Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1885-04-11
voioe sound jaunty but she is beginning to be
afraid of him, and his grip has frightened on her

wrist.
"George, George" in a trembling voice, "don't
swear, because cannot marry you.''
II have your promise. You are bound in
She stands perfectly STILL and her face is fixed
and white. With cruel delight he watches her
distress n, and misery: Jealousy has changed the
breath.
SIT is that confounded painted popinjay that
Poor George! His wrongs are many.
IL possible she becomes whittier than before.
and her hand trembles in his grasp "Mr.
Ch 1,s a. Is gentleman" she says pointedly,
your'-with ineffable scorn. Never! Not to
save your life: What is a promise, compared
with whole life Of misery, as mine would be,
myself"
She trembles violently, and can scarcely COM
Take care don't kill you firstr' he cries bit
t hy ~ don't know whether love you or
He looks more like a fiend than man, so
contorted with passion is his face
She recoils from him in horror. He filings her
hand roughly away from him. With mortified,
fascinated eyes still fixed on him she goes
slowly backward to the gate. Once through
she runs till she can run no more, and then
SINKS In rustic seat in a passion Of terrified
weeping.
She knows not how long it is afterward,
learned to love SO we'll exclaims.
Arthur Chesney throws away his cigarette,
ana ana comes to her side. He tries to remove her
Who has made my pretty Phyllis cry?'' he
ASKS tenderiy, smoothing her gold-brown hair.
between her sobs
What did he say to you, poor little Phyllis?"
He-he was very angry with me, because he
tears run afresh. "And know" miserably.
II nave been doing very wrong this last fort
He does not speak.
And he-he says he will force me to marry
"Well?" almost coldly. Is the girl cum
nights amusement? or is she innocent and only
unhappy?
Ing her miserable loving little face
Her tears her loveliness, and the passion of
the moment, carry him beyond the bounds of
"Phyllisr' he suddenly cries, framing her
sweet, tear.stalned face in his hands. phyllis,
The lovely timid eyes confess what he knows
80 well. The color floods her delicate face, and
f ner lips CULVER Never has she looked SO lovely:
he catches her to his heart, and showers kisses
on her burning face.
ing her soft cheek ft Was Wort hnyin s'r Va
cry 1Or the pleasure of comforting you. Now
let me look at you. Why, you aren't the same
"Of course I'm not" shyly raising her glorious
eyes shining with newborn happiness and love,
,"And why arnt your" He has never dreamed
she was SO charming
Now know you care for me-" she says in
genuopsIy; II don't feel the same person at all.
my sweetest Phyllisw
I'm sure I'm not Phyllis! must pinch my
She pinches her soft, round arm, and all the
RED blood comes running to the spot to see what
can possibly be the matter.
fOndlv hiS linz tn fIo ar
shan't allow you to hurt yourself" he says
Nothing can hurt me-now.'' she answers
softly, with a cOntented little sigh looking up
to him with perfect faith.
Those gentle, trustful eyes pierce to his very
heart Who is he, to ruin her fair young life?
Half an hour later he bids her goodbye, and
watches her run up the garden and disappear
into the old farm house, after waving him a
happy, loving farewell.
"What brute 1 am" he SAYS enduring a
pretty sharp prick Of conscience, as he walks
away aS w. "a perfect brute, to go and leave her
q match ready for me with Lady Florence
Fly I'm not rich enough to marry as like. AS
or at the Towers And now, suppose, t
must go away at once; and yet, she is so sweet
and bewitching. No name on earth is too bad
for mer'
But he does not 60 away at once. He stays
yet other three days" happy days spent with
stihed; and then he goes to stay with Lady
Florence at the Towers.
He feels the most despicable and the mean
sees the love in her trustful eyes, heavy with
ravely-suppressed tears. Though he keeps
saying to ba n ,bs week eek she win
forget him; and he cannot be sorry for it, be-
couse the foundation-stone OIL his character is
vanity, and vanity the coping-stone.
The days go by and become weeks. Weeks
lengthen into months.
.o Each 5rt Sunday she whispers bravely to her.
each EACH, Saturday, "Next week he is sure to
Loving, trustful, deserted little PHYLLIS
On Christmas morning she meets the post
man with eager expectation. Surely to-day
she will hear from him. Christmas time is
dedicated TO the memory of absent friends
Alas, no letter; not even little card.
Ihen ne Is coming she murmurs, with
saP sehaeeep9n SO true and simple her
her.
New Years day is here and he has not come.
"Isn't it cold and bitter" She says, shivering,
in such a sad and quiet little voice.
Not cod for p winter time You never used to feel
..Oh, yes; always hated winter"
but You used to run and slide. You never do
with a wan, wintry attempt at a smile.
You are only nineteen"
Il think" sadly, "that we must all have
dred."
There is several minutes silence, and then he
hopeless 1t is to want you to love me. Forgive
me- dear, for having ever tormented you; but /
loved you SO madly. / will not prosecute Won
any more. 1t is not that love you less, but
pity you"
at is for you to forgive me, George" softly.
"You have noble nature" striving TO make
her voice calm. 81 know you now as 1 never
knew you. could have loved you, perhaps,
"Don't, Phyllis, don't. You break nv hearth,
Her only answer is a burst of tears.
Winter gives place to a sad, wet spring, and
q white, patient Phyllis moves about her
fathers house and farm, never smiling never
singing, never complaining. 1t wrings Georges
true heart to see her SO changed, SO gently and
patiently bearing her burden.
He is going to Australia, and constantly
goes up to London, making necessary arrange
mentS.
One March morning, when six weary months
have dragged themselves on since that glorious
September, she is going into the garden to
gather the peeping primrOses. AS she passes
the open door of the farmhouse parlor, she is
arrested by hearing Georges voice within She
thought he was in London.
GAY, dead" he is saying in hushed tones of
awe: "dead as q stone.h
What is this heavy sinking at her heart?
Why should 1t have to do with her? She pauses,
irresolute, moment, and then, with trembling
steps and CHASTITY, unreasonable forebodings,
she enters the room.
"Poor childI' says her father, for he sees her
white, drawn face. "Then you have heard?''
"Heard?" she almost gasps. "What, father"
George says, brokenly: "a terrible accident
has happened to the night train from London
the train came by" and he hesitates
"Well!" she says, with desperate calmness,
"Go on" She leans heavily on the table.
He turns away his head, that he may not see
her. There were many people hurt, and-Mr
Chesney-was killed"
u knew it! 1 knew itp' she cries triumph