The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1882-12-07

Pretty, isn't she9''
Every" ss
"Have you seen much of herm
ga great deal"
"Where?"
"Gerald used to escort her reverywhere
in town last Winter"
'sOhr' .I.
The red faded out of Trixy's checks
again. She had not been to any Lon.
don balls; she had tendency to cough,
Gerald did not dance. Why, then, hac
ton, to them? Obviously oEly to please
her. She was good dancer, she had
heard; and BERTHE, who was very fastid-
ious, pronounced her pretty. -...
Beatrice pushed away her meringue
untasted. The color did not come back
into the rounded check. She went up
stairs and tried to think what she should
wear at Mrs. st. Roses. Whatever it
might be, she was sure Maud Merton's
would be prettier. She was very fash
ionahle, and Gerald had an eye for
dainty costumes.
No sign of Gerald that evening, nor
all the next long, bright day, though-sle
St. Rose carriage had gone by, Gerald
driving with his beautiful cousin.
Miss Merton twas beautiful! Trixy saw
that she was n charming brunette, with
a cherry-red mouth and curling black
lashes. She was talking to Gerald with
most delightful animation, and he was
listening with an enjoyable smile.
If she had been crying again, when
she came down dressed for the party,
cologne and dash of pearl powder had
concealed all results about the pretty
eyelids.
She wore white, and knots of cherry
blossoms, and looked gentle and sweet
enough for nun or bride, Gerald Hill
ton thought, when he saw her.
He bowed pleasantly. He had Maud
on his arm; he seemed devoted to her,
Beatrice thought.
''He finds her kinder than l, and she
is far, far prettier!" she murmured.
She felt as if she were choking; but
she must not be a baby there. She
forced herself to chat, and sing, and eat
ices keeping for the most part with
BERTHE, though he was strangely prc-oc-
cupied. and spilled cream and blunder-
ed over ladies' dresses in the most un-
usual way.
Beatrice asked him to take her into
the garden at last, and he did so. Part
was Illuminated with Chinese lanterns,
and part in lovel y moonlight shadow;
but the moonlight, and the fragrance
and music, made Beatrice want to cry
worse than before-that strangely, lone
ly pain at her heart was so very hard to
bear.
BERTHE threw himself down on the seat
of little rose-cOvered arbor, with
long sigh, which Beatrice observed, and
asked him if his boots hurt him. He re-
piled grayely that they did not, although
they were very tight fit.
''You had better run in and sing that
duet with Mrs. St. Rose, which you de-
clined to do awhile ago, while l smoke
Il cigar" he said. s'rll be here when
you come back"
Perhaps she hadn't been wise to de-
cline; it wouldn't do to NOPE there,
anyway, TriX knew; she certainly should
be crying-the music of the band, hid
den among the acacias was so sad so,
never suspectin9 that BERTHE wanted to
be rid of her, she turned away and fit
ted back to the drawing-room. Again
Mrs. S. Rose urged her to sing with her,
and this time she consented. But the
words blurred and the lights dazzled.
for Gerald, with Maud upon his arm,
went out as she came in.
After the song she firted desper-
ately with Harold st. Rose for twen-
ty minutes, and then slipped away
to rejoin BERTHE. She ran down the
steps, turned round clump of shrub
berry, and there, in the shadow of q tree,
stood pair of lovers. She could only
see the outline of the gentleman's form
in the gloom, but of course it was Ger
aid, for the glow of Chinese lantern
struck Maud Merton face while it was
lifted tenderly to his, as, bending, he
kissed those beautiful lips, and Trixy
paused, breathless, she saw q ring slip
ped on that snowy hand.
With a sob, she turned and fled noise
lessly rs zephyr. She reached the rose
arbor by another path. She rushed in
to the fragrant gloom, and flung herself
upon the half-recumbent figure on the
rustic seat
"Oh, dear BERTHE, take me home! l
want to go! | cannot stay here! Gerald
is engaged to his cousin, and it's all my
fault. l refused him. l didn't dare tell
you. But, oh, I'm so miserable! You
don't need to scold me, BERTHE. AS
soon as he had gone, ! knew L loved
him. He's so brave and good. How
could | help it? / was silly; but l am
unhappy enough now. Oh, BERTHE,
take me home! My heart will break!"
The arms which had closed so quickly
about her drew her closer. In all his
life Bertie had never failed to be so
tender when she repented of her follies.
''Don't scold me, will you, dear Ber-
tie! Pm punished enough. love him
so, and have lost him!
''Are you sure, little girl?''
1t was not Bertie's voice. TriXy
caught Il quick breath as that strange,
yet familiar voice went on:
care you sure you love me TriXy,
darling? Because l hold you SO dear
cannot be trilled with again"
''Gerald?''
yes
IL was all in the darkr' stammer-
cd Trixy, trying to free herself.
But the gentle arms held her yet more
firmly.
80 am /, unless you will say once
more those precious words. Say, Il love
you, Geraldr'
1t was very dark, else Trixy blushing
to the roots of her golden hair, could
never have said them. But very sincere
| sounded the sweet voice:
Il love you, Geraldr'
my darling! my darlingn'
There was no doubt or mistrust to
make his voice cold now, and Trixy
nestled in those sheltering arms in de-
licious happiness.
But, Gerald" she whispered at last,
"whom did l see with Maud Merton?'
''Bertie, l suspect. He loves her to
distraction. They met constantly last
Winter, and he visited her at my sister s
when she was in town. They have been
in correspondence all Summer, but Ber-
tie wasn't sur~ ~of Maud-she is such an
uncommon nice girl and has so many
lovers-and begged me to get him a
chance this evening to speak with hel
alone. He came down here, and
brought Maud down, and as soon as We
appeared he popped out of the arbor and
popped in. l Iguessed how it would
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