The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1883-05-30
ing his opportunity to strike you to

ing his opportunity to strike you to
the heart"
"At last'-she rose from the chair,
white as death-"at last the blow
fell and at that moment the clock
struck. it was striking when I walked
up, but the hands seemed to stand
at quarter of three. l screamed
but you never heard menor saw me,
and then l awoke."
"And whose was the facet" he
asked.
If he felt any emotion as he listen
ed to her description of place he
only knew too well, he gave token of
none.
How can tell except to describe
it? A narrow, high forehead, black
curling hair, eyes brighter than dia-
monds, a look of assured power, thin,
but handsome lips, tall, sinuous.
All, shall never forget that man
never"
mo. He don't let people forget
him, once they have seen him." her
husband said, and then looked up
with a keen, almost frightened
glance as he still stood smoothing
his hat with his gloved hand.
"Oh, then, you know him? My
dream means something. Now you
will stay, oh, Ralph, you will stay 2"
she added, with supplicatipg voice
and eyes.
Indeed 1 will not stay" he made
answer impassively. an go if only
to show you of what intangible stuff
dreams are made. So farewell, and
forget-all you can," he added in a
lower voice ndsomewhat impress
lively. "If you don't see me again,
why, farewell, and meet your fate as
bravely as you meet me-"
He went out humming and laugh
ing, leaving his wife sitting motion
less, nameless horror in her eyes, a
faintness at her heart that she could
not conquer.
How much she had dared, how
much she had done for that hand
some, wayward man.
How dearly she had loved him,
how fervently she believed in him.
And even yet it seemed to her that
if only once she could compel that
better self of his to come out into the
light she might yet save him from
the curse that seemed lowering over
him.
She believed in her dream, rather
vision, she called it; and now he
had gone to his doom, leaving her to
suffer alone.
There was nothing to be done but
to endure her loneliness. If she
could but have followed him, as a
strange yearning possessed her to do
now. But how? He had taken a
cab at the door, and she was not
hardy enough to venture out, partic-
ularly as thick fog had suddenly
sprung up, obscuring the streets.
For some moments she walked the
room, her hands clasped, her breast
heaving with emotion.
"To be in this great city alonew
she murmured, "and he leaves me
so often alone"
She went to the grand piano and
struck a few chords wildly; they
seemed only to recoil in sound
against her heart.
She took up a dainty violin, but
the tones held no melody for her
now.
Suddenly the door was thrown
open.
"A lady," said the pompous SER
want, with doubtful glance at the
veiled figure.
Mrs. Forester came forward with a
cry of almost rapture.
Anyone who would have been
welcome in that supreme hour, how
welcome then his sister, whom she
had never seen before.
Il thought Ralph would have
been at the depot" said the young
girl. after her wraps had been taken
of.
you don't know what a time /
had finding you. l am afraid he is
by no means model husband" she
added, laughing, little knowing what
pain she gave. "He used to think
we girls never needed him. but, in
deed, l think he should have met
me-"
HE would, / think, but for an en-
gagement that called him away"
said Mrs. Forester, a sudden pain at
her heart.
Now perhaps she could while
away the hours of that dreadful
evening.
How pretty you are, and what
lovely rooms" said the young girl,
looking about her. 'Do you make
tea vourself?"
'Oh, yes. always, Ralph likes the
tea | make better than any 9TH
er."
"But you're not happy" thought
the girl. I'm afraid your neither
of you happy. Shall l sing for you.
They say have very good voice"
above all things / should like to
hear you sing, if you will not mind
my walking about. l am restless
this evening""
"Of course, walk all you please,
and l will see if l am in good voice.
1t was such a dreadful voyage, and
| am to make my appearance in pub
lie tomorrow night"
The evening passed wearily away
to Mrs. Forester. Hour after hour
she looked for her husband, who
sopetimes, if he had run of luck,
came home early. An indefnable
anxiety weighed her down.
As for the little Lissetta, she used
all her efforts to amuse her. There
were SO many beautiful things to see
and talk about, that she would not
listen to any excuses for retiring.
II don't usually 90 to bed till r.
che said, "and sometimes q good
deal later. Do You think Ralph has
gone to the theatre 2"
Il am quite sure he has not.n
There came a knock at the door.