The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1881-08-09

tons and hrs own unwOrthlncSs.
Lady Matilda, buried in the downy
depths Of an arm chair, her ewes ap-
parently exploring vacancy. but in
reality keenly watching the move.
ments Of Langton. waited with feline
patience. She was too wise a woman
to NEEDLE actively in the matter and
court another rebuff; but Langton's
affection Of indifference had by no
means blinded her 10 the true state Of
the case, and she hoped still. Elsie
sat apart. beside the window. half in
and half out of the food Of NOON
light which partially lit the drawing
room. But I.angton. with the ex-
ception Of q few phrases Of course,
did not trouble her with his CONVEX
sation, and presently retired quietly,
leaving Bertha at the piano.
He sat at the window Of his room.
and locked out over the mOcn-flooded
park past the thin ribbon Of silver
which marked the course Of the river.
past the rich-leaved trees that stood
like islands of shadow in q sea Of
light. He was looking beyond them
into his own future. He was calmer
now, and could look at it quietly, in
spite Of the terrible gusts Of passions
that still shook him for q mOmen, and
passed. leaving the calm deeper. So
far he had done we'll. and was satisfied
with himself upon the whole. Us he
had a right to he. The prime tempt
alton of his life was overcome. and
his passion had made him false neither
to love nor friendship.
The calm beauty of the nigh; SEEM
Ell to draw him from the house out
into the alley in which he had heard
the condolences of the love lorn Rod
eric. He could not pass the spot
without something of a tremor. His
hopes lay buried under that grassy
mound. and great wave Of naineiess
made up Of love and sorrow
ard hopeless hope. rose in his soul.
And before it sank again he saw be-
fore him something that sent the
blood from his face-Roderic and FL
sic, dimly visible in the shade Of the
turning Of the alley. He slipped
back into the darkness with curse
Oh his lips, and something very like a
prayer in his heart. Some blind feel
ing that his trial was being made nm
necessarily bitter crossed his mind.
The voices reached him where he stood,
too low for the words they uttered to be
understood; and then another sound.
in the silence Of the
night. faint "a it was. A white figure
fiuttered by him, lost in the shadow,
and Vane's step went slowly crushing
the grass in the distance.
LangtOn left the spot with hurried
unequal steps, and walked rapidly
across the park in the direction of the
river. When he came to its banks
he turned and walked with its current.
Before he had gone mile the sound
Of the falling of distant waters met
his ears, and presently he came to the
spot ut which the bed Of the river
made sheer descent Of
some twenty feet. He stood at the
brink looking down ut the foaming
cal,lron into which the water rushed
with roar and clang like the shouting
IF an army. Some vague thought
that in that furious hell of warning
waters he might find the peace denied
TO him elsewhere crossed him as he
yazed. But Stephen Langton was
not of the stuff whereof suicides are
made.
THE towards remedy" he NUT
tered. as he turned away. Not
that not that
He continued his stroll along the
edge of the basin until his further
progress was barred by the trees that
nan to the edge, intwined breast-high
with bramble and brushwood, and
which served to mark the bounds of
his domain. Here, perforce. he
turned and retraced his steps. What
was the black shadow recumbent on
the edge of the fall, on the very spot
,n which he had stood ten minutes
before? He drew nearer to it with
silent steps, something too hideous to
be called a hope growing in his heart
10 he advanced. The figure moved,
and he saw the moonlight full upon
It's face. 1t was ROderic Vane. With
4 shout that rang high above the
tumult of the fall, he rushed down the
bank. Vane was on his feet and met
The shock.
"Iangton! Good God, what are
Tou doing?"
He held his arms about his victim
and resolutely thrust him back, foot
by foot. until they stood upon the