The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1883-12-12
A LAKESIDE MUsING.

do you love me truly, EarOluf
Lurline Ncversink wa even more beau
tiful than usual as she stood in the soft,
mellow light that strcamed from the chan
delicr overhead, and, looking downfondly
upon her, George W. Simpson felt that to
wreck forever the happiness of her young
life, to plunge her soul into the turpid
depths of despair and hold it there by the
heels, were a crime than which none could
be more black. He knew that this girl,
whose weird, passionate nature made her
heart a lutte for every passing JOY or grief
to play upon, had given to him the one
best love of a woman's lifc-hcr first.
1t was something to be tcnderly proud
of, this love-something not to be worn
lightly on the sleeve where all might
see it, but tucked carefully away
in the woodshed of IL mans soul, Sc
cure alike from carping criticism or cruel
jest. And yet as George w. Simpson
gazcd tendcrly into the dark, lustrous
eyes that were aglow with hopeful cx.
p%cctancy, he felt that the maelstrom OF
passionate alteration into which Lurline
Neversink had allowed herself to be
drawn would one day cast her young
heart bleeding and torn upon the jagged
rocks of his refusal. 1t was n terrible,
maddcning thought, and it came with
awful force to George as he stood in that
p~alatial mansion. his feet sinking into
the velvet carpet until he was in danger
of becoming cock-anklcd, and heard the
words with which this chapter opens.
Bending tendcrly over the girl, George
kisses her in 4 chaste, New Haven
Conn., manner but does not dare trust
himself to answer in words the Hateful
question she has asked. And then they
pass into the mushroom, which is
separated from the hall by a portiere
of navy-blue velvet. The windows
of the room are shaded by u
tains of the same rich COLOR; and the
walls between them are covered
with paintings. Statues of Mozart,
Beethoven and Guido filled inches, while
over the low mantcl hung a full-length
portrait of Maud S. No word was spoken
lntil Lurline had seated herself at the
piano, and then it was simply a request
that he hand her a certain piece of
music. AS he stopped forward to COM
ply the outlines of his face were brought
into strong relief against the ruddy back
ground of his left ear, and Lurline gaZcd
at him intently. His was such q counte-
nance as one sees in old italian portraits,
in some Vandykcs, showing power
strangely blended with passion. His
mouth, beautiful as a woman's, with its
smile generous and rare as a split cod
fish. was tightly compressed and asblood-
less as marble. His eyebrows, dark,
straight, and finely pcnciled, met over
his dark gray eyes, and in the latter
there was a fixed, resolutc expression that
BODIED no good to a square meal if he
should happen to meet one.
At last the music was found and
Lurlinc began to sing. Carried away by
the inspiration of the moment, she sang
on and on until at last she paused from
sheer exhaustion. And then, seeing that
George was not at her side. she turned to
the %fautcuil at her left. There he lay
dead in all the proud grandeur of his
glorious manhood, while on his forehead
fell, the golden dawning Of a grander
day" lie had died at the moment when
he was passing the stone that marks the
loftiest point on life's highway-dicd
where manhood's morning almost touches
it, and while the shadows were falling
toward the West. The mellow light
from the chandelier stole into the hushcd
chamber of death and wandered over his
stately form that lay powerless and
stricken. over his noble, handsome face,
telling. even in death. of the deathlcss
love he bore her.
lie had forgotten t" plug up his ears.
--CHicago Iribunr.