The Penn's Grove record., 1884-12-06

ABOUT Il week dllcl Wdius L WIS Ilu-
ing home through G~ressbrook, when, as
| passed the post. Office, the post-mistress
stepped out and handed me a letter.
"For the young lady, if you please,
sir she desired me neyer to send her
letters by the carrier. This has been
lying here since yesterday morning, and
she has not come for it so perhaps you
would take it,"
InYoluntarily | connected Esme's
letter with her morning walks, and re-
membering that on one occasion she
had not wished for my company, L de-
termined to leave the letter and not APP
pear to know anything OF 1t.
Bob and | went out n day for a
row up the river. 1t was dusk as we
were returning, and Bob va lying at
full length along the cushions, asleep,
as l supposed. After a while, tired
with rowing, l drew in the SOULS and
let the boat drift along with the tide.
Presently it approached one OF the
banks, Just where, two summers before,
we had built u little rustic wooden
house. The door was open, and there,
engaged in earnest conversation, stood
Esme. l recognized the tall graceful
| figHre in a moment and L knew the
dress too. Her companion was stand
ing back in the shade. | saw that he
was bending eagerly towards her.
They had not noticed our approach ;
so l guided the boat noiselessly away
again, and we were 500 hidden from
their view by the oyerhanging trees.
| Then | turned to look at Bob, in the
hope that he was still asleep ; but his
eyes were wide open and, looking me
straight in the face, he announced
calmly
"Never mind, Harry, old fellow
saw it too -; but she need not know that
either of us passed"
'Do you mean to say" l cried hotly,
aggravated at his apparent GOODNESS,
'that YOU were awake, and never got
out of the boat to see who that fellow
was ?"
He turned on me in a minute, all fire
and animation now.
81 mean to say that l have a pretty
good idea already as to who IL is, and
that, If things are as | suspect, she
cares more for him than she does for
me and there Is III end of the matter. y
We reached the landing place and
moored the boat in silence, and in 81
lence we walked up to the house. As
we reached the shruDbery, Bob laid his
hand on my arm.
Remember, IIarry-not a word of
this to any one"
Not a word,"I answered.
Then we went into the house and
all that evening Bob kept every II in
roars of laughter by his jokes and queer
speeches. All the next day he was
away from home and when he came
back in the evening, he did not seem to
have a very full account to give of his
proceedings. Late that night, when
Tom vas snoring away, l heard the
door of the room open softly, and Bob
stepped in.
"Harry Powell ?"
"Are you awake ?''-"Hes . WHAT'S
wrong 2"
"Hush ! Don't waken Tom. Harry,
| have found out all about it, and il is
as l thought. To think that she must
have been caring for him all these
months, while L thought her love was
all my own ~
"Who is it ?" I asked in a whisper.
'"The very last man in all the world
that l should have supposed capable of
a dishonorable action ~
you don't mean Rue's friend, Sir
Arthur Trench? That pretty little sis
ter of his used to be a great deal with
Esme this summer"
mo, no, it is not he. But listen to
what L have to say, Harry"
"Stopl must know whom it is you
suspect. You don't" l stopped,
half afraid to finish the sentence. "You
don't think It's-Rue 2"
81 do not Think Know" he said,
shaking his head sadly. "Let us say
NJ more about that now, What | want
to tell you is this. heard two or three
days ago from a friend Of mine in Lon
don. He wants me to go and stay some
time with him and / am going to-
morrow morning by the first train. l
shall be gone before any of them are up;
so you must say that | made up my
mind very suddenly. must be think
ing of returning to India next January.
Perhaps | may CONF down here again
for a few days, and perhaps not. In
any a S remember that Esme is your
charge as long as she lives here"
care you not going to see her before
you go 2"
"NO. don't think I shall ever see
her again. Goodbye p-and he was
off.
Every one was astonished the next
morning to find that Bob had run away
during the night. And | had nothing
to tell them, except that he had come
into my room to say that he had &C
ceptsd his friends invitation, and was
going.
He had been gone nearly a month,
and had never written a word to any of
us. Poor little Esmel How quietly
she sat every morning in the drawing
room window, pretending to read, while
| knew she was only watching for the
postman. My mother was angry with
Bob and, through yexatiOn at him and
Rue, though he attributed his illness TO
the damp weather, my father got thor
oughly knocked up.
ChCo SllCC Don went | hu6W lIdI
Esme had met Rue-if Rue it really
was. What wa to be done, or whittier
things were tending, | could not see.
Between them both, Esme had lost all
her yivacity and animation, and seemed
pale and llstless they had made my
father i'll and had nearly worried my
mother to death; and, as to themselves,
did not doubt that they were both on
the high-road to destruction.
81 never did see such a pair !" | NUT
tered, throwing a fresh log upon the
fire,
well, We are rather gOOd-loOklng
certainly, "remarked Tom c~omplaeently
he was kneeling before Esme, holding
a skein of red worsted while she wound
1t. Il wish | could succeed in throw
ing myself into themelodramic attitude
that Rue used to assume in similar cir
cumstances. Is that any better, do yoC
think. Esme ?"
"Oh, yes, much Poor Rue ! In.
deed | wish he were here himself TO
give you a lesson"
"Halloal Three O'Clock, aud | pro-
nnfqA1 tn Raaaf 9nu... I'm - H.Ef .v.uf