Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1885-04-30

the shadows and says, in a voice the like
of which Harold never heard before, it is
so low, and soft, and musical, cam I the un-
happy person who has disappointed Dulce"'
Dulce is laughing, with keen apprecia-
tion of Harold's mental condition, and says,
brightly: "Oh, that is so like you Harold.
Yes, this is Miss Mars-Helen, this is Har-
old. He hasanother name, and it Desmond,
but no one calls him anything but Harold"
''Then of course I shall do the same as
every one else," says Miss Mars, decidedly,
and lays slim, soft hand in Harold's.
Then they all sit down quite cozily and
laugh at Harold's blunder, and Dulce plans
all sorts of festivities in Miss Mars honor,
and Harold finds himself listening for that
soft, strange voice, and wishing she would
speak oftener. How many times after his
thoughts went back to that first evening.
The silvery moonlight over the house and
grounds, Dulce's merry chatter, but, more
At last Dulce says, "Let us 90 into the house,
and you will sing us one song, Helen you
are tired, but you will sing just one?" and,
Miss Mars asserting, they 90 up the steps
and across the wide veranda, into the draw
ing room.
As vet Harold has had but the most
shadoWy view of Miss Mars figure, and as
they enter the lighted room he looks at her
with pardonable curiosity as to what man.
ner of woman this may be. She was ex-
quisitely lovely both in face and forn. She
had transparent, colorless skin, like the
petals of narcissus. She had oriental eyes
of blue black, which looked immensely large
in her delicate face. She had slender feet
-nnccpccinn
which gave her almost an air of distinction
and made her seem out of place among
Dulce's bric-a-brac, canary birds, and house
plants. She was like picture, with her
soft, pale-gold hair coied low down on her
neck in high art fashion. Like soft har-
mony in black and gold she was, with her
filmly robes clinging closely round her and
the old gold, like tarnished yellow, touch
ing her here and there.
She goes to the piano and sings. The
song was all about soldier and q knot OF
ribbon, and there was little wall of "adieu''
and heartache through it which Harold
knew she did feel, but still he felt unreason-
ably sorry for her. She gives him her hand
again as he is going, and ne carries the thrill
which the touch Of her fingers brings long
after Dulce's tender kiss in dark corner Of
the veranda is forgotten.
"Is she not lovely?" says Dulce, and
"very" is the concise answer she receives,
at which she wonders nightly, and thinks
/ Harold strangely blind.
/ !; The long, sweet summer days go by and
each one finds Harold Desmond with Dulce
and her guest. Oftenest with Miss Mars
now, for Dulce has gradually dropped out
Of their excursions. my household cares
are many" she would say, and sometimes
now they forget to ask her, but would set
off, Harold laden with Miss Mars easel,
camp chair, color box, and all the artists
paraphernalia she affected.
This afternoon they are all together un.
they are cool and comfortable. Miss Mars,
in a wicker chair, with her long primrose
satin and soft muslin drapery about her, is
looking more than usually lovely.
lam really getting fat absolutely, down
[ right fat" she says, attentively regarding
one perfect hand and arm and holding it up
for inspection. "There is something SO re-
pulsive about that word 'fat,' something SO
gross and commonplace and so disgustingly
suggestive of the butcher and the grocer's
boy" she continues as she slowly waves a
large fan back and forth to coax some re-
freshing breeze to her fair face.
"But a judicious quantity of the real arti-
Gle is immensely becoming" says Dulce,
panse of lavendar muslin and lace about
her; "iust look at Helen and see what our
country air has done for her. Why, upon
my word, her cheeks are as pink as mine
are they not, Harold ?-and it is vastly be.
coming"
Eyes, shall resemble dairy-maid in nc
time whatever" says Miss Mars, with a low
laugh and glance at Harold. "It is your
close and impolite scrutiny, Dulce, that has
brought the tardy bushes to my cheeks"
Harold is lying full length on the grass and
has not taken his eyes from Miss Mars flow.
er-like face for longer time than perhaps
gaze, and lets her eyes meet his occasionally
for an instant before her white lids fall.
miss Mars will never look like a dairy.
maid," says Harold, slowly. "She will
never be anything but white and delicate
looking; not fit to meet the hard, rough
edges Of life"
"Bess me" cried Dulce. "IfI eat pickles
and slate-pencils and get nice, and sallow,
and bony, will you say those. pretty things
to me, Harold? But" with a profound
sigh, II am always so extensively we'll, there
seems to be no chance of my having a nice
lingering illness.
Dulce is not looking like her happy self.
Her eyes are heavy and have dark rings be-
full nights; but she is always in the gayest
spirits, and Harold and Helen are strangely
blind.
Miss Mars rises from her rocker with Ian
guild grace and draws on her long, loose, tan
colored gloves, cheerfully., II am going
into Craigmair Wood" she announces. ut
cannot we'll be warmer there, and 1 have a
fancy that the shadeis deeper. Come, Dulce,
and we will stay until evening and Harold
shall have our tea sent out to US there"
Obedient to her mandate they rise, and
Harold unfurls Miss Mars lace paras0l and
holds it carefully over her, while Dulce fol-
lows with laughter on her lips, but some
thing very like tears in her eyes.
The long. hot day is over at last, and the
glaring, burning sun has sunk out OF sight.
But with the deepening shadows come no
cooling breezes; the air is hot and close, and
a feeling of oppression is over everything.
There is dull bank of clouds against the
horizon, but overhead the stars are shining
bright and clear.
BY the side of little stream that flows
through Cragmair, Harold and Dulce are
and rosy lips now. Her face is all lead
en- white, and there is a drawn look about
the mouth that has taken away all the
pretty curves and dimples. She seems
somehow much older, and thinner, and
weaker than the Dulce of an hour ago.
He is holding both her hands against his
breast and speaking rapidly.
"Dulce! Dulce" he is saying, "what can
you think of one who is so false aS l . / did
not mean to love her. | fought against it
enough, God knows, but from the first it
was no use. Many and many times have
l vowed to go away and break my own