Morris tribune., 1882-07-06
membranes that sne did not ask him to

But what has become of the "pressing
such hot haste?
He carefully avoids her all the even
ing; and next moreing at breakfast is, il
possible, more remarkably cold and dis.
tant toward her.
She is saddenedand disheartened; but
pride comes to her rescue. She decides
in herself that she will show him how
little she has taken to heart his GOODNESS
and indifference.
Never before, perhaps; as during this
interminable day has Miss Bohun aR-
peared so gay, SO bright, so full of life
and spirits; and yet in the solitude OF
her own room, while dressing for this
lhckless play, she sheds many bitter
tear
At nine o'clock the curtain rises. The
guests settle themselves in their seats,
ana prepare for anything.
Miss Rodney, arrayed in very Quix-
otic costume, fresh from Worth, appears
before the audience, simpering and gri-
macing, and doing her utmost to initiate
real live countess while in reality she
only succeeds in resembling very in
ferior soubret.
While Miss FAlkiner, from the hall,
who is in private life her Intimate friend,
now makes poor pretence at waiting
upon her as confidential maid, and rem
ders herself utterly ridiculous, by giping
herself sufficient airs for half q dozen
countesSes.
Both are distinct failure. Everybody
tries to applaud, but disparaging remarks
falrhghtly ON the air.
The fMnt applause brings to life two
hardy veterans, who for some time past
have given themselves gratis to the open
arms Of Morpheus, and have cententedly
recGned therein.
"T think Miss Rodney has a better
chance of getting off than that girl in
green," s.eepily drawls Number One.
"Doyou?" replies Number Two. "Well
Pm not much of . judge about that 30 n
\ of thing; but my opinion is neither will
get off before the other. You see, my
dear fellow, when women arc born with
talent for acting like those two-twc
tyros. they don't get easily settled il
ife.'
Then the curtain draws up for the
second time, and somebody comes slowly
on to the somebody who sets
CyrA's pulses swiftly throbbing.
1t is Dorothy. She is very pale, and
her eyes are q little languid; but she is
Just degree lovlier than she ever was
before.
Disney hardly hears how the play pro.
crosses. Not q syllable makes itself
known to him; he can only tell himself
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 a scene
wraugks withgrietand anger. He starts,
and lifts UP his head ;and for the FIST
time eagerly regards the players.
Ponsonhy on his knees before her.
He is holdiag her hands. His whole at
titude is as it was that fatal afternoon in
the conservatory. He Is again pourinp
forth his soul in words of extfayagant
passion.
And then Dorothy's voice rises, clear
but sad, and devoid Of the warmth that
had characterized it during the re-
hearsal.
"My heartshas long been in your keep
ing, and if you wish it, it is yours"
As she finishes her speech she raises
her eyes and fixes them steadily, and
with her keenest reproach, on Disney,
who returns her gaze, his ewes full OF
contrition.
Then the scene changes, and Miss Bo-
hun makes her exit, amid applaudings
loud and deep.
The curtain drops; so Imay almosts say,
does Disney. How bitterly he now re-
pents his objectionable jealousy! Where
shall he hide himself from Qorothy'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, Remembrance Sits up-
on him like ban," he feels ''They
should beware who charges lay in love-
Yet in spite of his dispair, he deter
mines to make an fort to regain his lost
position,
He win 60 to her. Rising suddenly
he follows her to the green-room where
he knows she must be.
She is there and alone.
"Dorothy!" he says, entreatingy.
She turns With start.
Can you spare me few momentsY'
Cant you wait until the morning, or
is tia matter of life or death?" she speaks
very coldly.
That your answer ans shall decide"
eyes" Gomg up to her, he takes both
her hands in his, and holding them in a
close clasp, says, eagerly, Darling, I have
been fool, brute, everything unpar-
donable! Anything you could say to me
would not be hard enough. will 90 on
my knees.for your forgiveness, if YOU will
only grant it! Did you know half the
misery [ have suffered I am certain you
"I'm not 80 sure that shall"
What! ! shall die if you, throw me
over like this-I shall indeed?"
"Oh, no, you won't-nota a little bit!"
says Miss Bohun..
'sBut I assure you I will!' exclaims
Disney: "Life would be impossibI e
without you'll"
~" well; but, you see, have promised
.No; not exactly that"
"Speak quickly" he says, in low
tone. Suspense is mad6ening!'
81 have promised him to become q
member of the Archaeological society, y
.And couldn't YOU have said 50 be-
fore?" says Cyril, with deep sigh of
"How could I when you were going
mad?"
Darling! can you forgive my folly?"-
coming still nearer to her as he speaks
There's sRch great deal of it, isn't
there| says Miss Bohun. t'It will take
me all my time, won't it?"
Not all, I trust. Spare me a little
and shall be more than content"
Dearest Cyril" she says, mischiev-
ously, with a quick glance from under
her lorg eyelashes, and a relapse into
her rehearsal tone, ''my heart has been
long in your keeping, and if you wish it,
it is yours"
my >love-my darlingy' murmured
Cyril, passionately.
And so.
''Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake
again,
And all went merry as q marriage BELL
Some Dainty Mark.
In Elizabethan times one Mark Sealiot
porcfrucfod q loeb ofo1ovdn piacor dfirop