed TO personal cas-
and the extreme of selfish ratification
But somehow she seemed in no haste to
begin reading, delightful as she knew.
by rich experience, the author invaria.
bly, was. She leaned back in her chair
and waved her fan slowly, gracefully,
as she did everything, and then quietly
arose and stepped to the telephone and
delivered low-spoken message,
About five minutes aiterward Marion
Day came in the room, with her white
zephyr shawl over her arm, a wide
trimmed gypsy hat on her lovely, rip
ping hair, looking like a princess in
her cool gray linen dress and linen col
lar and cuffs,
Marion Day, daily goveness, at two
hundred and fifty dollars n year, to the
Sydney children, Aimee and Margue.
rite, five and seven, whom she had just
kissed goodbye until their return from
their six weeks stay at the seaside and
mountains.
Mrs. Sydney raised her eyebrows in
acknowledgment of Marion's presence.
You were just goingP Miss Marguc-
rite and Miss Aimee are retired, I sup.
pose, Miss DayP sent for you, as it vii
be necessary for me to keep you later
than usual this evening"
A look of CONSERVATION instantly
came into Marion's face.
L am afraid ] cannot stay tonight,
Mrs. Sydney. have already been
detained nearly an hour beyond my
time, and my mother is very much
worse to-day"
Mrs. Sydney laid her fan down on
the tabIe--a movement that somehow
reminded Marion that this rich, naughty
woman's viii was her law.
II am very sorry, of course, that
your mother is worse; but really, Miss
Day, | cannot see that | should b.
obliged TO suffer orthat account. l am
particularly anxious that you should
write out n form of light study Tor your
pupils to follow while they are away
You can remain, and have the use Of
Mr.. Sydney's library until halCpast
nine"
Marion looked pale and dismayed, as
she listened.
GLOW can | leave her any longerP
she is dangerously Ill, Mrs. Sydney.
She NAV be dying-nlOneW