The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1881-08-24

youl In time | might love you.'h
Was he then to win SO easy a vic.
tory? Not SO.
"Let us go home," she interrupted
with a little shiver. SIT is growing
chillyp
Sydney, is this my answer"
Your answer" with an assump
tion of surprise. 81 was not aware
of any question"
e "You shall not even have this ex
cuse. Will you be my wife2"
His voice was stern now-stern tc
harshness-and his grasp frightened
on her hand. e
e"You hurt me, Mr.. Hunter,n she
complained, petulantly, making an
effort to withdraw herfiugers,
| Instant y he released. her
II see that / have hurt you," he re
turned, courteously, and took up the
idle oars. "Pardon me-" he contin.
ued, Il will not do it we're again"
A few bold strokes, and the boats
keel grated on the shore. Ten min.
utes later, and the two reappeared in
their hostess tastefully appointed
salon.
A group of men instantly gathered
about Miss Allison. Never had her
laugh rung out more clearly, her gay
sallies of wit and repartee been more
sparkling; but ever from time to
time, her eye roved restlessly to the
open window, where, on the parterre
beyond, shown the red light from a
mans cigar.
1t was still there, still cleaning,
when she had gone up to her own
room. She crossed to the window to
pull down the shade, but stood a
minute, fascinated, motionless.
"After tonight he will forget me-"
she murmured, sadly. "And IL
shall remember him forever!"
Then, as though a sudden trutl,
had burst upon her, she drew down
the shade-to throw herself, with
quick, impetuous motion, prone up.
on the couch, and weep the first
heart-tears she had ever shed.
"The drama has ended--Miss Ali.
son has refused him!" This was the
general verdict when, twenty-four
hours later, Bayard Hunter bade his
hostess adieu, and withdrew to town
on plea of sudden business.
ofcourse the news reached Sgd.
ney's ear.
81 have not refused him." she said,
aloud. "Not even that satisfaction
is mine," she said to herself-"nor
ever will bel 1t was only the might
have been!'"
He was not the man, she knew full
well, to plunge desperately into fir
tation, or associate his name at once
with another woman's, or to retire
later or rise earlier orin any way dis.
turb the even tenor Of his way. The
difference between them was only
this-his heart was healing, perhaps
already healed, but he would bear it
scar TO the grave, hers was a tester.
ing sore, which hurt the more that
she had let the physician who might
work its cure, pass her by.
The Summer waned to close
Nature had lent autumn it's wondrous
paint box and magic brush, and
mountain and hillside were convert.
ed thereby into glorious beauty
Then came King Frost, first to
heighten by his touch, then to kill,
followed by Winters tagging foot.
steps, mercifully bearing the exqui-
site white shrond of snow to cover
up all signs Of devastation and de.
cay.
The season in the gay world was
at its height. Occasionally, murmurs
among the debutantes for its honors
arose at the fact that, though Miss
Allison's fourth winter, her former
success paled in its most effulgent
light.
She and Bayard Hunter constant
ly met. She almost wished he might
avoid her, but at their first chance
encounter he had approached with
outstretched hand.
"How charmingly You are looking,
Miss Allison," he had said.
And all in vain she had watched
for a tremor in his tone, or a shadow
Of embarrassment in his manner.