Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1885-03-14
NURSE EVA.
By THE DUCHESS y
fConcluded,l


(Concluded.)
1t is year and half later, ant
| Christmas eve. There is no suspicion
of invalidisnlsabout the tall handsom,
young man who, sitting in first-clas
| carriage, with rather bored expires
sion on his face, is being whirleC
swiftly northward. He had checked
his journey by spending one day il
Edinburgh, and had felt it dull in the
extreme. Even now, when he is has
tening ON to Aberdeen, the stupidity O
his lonely stay there has not quite
wcrn Oft But he is always dull now
he tells himself, with disdainfuI
shrug of his broad shoulders, and
grows moodier and moodier, until his
journey coming TO an end, he finds
himself on the chilly platform, with
two cleaning corriage lamps awaiting
HIM. The drive is "a long one, and
bitterly cold. The change from it to
the soft brilliant warmth of a huge
hall, hung with many skins and brist-
ling with antlers, is almost more than
he can endure with fortitude. As in
a dream, he follows the servant across
the hall-rose-lit from two large sha-
ded lamps upon the dark oak stair
case beyOnd-and valiantly suppresses
desire to stay by the huge log-fre
forever.
But the servant mereilessly marches
him onward, and presently he finds
himself in long, low, many-cornered
room full OF people, all more or less
in the reposeiul attitudes that border
upon sleep. There is a soft, sweet
subdued hum of slumberous voices, a
tender tinkling of delicate china, the
music of many spoons. There are no
rose lamps in this room; nothing but
the leapIng light of glorious fire
that renders all things clear as day.
The divan-looking lounges are covered
with tarltan, so are good many of the
men, and only few of them have their
neither limbs covered.
Sir Rawdon, still unthawed, stares
idly round him. There is pretty
girl in a yoluminous armchair, who
mods brightly TO him-Miss Adair;
and another crouched picturesquely
upon the bearskin rug before the fire,
who stops her chatter for an instant to
gaze at him curiously; and
Good heavens! who is that Who
is that sitting over there, with her face,
her figure. the very hands of her.
A slender creature, reclining i'll a
low chair, and clad in an exquisite
tea-gown-all satin and old lace. She
is smiling One arm, half naked, but
mittened to the elbow, is lying grace
fully across the arm of her lounge as
she leans toward her neIghbor; the
other is trifiing idly with a huge white
ian.
Even as Dare gazes at her. SPELL
bound, she laughs, softly, merrily, mt
some remark made to her by her
companion-a red-headed Young
Scotchman. The laugh somewhat re-
stores Sir Rawdon to his senses. Alas
she had never laughed; her lovely face
had always been tinged with deep
melancholy. What madness possessed
him to make him think he saw again
before him the one woman he had
ever loved-the only one he ever
should love? And to dream of meet
ing her here, OF all places! A hospital
nurse as guest at The Towers, in that
gown, that
"Dear Sir Rawdon, so glad" says
his hostess-a tall handsome woman
at this moment, coming languidly for
ward with smile and a graceful ges-
ture. $50 nice to see you again"
Sir Rawdon murmurs something
to the effect that he is positively over
powered with Joy at the idea of seeing
her again; bat his words sound vague
and unmeaning-to himself, at least
and his eyes are not his own to deal
with; they wander incessantly to the
low chair and its lovely occupant, and
will not be controlled. Who is the
owner of that tea-gown
"I think you know everybody"
says Lady Dalruth, at the end of
long sentence, not one word of which
he heard.
Not quite all. have not the hap
piness of knowing your pretty friend
on the hearth.rug or-or the lady in
the low chair over there"
"No? Well, time will cure that. The
latter is my cousip, Miss Monteith.
You would like to be introduced to
her? Come, then"
Evelyn, dear, let me introduce to |
you Sir RawdOn Dare she says mo- |
ment later.
Miss Monteith, turning slowly, lifts
her eyes fully to Sir Rawdon's, and |
after a calm, comprehensive glance, |
makes him the very faintest salutation |
If he had ever seen this girEbefore,
It is certain that she shows nor recog-
nition of ever having seen him. There |
is no surprised start, no falntest blush,
no betraying paller Her little bow is |
cold in the extreme, but nevertheless |
civil. She answers his rather agitated |
remark with the utmost compOsure; it |
is some ordinary thing about the beau
ty of the scenery round, and hardly |
requires any acknowledgements save
bare "yes," to which she confines her |
self. If, indeed, some wild freak of |
Fate had suddenly changed the Nurse |
Eva-for whom he has been so per-
searching during all these |
stately repellent girl before him, she |
IS so clad in an impenetrable armor OF |
reserve that he cannot pierce it.
And, after all, is it she? Could even |
Fate play such trick? Is not ail this !
rather some cruelty OF his imagination, |
born of his long dwelling on one en-
crossing desire9
Once or twice during the evening |
ne tried TO speak to her; but though |
shealways answered him very gently, |
still her manner was SO cold as to |
check on every occasion further con-
Versation.
Dropping into the background after |
a last defeat, he finds himself faeiose to |
IN old beau. a certain Sir Harry Loune, i
who is well known to everybody and |
to whom everybody is known.
"Wouldn't look at you, chr SAYS this
old gentleman, with chuckle. "Den't |
take that to heart; more thanyou hive |
got the same tale to tell. She won't |
look at any one, not even at the best |
p0rtis Pretty. isn't she? Good form, |
ah Thing of the season next year,