The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-06-04

tention to her words as is his won't.
lis your home very beautifully" asks
she, timidly, looking at him the more
earnestly in that he seems rapt in con-
temptation of the valley that spreads it.
self before him.
"Yes, very beautiful" thinking of
the stately oaks and aged elms and
branching beeChes that go so far to
make up the glory Of the ivied Towers.
GLOW paltry this country must ap-
pear in comparison with your ownl"
goes on the girl. How glad you will
be TO get back to your own homel"
eyes, very glad" returns he, hardly
knowing what he says. He has gone
back again to his first thoughts-his
mothers boudoir, with its old china,
and its choice water-cOlors that line the
walls, and its delicate Indian statuettes.
In his own h0me-which is situated
about fourteen miles from the Towers,
and which is rather out of repair
through years of disuse-there are
many rooms. He is busy now trying to
remember them, and to decide which of
them would look best decked out in
crimson and gray, or blue and silver; he
hardly knows which would suit her
best. Perhaps, after all
GLOW strange it isl says Mona's
voice, that has now a faint shade of
sadness in it. How people come and
go in ones lives, like the waves of the
restless seal mean how strangely PEG.
pie fall into ones lives and then out
againm She heStates Perhaps some
thing in his face warns her, perhaps it
is the WEAKNESS Of her own voice that
frightens her. but at this moment her
whole expression changes and a laugh,
forced but apparently fun of gayety,
comes from her lips II 10 very well
done indeed, yet to any one but a jeal-
GUS lover her eyes would betray her.
The usual softness is gone from them,
and only a well suppressed grief and
pride that cannot be suppressed takes
its place.
"Why should they fall out again."
says Rodney, a little angrily, hearing
only her careless laugh, and-man-lke
ignoring stupidity the pain in her love
ly eyes. UNLESS people choose to for
get"
lone may choose to forget, but one
may not be able to accomplish it. TO
forget or to remember is not in ones
own power
That is what tickle people say. But
what one feels one remembers"
THAT is true, for time, with some.
For erer with others"
Are you one of the otherSW
She makes him no answer.
"Are yo,R" she says at length, after a
long silence.
II think so, Mona. There is one
thing shall never forget
MANY things, dare say" she says,
nervously, turning from him.
why do you speak of people drop
ping out Of your life?"
because, of course, you will, you
must Your world is not mine"
"You could make it yours
IL do not understand, " she says. very
proudly, throwing up her head with a
charming gesture. And, talking of
forgetfulness, do you know what hour
it is?"
You evidently want to get rid of
me. y says Rodney, discouraged, taking
up his hat. He takes up her hand, too,
and holds it warmly, and looks long and
earnestly into her face.
stored to something like hope-'by the
your mother in your desk, and You
promised to show it to me-
lit is here, y says Mona, rather pleased
at his remembering this promise Of
hers, and, going to a desk, proceeds to
open secret drawer, in which lies the
picture in question.
1t is handsome picture, and Geof-
frey duly admires it, then it is returned
to its place, and Mona, opening the
drawer next TO it, shows him some ex-
quisite ferns dried and gummed on
paper; 81. .,...... .,,,,, ,,, ,o, .,,,.
Godfrey, with genuine admiration
"And what is herep laying his hand on
the third drawer,
"Oh, do not open that-do not!' says
Mona, hastily, in an agony of fear, TO
Judge by her eyes, laying lettering
hand upon his arm
And why not this or any other
drawer?' says Rodney, growing pale.
| Again Jealousy which is demon, rises
in his breast, and thrusts out all gentler
| feelings. Her allusion TO Mr.. Moore,
most innocently spoken, and later on
her reference to the students, have
served TO heighten within him angry
suspicion.
"Do mott" says Mona, again, as
though fresh words are impossible to
her, drawing her breath quickly. Her
evident agitation incenses him to the
last degree. Opening the drawer i'm
pulsiyely, he gazes at its contents.
Only little withered bunch Of heath
er, tied bya blade of grass Nothing
more,
Yes" she says, with cheeks colored
to a rich carmine, and flashing eyes,
and lips that culver in spite Of all her
efforts at self control, "that is the bit of
heather you gave me, and that is the
grass that tied ii. kept 1t because il
reminded me of day when was hap
py. Now" bitterly, 81 no longer care
for IT; for the future it can only bring
back to me an hour when was grieved
and wounded
Taking up the hapess heather, she
throws ii ON the ground and, in tit Of
childish spleen, lays her foot upon it
and tramples it out of all recognition. -
"Go." she says, in choked voice, and
with little passionate sob, pointing to
the door. You have done mischief
enough" Her gesture is at once i'm
perious and dignilled. Then in a softer
voice, that tells of sorrow, and with a
deep sigh, lat least, v she says, IL be-
lieved in your honor"
The reproach is terrible, and cuts him
to the heart. He picks w the poor Ill