Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1882-03-02

of disseminating the young man. and
turning his love for Lilly into aversion
and dislike.
While Harry Penryth related the
story of his friend and his tragic death,
Mrs. Warburton's face had grown white
a wild haunted look stole into her eyes,
and the little hand, which held sprig
of the obnoxious rose geranium was icy
cold and trembled.
She threw the flower away:
"I'm sorry offended you with my
geranium," she said humbly, lit is no
favorite of mineP'
1t was deliberate falsehood, but no
matter. "The end justifies the means >
at least shN tn ught 80.
As soon as she was alone in her own
chamber, she paced the floor like a
Gagged tigress.
my God!" she painted breathlesslY,
"what would he say how he would
scorn me, if he knew that am Ethel
Delorme, the woman who Jilted Gerald
Brookes! But he never shall know. l
love him! / love himl And l shall win
him if die for it'll" She fell into pro-
found reverie. All at once her dark
face lighted strangely. 81 have It'll" she
exclaimed. Il lleleive / can see my
way"
That night Mrs. Warburton stood be-
fore the mirror in her room arrayed for
the hop which was to take place below
stairs. She was regal in cream satin
and lace with white roses i'll her mag
nifcent black hair. She moved slowly
toward window where pot of rose
geranium was sitting, and stopping over
it, broke off o mass of scarlet bloom.
Then humming softly to herself, she
left the room, crossed the wide corridor
and tapped at door.
"Come in!' cried sweet voice, and
Mrs. Warburton turned the knob and
entered Lily Moreton's room.
"How lovely you arel" she cried, rap
turousIy, jealous Rang at her heart,
meanwhile, as her eyes fell on the slen-
der figure in white lace and pearls.
'But oh, Lily my lovel" she added with
a gush of apparant sincerity, "why do
you wear pearls' See, have brought
you some of my favorite flowers. l
cannot wear them with this gorgeous
costume; red and yellow would be to
gorgeous for me, and 1 do think this
dash of scarlet with your lovely white
lace would be too pretty for anything.
Will you wear them, ma chere"
The young girl looked pleased. She
was sweet tender-hearted little thing,
incapable of deceit, and therefore, un-
suspecting.
"You are very kind. Mrs. Warburton,
she replied; ''indeed will wear them. "
So the willy widow fastened the red
blossoms in Lily's golden hair and at her
throat and waist as conspicuously as
possible; theu, her work accomplished
she fitted away.
When Lily descended to the grand
salon below she was joined at once by
Harry Penryth, who offered her his
arm for prominade. A pair of flashing
black eyes followed the two as tney NOV
ed slowly through the rooms, and a
pair of rosy ipps curled with strange
smile as she saw Harry PenrytA gaze
fxedly at his companion. and turn pale
to the very lips. The subtle instinct
which so strangely affected the young
man, was slowly but surely entering his
heart.
After time Mrs. Warburton observed
Mr.. Penryth making his way through
the crowd to her side. He looked pale
and troubled.
"Come out and walk, Mrs. Warburton
will you not9" he said offering her his
arm. With triumphant look in her
eyes, she arose, and they strolled out
into the moonlight.
"Where is Miss Moreton?" queried
the widow archly.
"I do not know" he replied, trifle
coldly. "Let us sit here" he added.
pointing to a rustic seat.
1t was lovely night; his companion
was beautiful and facinating. Heaven
only knows of what foolishness Harry
might have been guilty, but just then a
voice fell on their ears from the shrub
berry near.
"Ah, Dupont !" cried mans voice,
and wifi of cigar smoke foated by;
"why didn't you tell me that Delorme
was here?"
"Delormep' returned his companion:
81 don'tknow of whom you are speaking.
The first speaker laughed lightly.
"You remember the woman who Tilted
Brookes, don't your Poor Geraldl he
was noble fellowl Well, she afterward
married old Warburton, the millionaire,
and worried him into the grave within
a year. She's facinating widow, and
the young men (who do not know herr
flock round her like moths in candleI
hear Penryth is the last victimP"
"'Indeed?" laughed the other and the
TWO passed on.
Harry Penryth turned on his compan-
ion face of marble whiteness. "What
does this mean?" he gasped, "Answer