The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1882-06-23

Even as Disney watches them, stricken
to the heart by this cruel picture on
which he has so unwittingly intruded, a
passionate outbreak of words comesfrom
Ponsonby's lips.
"Darlingl" he says, 81 appeal to
! you for the last time, and impiore you
| to. listen to me Do not, L beseech you,
let the alteration of another r"-("That's s
me-" Disney says, between his COM
| pressed lips. y" blind you to the undy-
ing love L offer On you are conferred
all my hopes of future happiness! Do
not sentence me to lifelong despair, but
| say You Will be mine p
| Disney waits with maddening lmpa-
thence and beating heart for her reply.
1t comes very nervously from Doro-
thy's pretty lips.
Her head is bent modestly, and her
hands lie passively in Ponsonby's.
How can L answer youY She says,
| in distinct but wavering accents. ''And
yet why should l not unburden mJ
mind? Truth islalways best Ny heart
has long been n your keeping, apd II
| you wish it, it is yours.
1t is too muchl Sick at heart, Disney
/ turns away, not caring to listen TO words
| evidently not meant for him to hear.
| The dreadful awakening has come! All
| Ills NlfCdluS VI blAoo AAStNO
by this sudden and painfully Unexpected
blow; and Dorothy, his love, whom he
has believed as true as the angles. is
nothing more in his eyes nov than
practiced fiirt and heartless woman of
the world
Z , His first thought is to return to the
city; his next to remain. Has he not
heard somewhere "second thoughts are
/ best?n Yes; he will remain, and see it
/ out to the bitter end; and when this
loathsome play has come to an end, he
vii tell her what Ire thinks of her, and
| how she has wilfully broken hs heart
and ruined his lifel
/ ( At dinner he Is compelled 10 meet
her; but everybody being present, his
| exceedingly cold greeting passes un-
| noticed by all, except by Dorothy her
self. She can not mistake the change
IN his whole demeanor. Where IS the
| tender pressure of her hand to which
| she has been accustomed? Why did
! he come at all if he is still filed with
bitter thoughts? There is some faint
| comfort in the remembrance that she
! did not ask him to return.
| But what has become of the "press-
ing business?" Why has he come back
In such hot haste?
| He carefully avoids her all the even
ing; end next morning at breakfast is, if
| possible, more markedly cold and dis
tant toward her.
| She is saddened and disheartened; but
pride con es to her rescue. She decides
| in herself that she will show him how
little she has taken to heart his coldness
iiand indifference.
II Never before, perhaps. as during this
49,. I, 4 J p,n.-
peared so gay, so bright, so full Of life
and spirits and yet in the solitude of
her own room while dressing for this
luckless play, she sheds many bitter
tear.
At o'clock the curtain rises The
guests settle themselves in their seats
and prepare for anything.
Miss Rodney arrayed in a very Quix-
otto costume, fresh from Worth, appears
before the audience, simperiDg and grim
acing, and doing her utmost to initiate
a real live Countess, while in reality she
only. succeeds in resembling a very in
ferior soubret.
While Miss Falkiner, from the Hall,
who is in private life her intimate friend,
now makes a poor pretense at waiting
upon her as confidential maid, and rem
ders herself utterly ridiculous by giving
herself sufficient airs for half dozen
Countesses.
Both are a distinct failure. Everybody
tries to applaud, but disparaging remarks
fall lightly on the air.
The faint applause brings to life two
hardy veterans, who for some time past
have given themselves gratis to the open
arms of Morpheus, and have cohtent-
edly reclined therein.
n hatfa,-
chance of getting off than the girl. In
green" sleepily drawls Number One.
"Do you?" replies Number Two.
''Well, I'm not much of a judge about
that sort OF thing; but my opinion is
neither will get off before the other.
You see, my dear fellow, when women
are born with a talent for acting like
those two--two tyros, they don't get
easily settled In life."
Then the curtain draws up for the
second time, and somebody comes slowly
onto the stage somebody who sets
Cyril's pulses swiftly throbbing
1t is Dorothy. She is very pale, and
her eyes are little languid but she is
Just degree lovelier than she ever was
before.
Disney hardly hears how the play
progresses. Not.a syllable makes itself
known to him he can only ell.himsef
how lovely she is looking, and that she
is as false as fair.
Her eyes are on the ground but sud-
denly some words strike upon his ear
words that bring back to him scene
fraught with grief and anger. He starts,
and lifts his head and for the tirst time
eagerly regards the players.
Ponsonboy is on his knees before her.
He is holding her hands. His whole at
titude is as it was that fatal afternoon
in the conservatory. He is again pour
ing forth his soul In words of extrava-
giant passion.
And then Dorothy's voice rises, clear
but sad, and devoid of the warmth that
had characterized it during the re-
hearsal.
my heart has long been In your
keeping, and if you wish 1t, it is yours.
AS she finishes her speech she raises
her eyes and fixes them steadily, and
with keerest reproach, on Disney, who
returns her gaze, his eyes full of con-
triton. enE
Then the scene changes, and Miss.
Bohun makes her exit, amid applaud
ings, loud and deep.
The curtain drops; so. 1 may almost
say, does Disney. How bitterly he now
repenfs his unpardoaiable jealousy.
Where shall,he hide himself from Doro-
thy's Justly reproachful gaze?
Nothing he can ever do will make her
forgive him, of that he feels assured
and as he calls to mind the happy days
that have been, 50 Remembrance sits
upon him like ban :" He feels "They
should beware who charges lay in love"
Yet in spites of his despair, he deter
termines to make an effort to regain his
lost position.
He viii go to her. Rising suddenly,
he follows her to the green-room, where
he knows she must be.
She is there, and alone.
Dorothy y he says, entreatingly.
She turns with start.
"Can you spare me few moments ?"