The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1885-03-04
yen,t permilted msseIf to belIeve il,

III L thought III we're reaIly so.
would drop the affair 1T once. 1t is a
shame that the girl should be led on 50.
when nothing can come of it. =
''Irue; but how are you going to
drop itp''
s'I'll satisfy myself this very day. !
can easily prove the reality Of her SEN
timents, and if it is as you say, Tllleave
here tomorrow.
That afternoon the old ladies once
more speculated upon the chances of a
marriage, as they saw Astor and Sarah
tete-a-tete in the boat, scudding across
to the little island that forms one of the
principal beauties of the lake.
The next day Astor took the early
stage for the depot, a few miles off. and
finished the season at some other wat
ering-place.
Sarah was in despair. She could not
divine this sudden fight of the super
ior Deing,' without apparent reason
and without adieux. Paul Rvder's evil
IDENTIFY mendacious plea of unexpected
business" did not satisfy her; and,
from the appearance of her eyelids, he
Judged that she had acquired habit of
copious and frequent weeping.
It was SO. She had become perfect
ly infatuated, and regarded Courtlandt
as the one sole man in all the wide
world who could make her future hap
by. Her elder sister. alarmed by her
tears and growing paleness, wormed
the secret out of her, and let loose the
f1ood-gates of confidence that Sarah
had hitherto kept hermetically closed.
She behaved like lunatic for half an
hour-that is to say, very absurdly;
and left her sister trembling lest she
should cap the climax with that final
refuge of the greatest fools and wisest
philosophers, felo de Sc.
She did not, however. She quieted
down after the first outburst and piped
away in manner sad enough to see.
There is an episode in Paul Ryder's
life-an experience of his youth, occur
ring perhaps at the age of twenty or.
thereabouts-that | shall some time
make story of 1t is romance of
love and sorrow-the best materials
for all romances-and its effect upon
him accounts for the peculiar bias of
his aimless, easy, good-natured, weary
life.
One evening, while walking upon the
second-story piazza of the hotel, in the
sad purple twilight of the fading Sum-
mer, the eldest Miss Espie caught a
glimpse of the cicatrix that this episode
had left on Paul's heart.
His room opened upon the piazza,
and the window curtains being drawn
aside, Miss Espie accidentally saw into
the apartment. Paul had been con-
templating a run to the city, in few
days, and was packing up some of >his
things preparatory thereto. This nee
essitated the investigation of trunk.
the bottom of which was rarely exam
ined, and the young man had come
across some little trities that lay there
things which he hardly ever looked
at. though they were never forgotten.
A little ebony erucifix, a adaguerreotype,
lock of hair, and two delicate letters,
tied with blue ribbon; things simple
enough in themselves, but wonderful
talismans to bring up the ghost of a
dead past
Over these Paul was lingering:
''As looks father on the things
or his dead son
and Just as Miss Espie's glance fell
upon him, warm, bright, glittering
tear slid slowly down his cheek.
The sight was revelation to her.
She had seen the heart OF this gay,
fippant farceur, and knew that it was
all tenderness and piety within.
Paul RYDER, she thought, lis the
only one who can understand my
sisters sufferings and console her. He,
too, has suffered, and triumphed over
it. He can teach Sarah to do like
wise!''
She told her sister of this incident,
and the poor girl, to whom grief was
new, wept with sympathy. She did
not know how little Paul would have
thanked her, had he been aware of it!
Then, sighing with hope of consola-
tion-pictured to herself the relief she
should find in confiding her woes to
Paul, and the relief she should give
him in listening to his-she sought
him timidly and hesitantly.
As fortune would have it. no circum-
stances could have been more apropos.
It was a splendid moonlight night and
everything was bathed in the silent
beauty of the air. The lake Law like g
mirror under the dark blue sky, across
which fioated pearly clouds. slowly
driven before south wind. Paul, en-
raptured with the beauties of the night
sauntered lazily up and down the
beach, enjoying his cigar and his med
itations to the full.
Sarah addressed him with blush of
maiden modesty and be Immediately
invited her te accompany him in his
stroll-an invitation she readily ac-
cepted.
As thev walked. she led him to speak
OF Courtlandt. Naturally, he tried TO
make her understand the fallacy Of any
hopes she might still entertain in that
direction.
'He is a good fellow said Paul,
'.but too rich. He is never in earnest =
81 know ii, she replied; II soc
how cruelty | have deceived myself.
and no one can know what / suffer ev-
cry day at the penalty Of my blind
ness.
Paul. beginning to feel awakened,
was silent, and she continued:
81 said no one could know my suffer-
ines-I was wrong-there are those
whose hearts have been tried in the
same furnace-they can give me synl-
pathy! Paul, you are one of those. ]
know il. You have loved and lost.
You conceal it well, but not from me.
Oh, Paul, letus confide in each otherl
must express my sorrow or die. And
you--you, too, will find repose if you
pour out your great grief 10 me. | viii
weep for you. Paul, and forget myself
in consoling you; but, oh, heaven,
am very wretched-I need sympathy
SO much-and you must give it to mel
They had stopped on the shore of the
lake, and Sarah had uttered these
words in one torrent with clasped
hands and downcast eyes. As she
looked up, imploringly, at the close,
she saw Paul's face in the clear moon
light, and was startled by its puzzled,
embarrassed. but, withal, cynical ex-
preston.
1T is pity about you, my dear
child, he said, very coolly. using the
last slang phrase. then popularized.
II am sorry, but really, not being very
strong In the weeping line, yau mus