Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1885-04-19

81 am getting too old. you know,
George" with wan, WinTy attempt at a
smile.
You are only nineteen"
81 think" sadly, "that we must all
have made a great mistake, and / am
really n hundred.O
There is several minutes silence, and
then he says, humbly; 81 can see now,
Phyllis, how hopeless it is to want YOU to
love me. Forgive me, dear, for having
ever tormented you; but l loved YOU so
madlY. | win not prosecute you any
more. 1t is mol that 1 love you less, but 1
pity YOU"
at is for you to forgive me, George
softly. "Nou have a noble nature" striv-
ing to make her voice calm. 81 know
you now as I never knew you. l could
nave loved you, perhaps, if
Don't Phyllis, don't. You break my
beartr'
Her only answer is burst Of tears.
Winter gives place to a sad, wet spring,
and white, patient Phyllis moves about
her fathers house and farm, never smil-
ing, never singing, never complaining. 1t
Wrngs Georges true heart to see her so
changed, so gently and patiently bearing
her burden.
He is going to Australia, and con-
stantly goes up to London, making neces-
sary arrangements.
One March morning. when six weary
months nave dragged themselves on since
that glorious September, she is going into
the garden to gather the peepng prim-
roses. AS She passes the open door of the
farm house p8rlOr she is arrested by hear
ing Georges voice within. She thought
he was in London.
GAY, dead,' he is saying, in hushed
tones of awe; "0ead as a stOne."
What is this heavy sinking at her hearth
Why should it have to do with her? She
pauSes, irresOlute, moment, and then,
with trembling steps and CHASTITY, un-
reasonable torebodIngs, she enters the
room.
"Poor childl' says her father. for he sees
her white, drawn face. Then you nave
heardY'
''Heard?0 she almost gasps. "Wlat,
father"'
George says, brokenly: "a terrible ac-
cident has happened TO the night train
from London-the tram | came by and
he hesitatcs.
"Wellf" she says, with desperate calm
ness. "GO on,' She leans heavily on The
table.
lie turns away his head that he may
not see her. "lbere We're many people
hurt, snd-Mr. Chesnoy was killed"
50. knew It'll } knew itl' she cries tri-
umphautly. Gle was coming TO me.' A
glad light comes ON her white face for one
moment, aud then her sorrow PUSHES on
her. ARTHUR" slowly aud sadly, 81
shall come TO yOu."
And then, with a pititul cry that strikes
terror to both their loving hearts, ene falls
TO sac ground.
She does not guess, and George cannot
ten her, that there was with him a fair
girl, two days bride-Lady Florence.
But she does not die. She lives "a sweet,
sad little Phy Ills, not quite 50 childllke as
before. AS days go on that wOndrous fort
night lives in her memory as a happy
tairy-li&e dream.
Nearly two years have gone by since
Phyllis said goOd-hy to George. She
sits in the glow Of the setting September
sun. A tiny slip of printed paper is in
ner hand.
81 have kept it so long" she murmurs,
halt aloud. "Shall ! destroy itl | think
! Will-no." She hears fOotstep on the
gravel, and instincuVelY brushes it into
her pocket. She raises her head and sees
two loving eyes fixed on her.
"Georgep With a joyous cry she springs
toward MIN, holding out both hands The
traveller presses them gently, and then re-
leases them,
eyes, George" he says; "the wanderer,
George"
"You must be very tired,'' the kindest of
maidons retorts; "sit here by me-"
81 never wish TO leave this spot again.,
the weary man says, with tWO-fold mean
ing, which his little cousin clearly sees.
''And now" she commands him, "tell
me all about Australia"
about yourself first, little Phyllis" he
says, the same as ever.
Swell the very first thing worth tell
Of3 oh haaifafna-
agO"-she shyly glances at him and gives
him a little bit Of crumpled paper.
George reads the account Of the mar
rage OF Lady Florence Chesuey, the
young widow of Hon. Arthur Chesney,
who was killed in railway accident
two days after his marriage. lie re-
turns it,
eyes Phyllis he says in a low voice,
not looking at her.
ell am not a child any mOre," she
murmurs, with aYerted head.
"Fhank Godv George SAYS, earnestly.
The air seems brighter and the birds sing
more sweetly.
There is silence for some minutes, and
then she SAYS, with saucy glance; "And
do you still hate mep'
'sI1ate you'll ! never hated you. 1t would
be impOsstbleV
Assured Of this fact, she goes on more
comfortably. 81 treated you very UNI
kindly, George" lie would begin an ami
mated denial, but she waves her hand
and continues: "Hut really, you know,
you were dreadfully sOlemnp
ssYes,v he admits with a Sigh, 81 was n
fool TO expect you TO care for such sober
fellow AZ / am.v
I-I think I am a little more sober
now" she says, in the sweetest little
whisper.
He assents TO this, but Is far too sim
pie and straightward TO perceive what
is opened 70 him by these gentle insinua-
tiOns.
'sWas there ever anything go stupid As
manW she asks herself. She taps her
foot impatiently on the gravel, and he
ieasts his eyes, unchecked, on her lovely
face.
cit was leap year last year" she re-
marks at last, with some emphasis and
much meaning.
"Yes," says simple George, 81 believe
10 WASP
She is silent, and ne is too happy for
speech. Then, allow much do you like
me nowY' she asks, with much innocence;
'as much as thatY holding her hands
about yard and a half apart.
CHOW much do you Ike meW guard
edly.
"Just az much as you do mo"
"ThaVs impossible" the unconscious
lover says, in q tone Of deep conviction.
81 don't know" retOrts Miss Phyllis,
meditatiYeiy, resting her chin in her
hand.
suddenly she turns her blushlng face
20 him. "Why did you come homer she
asks. "Was it,
Even ho can road tvbat hor Iovfnu evas