Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1885-08-19

answer do 1 vouchsafe to her, but /
turn at once and begin strict watch.
This, then, is the secret of his staying
J always by her side. The fiend jealousy
! Is rampant. Never have hated man
as hate MacPhoole.
But | will see for myself. Every
look, every expression of hers will |
mark. Can she love HIM, a wind bag,
red haired Radical Scotchman? But
no, | comfort myself, after careful
study of his hateful face; that would be
impossible.
Suppose the ever to be accursed mon
ster has given an unwilling, helpless
maiden to him? This is too likely.
Wildly do | make plans for rescuing a
captive damsel from the foul enchanter.
No knight errant was SO truly pledged
TO ones service and one mistress as |.
None of them ever burned so valiently
against oppression.
L meet glance from Evelyn's eyes,
which. read by the light of this new
idea, says: Deliver me. My heart burns
fiercely with scorn and rage against
Duncan Rufus MacPhoole.
And yet perhaps Mrs. Latimer was
wrong afteB all. Reports are always
false. But still she always knows every
scrap of gossip, and is generally right.
At this moment he is handing Eve
lyn menu card. My jealous eyes eager
ly look to see if their hands linger in the
exchange. Yesl Surely he might have
lOoSed the card quite half second be-
fore he did. l scowl with neffetual
rage.
By this time the fish has gone away,
and | have not spoken to Miss Fortes-
cue yet. Here she takes the matter into
her own hands.
81 have bought new pug" she says,
''and Evelyn is coming tomorrow to
see it. or course you admire pugs?"
How is it every one can read my
precious secret SO plainlyp | have never
mentioned 1t to any one but Chalmers.
Without the slightest hesitation or
compunction do perlure myself by de-
claring to her, basely and untruly, that
| adore pugs, whereas there is nothing
] hate so much, except, perhaps, Mac
Phoole ard the monster.
For fully five minutes | talk to her
out of pure gratitude.
Then fancy hear MacPhoole say,
Trevor" and he and Evelyn beth
laugh. L long for the old times when
a look. a tone, was proyocatiOn enough
for a quarrel. Would that my foot
were on the neck of the enemy! Gladly
would spring to claim my bride over
the reeking bodies of the monster and
Mac Phoole.
With feverish persistence | watch
every movement of Evelyn's. A flower
in the front of her gown becomes loose.
She takes it off and lays it on the table
McPhoole picks it up plays with it a
moment, appears to make one of his
slckening jokes on it, and finally sticks
it in his button-hole. How l restrain
myself dont't know. | long. L burn,
to punish him as he deserves. But some
last remaining sparks of sanity keep me
in my place. Jealousy has always been
my bane, but never, never have | suf-
fered the agonies l now endure.
You aren't bit like yourself to-
night. Mr.. Trevor" lisps Mrs Lati-
mer; ''you have hardly spoken to me-"
say something don't know what.
II thought. perhaps, you were think
ing of some difficult case?"
The youngest, the most playful KIT
ten can scratch. l am brlehess barris
ter! Not that there is the slightest
doubts the briefs will pour in some day,
only-the shower has not begun yet.
Having seen her little SHAFT pierce
home, the innocent, babyish thing goes
on: Aren't there some stories about
the old chambers you men live in?''
tell her one of the stories that made
Mr.. Pickwick's blood run cold, clothed
in my most narrowing language, well
suited to my gloomy state of mind.
Her sweet smiling, artificial face
as tell the story, but as finish she
says, with little shrug: "Those ghast-
ly creepy stories are rather bad form,
aren't theyl"
Evelyn and Mac Phoole are talking all
the time. Why on earth can't he speak
to the girl on the other side of him?
Doesn't the fellow know that common
politeness forbids him to monopolze his
hostessr If only / could have kept my
place at the end of the table!
The glare of the lights, the rattle, the
chatter of my overwhelming rage de-
spair and jealousy, make me quite sick.
81 think there is going to be a thun-
der Storm" says Miss Fortescue: 81
can see the lightning through the cur
tain, and L am ashamed to say ain
afraid of it,"
"Why?" say, moodily. 81 shouldn't
care if were killed, should your"
''I would rather live than die," she
returns slowly.
Evidently she thinks am mad. Per-
haps L am. feel like it.
| am consumed with impOtent rage. |
The trammels of polite society bind me |
down. | may not rush away. L may |
not poison MacPhOOle's wine, or stab |
him; and either of the last two would |
be unmixed joy to me. But the very |
thought of acts so cOngenial brings COM
fort TO my bloodthirsty soul | revel III
CORY dreams. Alas for the days when
men won their brides by the shedding
Of bloOdl Those were the times to live
in. WHAT is man now but phlegma-
tic animal, laborious and luxurious,
to circumstances | am out
af all patience with my times.
Just as l reach this point there is a
oud clap of thunder, followed by
vivid fash of lightning.
Evelyn starts violently, and Mac
Phoole lays his hand on hers, with
which she has clasped the edge of the
able.
Mad, unable to contain my jealous
age, L sprang wildly from my chair.
How dare hep
1t all passes In instant.
Evelyn draws away her hand. Some
me. l believe it is Miss Fortescue,
ouches my arm. L sunk into my seat,
bind, choking with passion.
Somehow haven't the least idea
low-Mrs. Latimer's glass has over
urned, and tfe wine is running all over
Ter gown. Very likely it is my doing.
have enough sense left to offer my
o,y;oac and Tankvns rnShpS To the