Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-04-13

to see her lover during the day, but as the
slow hours dragged by and he neither
came nor wrote her heart grew heavy.
she was naturally little inclined to de-
preston after the exciting scene OF the
morning; but, resOlutely determined not
to give way to selfish regrets, she went
early after tea into her mothers room TO
cheer and comfort her as far as she
could before their separation on the NOR
row.
"As Charlie came in Mr.. Beltham re-
marked that as he had been indoors all
day, ne would go below for little walk
in the flower garden, as his wife might be
left in such good hands.
'sDo 20, Albert" said his wife. ''Charlie
will stay with me, and you need rest so
much"
So, with few tender words and kiss,
he left her and went down stairs. He
walked directly towards the terrace
and stood still a moment listening.
Hearing nothing, however, he walked
slowly up and down the gravel path. 1t
was a lovely starlighted night, dark
enough in the thick shrubbery where he
walked, but with an atmosphere clear and
soft as May. This man, however, had
never been susceptible to the subtitle
charm of nature. His eyes, like his
thoughts, were always intently turned in
ward, making line and rule for his schem-
ing soul. So tonight he saw the stars as
little as he felt the charm of springsin the
balmy, lovely air.
Something does attract his notice, how
ever. 1t is the faint, far-of fragrance of
an excellent cigar. He stopped and
waited, and gradually footsteps APP
preached his sheltered position. 1t was
EscOtte Fearne, as he knew well, and il
was to meet him that he had waited here.
Not to be suspected of waiting and
watching, however, he took off his hat,
and, appearing not to see the visitor,
walked leisurely back and forth. He
could not be easily mistaken for plotter
of any sort. He looked like gentleman
taking quiet stroll in his own garden;
resting after the fatigues of the day. As
MIR. Fearne's football struck the stone ter
race he turned suddenly as if reused
from an absorbing reverie of some sort,
and looked critically at the newcomer as
if in some doubt as to his identity. Then
suddenly stretching out a hand he said
with frank courtesy:
"Why, Mr.. Fearne, good evening. Do
walk in. At first don't think 1 recog-
niZed yOu-the strawberries are so thick
just here there is little Light
'GOOd evening, Mr.. Beltham," came 50
cOldly from the other that, startled and
anxious, ne made one more nervous at
tempt to be cordial.
"Will you walk right in, sir, or would
you prefer to finish your cigar first; the
/ outside is very attractive just now"
Il will go in,'' MIR. Fearne remarked,
/ abruptly throwing away his cigar. Il
/ wish to see Miss Barrett"
"Ah! yes-yes, 1 suppose so, but 1 re-
I greet to say that Charlie is not IN. She
( went with my mother into the city to pur-
| chase a few articles"
/ "Into the city-to-night? Ishould think
/ ladies would prefer daylight for shopping
! purposes"
! last-remembered things for my poor
! wife whom | Will carry away early to-
! morrow"
''Where viii I probably find Miss Bar
| rett and your mother?7
II think they spoke of Langst0n &
| Thorne. Dry goods men on Ellis street."
Il viii see them there. Good even
ing y, o.
/ it is useless to ask you to await them
| here"
''Entirely.7
The speaker had started off, when, sud
denly turning, he inquired:
''What will be your address for the next
| few days, Mr.. Beltham? | may want TO
write YOU"
No little confused he gave the address,
/ and, almost before he had finished speak
/ while Mr.. Beltham stood musing in no
very pleasant mood. A something in Mr..
! Fearne's manner had disturbed him. 1t
| lacked the courtesy which, though but of
I a formal kind, had always heretofore
| marked their intercourse. What did it
mean? and why had he asked for his adj
( dress? \ moment he felt perpleXed and
| distressed. Then, throwing back his head
| with a light laugh he thoughts: ''Ah! l
| have it. 1t is the same thing which
| moves us all to moods curious and
| strange: He is a lover; a pretty mad one,
/ too, l fancy; men of his stamp always
are. Disappointed too, tonight of seeing
his Charlie. His? His? Never! if |
can work my plans successfully. Say
rather m!ne.my Charlie-my precious
| my beautifully
At this point he turned hastily and
| walked into the house. Charlie had been
! giving her stepmOther a long account of
| her new-found friend, Ellen Weston.
| Like all large-souled people, feeling that
she had been hard and cruel, she could
! not now make sufficient atOnement. So
| she told of her beauty, of her sweetness,
| Of her brave outlook at her own sad fate,
etc, etc. And Annie listened absorbed
| and pleased. Like all timid, shrinking
I creatures, she loved what was brave and
strong, and, when Charlie would pause q
moment, would ply her with questions
like an eager child. But they were in
( terrupted all too soon. Mrs. Beltham
| came in, and, after very tenderly arrang-
! ing the pillows, turned to Charlie and
said:
MY dear, your uncle Albert wants to
| see you about a little matter of business.
he says. Go down on the porch and
| will stay with Annie"
Very reluctantly the girl got up and
obeyed. She felt neglected and blue, and
! cd nd in fr I,
guardian but, thinking he really wanted
to see her about some necessary matter of
business, she ran quickly down and out
into the porch. She could just distinguish
his tall figure in the starlight leaning on a
white pillar of the cOlOnnade.
Il want you little while, Charlie" he
said, advancing towards her. 'Shall we
go into the sitting-rOOm?'
sob no; like this better" she replied,
! carelessly.
"And so do II he said, sitting near
her. Did you leave my mother with An
ME? p
Certainly; should not have left her
alone"
There was a long pause after this-so
long, indeed, that Charlie, who was by no
means in the best of humOr, said a little
shortly:
Grandmother said you wanted to speak
| TO me, sir.'
$50 l do, Charlie, but l had almost
rather die than do it."
"GOod gracious me! Then why do it ~
! Because l should be Sinking my duty
/ to the living and the dead if / turned
back because the right path lay through
! thOrns.'
"Oh dear, how heroic that soundsv'
"Charlie, | entreat you to be IN earnest;
| my task is so painful!"
Il am sufficiently in earnest"
! Another long pause. At last he spoke
| again:
''My dear girl, how do you like your new
! acquaintance, Miss West0nW
Il like her we'll; uncOmmonly we'll"
I Mr.. Beltham sighed deeply.
slave you ever asked Mr.. Fearne his
| opinion of herr"
''No.n
81 only ask because they are such old,
| old acquaintances.'
! In the darkness the color rapidly for
/ SOCK poor Charities. cheeks and lipe, but
/ in quiet sort of self-cOmmuning way:
He knew her in Europe. She was an
/ actress then, By the way, what a charm
! ing, acknowledging person she is!
! should like to know her myself. / sup
/ pose she viii live always at your
uncle's?"
II suppose So"
/ Charles voice sounded strangely hard
! ana cold.