The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1880-11-03

Isabel Vayasseur never sang bet
ter than to that small, appreciative
audience Of her own country-people;
but in the last piece on the program.
me as she glanced TO one side Of the
room, she stopped short, het eyes FIX.
ed, her face ghastly in its pallor.-
The orchestra played on. She threw
out her hand as if to steady herself,
then reeled, and would have fallen
had not some one caught and held
her. Then she was drawn back out
Of sight of her curious and sympathe-
tic audience.
In q moment she was erselfagain.
Harrison King was holding goblet
to her lips.
Show came you here2" she asked,
as she slowly drank every drop the
water.
II met Kinpard just after leaving
you," he answered. "IIe told me
that it was at his house you were to
sing, and told me l was welcome If
chose to come. So l Came, of course.
was Mortified at your fainting just
now"
"oh, it was nothing" she replied
lightly, speaking 10 those who had
gathered round herr "it has happen:
ed several times lately, and given
my physicians very gratifying
chance to say,T told you so.' I've
been singing too constantly, that is
all. ! am so sorry, Mrs. Kinnard, '
la,,iathlntt '1'r
"D6n't let it trouble you, Miss
Vayasseur. We have had a delight.
full evening, and only regret that
you have over-taxed yourself"
1t was not long before she was on
her way back to the hotel, Harrison
King beside her in the carriage.
"It's an ill wind, etc." Isabel" he
said, as he left her at the door of her
sitting-room, "but l suppose this
will be really the very last time. l
am going on to Rome tomorrow
Goodnight and goodbye" and he
turned away without another word.
Her fingers ached with the pres.
sure Of his upon them. She passed
her hand over her face as if bewild.
cred, then, as her eyes fell upon a
glove he had dropped, picked it up
with an inarticulate cry, kissed the
senseless thing with a passion no
words could express, and throwing
herself down upon a couch near
which she had been standing, buried
her head in the cushions in a convul.
sion ofhysterical, miserable weeping.
"Isabel!"
She sprang upright at the sound Of
her name. 1t was the counts voice
close beside her.
"Forgive me-" he said, humbly, ex-
tending his hand. ~ came ten min.
utes ago. Thsy told me you sang to.
night, and waited for you. ibid
not wish to interrupt you or your
friend, but waited too long per.
haps."
He was very handsome old man,
This hair was quite white, thoguh the
face was young and one which would
always remain so.
She Gained herself with an effort,
pacing the room |. few times before
she could trust herself to speak.
"rhe friend who had just left me is
from America, from my old home.
He has been in Florence two weeks.
He has been to see me every day
since he came"
"Yes," he said, as she paused a mo.
ment, chat is right, Isabel. l am
not jealous like my countrymen.
could never question anything that
you might do, or any friend you
might receive"
He had seated himself on the
couch she had occupied. She stop.
ped suddenly in her restless walk up
and down the room, and bending,
kissed his forehead with q strange,
yearning fondness.
He elooked upin surprise. Any de.
monstration was rare from her.
"You are SO kind to nae, Count Yur
roni-you always have BEEN"
She seated herself beside him and
dropped her head upon her hands as
nh a ta1knd