Arizona weekly enterprise., 1882-11-25

you needn't go to Europe you see, for and then blurred signature. ''Come soon to your own Ros''--
 It flashed across him then. This was the latter which Rosamond had given him to post four weeks ago. It had lain in his pocket all this time. and had gone through the wash besides. Here U0S a pretty kettle of fish!
 Quickly his mind ran over the dis joined phrases, reading the half-oblt- erated meaning ''between the lines" The letter was in reply to an offer from Edgar, there could be no doubt of that.
 Astley had always suspected that there was tenderness in that quarter. And Rosamond had said ''yesn
 What must she have been thinking ing and feeling all these weeks?
 And then groan escaped from Ast- ley, as it flashed upon his mind that on- ly q fortnight since he had read Dwight Edgar's name in the list of the ''sailed for Europe;" read it aloud, with some careless comment.
 Rosamond was in the room, he recol- lected. What had she said? Had she said anything? He seemed to remember that she got up quickly and left the room.
 How should he ever tell her? And what use to tell. when Dwight was gone, gone for years as likely as not? Oh, what had his carelessness done?
 ''I suppose he went because ne thought she would have nothing to say to him. he said to himself, miserably.
 The sound of the dinner-bell inter- rupted his unpleasant meditations, and he went down feeling as if he ought to be hanged.
 Rosamond was in her usual place, neat, graceful, smiling even; but study ing her face with awakened attention, Astley thought that he detected effort in the smiles and the cheGrfulness. The sweet face was little thinner; the wild rose bloom, which was its characterist- ic, had paled to fainter pink. and Ast- ley heard his mother ask, ''Headache again, my child?" And caught the pa tient answer, "Just little"
 With increased remorse he exccrated his carelesSness. What ought he to do? What could he do?
 Long and deeply did he study over the question. At last he took a half stAOiA ICSOitllOI. Nbii- fess his delinquency to his sister he ab- Solutely dared not, but that night he wrote to Dwight Edgar, made full eX- position of his fault, and enclosed the faintly plotted scrap which said so little and meant so much.
 This done, he set himself to wait for the moment when he could produce ev- idence that. so far as ill him lay, lie had made amends for his misdoing, and till then he resolved to be silent.
 Astley was right in his guess. Dwight Edgar had gone to Europe a deeply dis appointed man. In the letter. to which Rosamondfs wss aIT>stsr,-be had writ ten, Don't say no. l could not bear that, nor could I give your gcntleness the pain of uttering the word. 1 will wait two weeks, and if at their end you have said nothing, shall go abroad, and travel till 1 can bear to come home again"
 Not q wise arrangement this, cOnSid- ering what chances and changes, in- cluding poSt-otfice laxities, are involved in this mortal life; but lovers are not al ways wise.
 The two weeks passed without word or token, each slow day deepening his hopeleSsneSs, and at their end he sailed. His final arrangements were made in a hurry. and he had been glad to accept a friends benevolent offer of half a staterOom on the over crowded steamer. It was benevolence very poorly reward ed, for John Blagden found him very dull company.
 For the first few hours he made some little effort at conversation, then he dropped all pretences and sat in moody silence, staring at the dim backward horizon from which each stroke of the paddles carried them farther and farth- CT.
 It was no better after they reached London. The two men took a set of rooms together at the Langham, but to all plans for pleasuring Dwight turned deaf ear.
 ''Go by yourself. that's q good fel- low," he said. ''I won't bore you with my dulness. I'll just sit l.ere till post time and read the American newspa- pers."
 And that is what left him at" ex- plained John Blagden to a mutual ae- quaintance encountered in the coffee room. 'Poring over an old Herald, twelve days out,-what an occupation for man to take up in London!'
 Poor Dwight, l never saw fellow so changed in my life. He's all cut uI about something, and 1 wish 1 knew ! what, for really, 1 have no notion what ! ought to do about him. Nothing can say makes any difference" And nothing did make any difference ! till, a week after this conversation, Mir l Bla9den returned from an excursion tC Hampton Court, to find his friend busily engaged in cramming his belongings in to a portmanteau, with light in hi eyes and color in his cheeks whicl made him seem different man.
 ''Halloa! Pm glad you've come, oIC fellow. I'm off at once.'
 ''Oh? Where top
 Home. Liverpool train at o'clocl and catch the Bohemia"
 'Home! The States! Why, wha does it mean? You were going to Pari with me on Tuesday, you said"
 ''Well-so I did intend but I've ha, letters and must get back as soon a possible.
 ''Nothing wrong, 1 hope"
 Not at all; quite the contrary. Every thing is right"
 Marvelling greatly, John Blagdel turned to the table, where amid news papers and torn wrappers, and othe. debris of a just arrived mail, lay shee of closely written paper with littl, hpaD on if of SOmpthinr odd and hlottad