The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1882-10-19
through the wash besides! Here was


q pretty ketlle of fish!
Quickly mis- mind ran over the dis
Joined pt rases, reading the half-oblit-
Grated meaning between the lines"
The letter was in reply to an offer from
Edgar, there could be no doubt of that.
Ashley had always suspected that
there was tenderness in that quarter.
And Rosamond had said eyes,
What must she have been thinking
ing ard feeling all these weeks?
Ard then groan escaped from Asst
lev, as it flashed upon his mind that on
" fortnight since he had read Dwight
Edgar's name in the list of the 'ssailed
for Europe;" read it aloud, with some
careless comment.
Rosamond was in the room, he recol-
lected. What had she said? Had she
said anythingP He seemed to remember
that she got up quickly and left the
room.
How should he ever tell herp And
what use to tell, when Dwight was gone,
gone for years as likely as not? Oh,
what had his carelessness done?
II suppose he went because he
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,
Ashley thought that he detected effort
in the smiles and the cheerfulness. 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 execrated
his carelessness. What ought he to do?
What could he do2
Long and deeply did he study over
the question. At last he took half
manly. half-cowardly resolution. Con-
fess his delinquency to his sister he alb
solutely dared not, but that night he
wrote to Dwight Edgar, made full ex-
position of his fault, and enclosed the
family blotted scrap which said SO little
and meant so much.
the moment when he could produce ev-
idence that, so far as in him lay, he had
made amends for his misdoing, and till
then he resolved to be silent.
Ashley was right in his guess. Dwight
Edgar had gone to Europe deeply dis
appointed man. In the letter. to which
Rosamond's was answer, he had writ
ten, Don't say no. l could not bear
that, nor could give your gentleness
the pain of uttering the word | will
wait two weeks. and if at their end you
have said nothing, shall go abroad,
and travel till can bear to come home
again."
Not wise arrangement this, consid-
ering what chances and changes, in
cluding post-office laxities, are involved
in this mortal life; butlovers 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
3 friends benevolent offer of half a
ststeroom on the over crowded steamer.
1t was benevolence very poorly reward
ed, for John Blagden found him very
duh 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 far.h-
er.
1t was no better after they reached
London. The two men took set of
rooms together at the Langham, but to
all plans for pleasuring Dwight turned
deaf ear.
''Go By yourself, that's good fell
low," he said Il won't bore you with
my dulness. I'll just sit here till post
time and read the American newspa-
pers."
''And that is what / left him att ex-
planned John Blagden to mutual ac-
quaintance encountered in the coffee
room. ''Poring over an old Herald,
twelve days out,-what an occupation
for man to take up in LondQnr'
Poor Dwight, / never saw fellow
so changed in my life. He's all cut up
about something, and / wish 1 knew
what, for really, have no notion what
/ ought to do about him. Nothing I
can say makes any difference"
And nothing did make any difference
till, week after this conversation, Mr..
Blagden returned from an excursion to
Hampton Court, to find his friend busily
engaged in examining his belongings in
to a portmanteau, with light in his
eyes and color in his cheeks which
made him seem different man.
''Halloa! I'm glad you've come, old
fellow, I'm off at once"
''Oh? Where to?n
Home. Liverpool train at O. clock
and catch the Bohemia
Home. The States! Why, what
does it meanp You were going to Paris
with me on Tuesday, you saidn
.'Well-so | did intend, but I've had
letters and must get back as soon as
possible
Nothing wrong, hope"
mot at all; quite the contrary. Every
thing is right
Marvelling greatly, John Blagden
turned to the table, where amid news
papers and torn wrappers. and other
debris of just arrived mail, lay sheet
OF closely written paper with little
heap omit of something odd and blotted.
''W hats that?n he asked. with natur-
al curiosity, STOPPING to examine it.
Dwight Edgar snatched it. .sIts-
it S. nothing" he explained, .'only let
ter Eve had.' Then breaking into a
laugh at his friends discomfited coun-
tenance. the first real laugh which John
had heard him give since they left
America, he added
Never mind. old boy, I'll explain
som day. It's all right, at least hope |
t Is, and know I've been q dull un-
social dog all this time. You've been |
awful good to put up with me, and I'll |
.ry to make amends next time we |
neet.n
Meanwhile the days were passing
leavily enough in far away America, |
where Rosamond bore her secret pain.
She had kept the knowledge of her
'lighted faith as choice secret, not to
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