Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-08-23

engaged a guol-tcmpercd, handy Bavarian
servant. and settled down to that quiet
cain lie which she nad IN her letters to tho
Taberts described herself ~ living.
These letters were sent under cover to a
friend Of Mrs Miller',, who posted them in
London. As English stationery can be pro-
cured on the continent as easily rs every.
thing else that Is English, the letters CON
veyel no information which could hr used
to discover the retreat. Beatrice dreaded
sending them; she feared that some unfore-
seen slip connected with them might dis
close her abode. But it seemed so unkini
not to let her unclcs know she was alive and
wen. She did not write 10 her father. She
fancicd her proceedings would not trouble
him much, and fclt sure that any letter sent
to him would run the gauntlet of Lady
Clauson's uuNind comments, She trusted to
Horace aud Herbert TO let him know all that
they knew.
Beatrice made few, If any, chance nc
luaiutanceS Some people never do. Just
ss there are men whom other m'n never
think Of asking for n cigar light. so are thcro
women to whom other women do no. make
the first advances. Beatrice, with her re-
served but polite manner, classical features
and distinguished hearing no doubt con-
veycd the idea that she was a stat not TO be
encroached upon withoJ the passport of an
Introduction.
So for society she tad her boy and her
faithful slave, Mrs. Miller.
However much mother may love her
child, she is not blamed If she finds that his
constant company does not give all the
pleasure the world can give. However
faithful and intelligent servant may be,
the mistress may with clear conscience
look beyond her for a companion.
So Boatrice's life grew once more dismal
and culorless. So much so that under its
present conditions the late life at Halle
wood House, when contras;cd with it.
seemed a Wild round of variety and dissipa-
ton.
She had her books and hnr music. but she
had no one with whom to discuss the books,
no one to listen to her music. She took les
sons IN painting from one of the thousand
artists i'll the great art center, Munich but
this was but an aii to kill time and unbro-
ken with any ambitious aim She had her
thoughts. These she Stunned rs much as
possible II seemed to her that there was
nothing upon which she could look back
with pleasure nothing to which She could
look forward with hope. She of,cu recalled
CarTuthers' assertion that in spite of manner
she must have some dream OF happiness, and
she sighed a she thought that now less than
ever did life show any joy of which she even
Jared to dream.
Beatrice was sitting one afternoon in the
room she called her studio She was alona
and in deep thought. She bad just tin she'd
one Of her periodical letters TO her uucles.
1t was lying near her. directed bat not scaled.
Beatrice was wrestling with the temptation
of sending a message to Frank. She could
not bear TO picture him thinking her cold
and heartlcsS. Should she add a line TO her
ietteri Should she even write him lctteri
But what could She say TO him. Nothing
absolutely nothing! Besides, provided he
had not yet learned the truth, the most CON
ventional message from her would raise
hopes never 10 be r'aliza1. Poor Frank! why
did he learn to love her: Why did she love
him. No, not that, She was harpy that
she loved m; that she mad found the power
of loving and trusting still hers. Nc, hope
less as such love wa, she rejDi iced that sue
could love such man as Frank. But no
word. no mess &c must be seat.
ut is a part Of tn, price | must pay for
my folly she Spid as she scaled her letter
Her eyes were tull Of tears 0s sne did so.
Mrs. Miller entered and saw her emotion.
"My sweet, my dear" she said, what is
it, There Is no fresh trouble"
None, the old one /, enough" said Bea.
trice Mrs. Miller looked AZ her ,oEaitou~lv.
You are thinking Of the man who loves
you she aid soothnglv.
YES said B,atricc with recovered COM
posure. "Ecs, am Shrinking that I may
have wrecked his life as well "a my own"
NO no. my poor dear. 1t will come
right Tcu will be happy-he will he
happy
Beatrice smiled hopeless smile.
1T will be-it is written continued Mrs.
Miller. Nothing can change it. Gods
arm is net shortened. His purp sa--'
Beatrice checked her sternly. Sine, Sa-
rahs outbreak in the train all signs Il fan
atic.sm had bael at once rcpressrI by B a.
trice. My letter is ready sn, said; lake
1t and direct it To your friend There are
envelopes"
Sarah glanced a her mistress who was
once more deep in thou ght. She took two
envelope and also a stray half sheet of note
paper. Then she went into another room,
and hastily writing fpw words on the pa
per, placed It in an envelope, addressed il.
and inclo.ed it, with Beatricc's letter, in the
packet which was to go to her friend in
London.
Beatrice resumed her painful train of
thought Writing home had made her feel
utterly wrclchcd. 1t was now May; nearly
five months had she been living this dreary
life. and keeping every one in ignorance as
to where she was. How much longer must.
1t go On' She could, Of course leaye Munich
whenever she thought fit, but every other
place would be just as drcary to her Local
ity matters little when a sea OF trouble sur
rounds one, Let a man count up his hap
piest days and he viii find the place in
which he spent them contributed not much
to their happiness Beatrice, who was now
somewhere about twenty y-turee had most
certainly right to expec. some happy DAYS
in this world.
She began to ask her elf the questions
which had recently been framing themselves
.in her mind, Had she after all acted in tho
wisest wayf Was her lite to be quite marred
by that one act of folly; Ii sbe turned and
firmly grasped her nettlc, would tho sting
lie fatal, or even more than sne could baart
She was, like m st of Us, blending of con
tradictions. She was WISE and foolish: brave
and timid; proud and humble, as pressure
OF circumstances forced her to be. She he.
gan to loath tins hiding, this shrinking into
corners, Could she ne"ve herself To come
forth and face the worst.
What was the worst The worst was her
dread Of losing her child What II she wrote
to Horace and He bert and told them every.
thing, begged them TO forgive the harmless
deceit which she had practicad: intreated
them to see this man and make such terms
as they couldf Might she not. when they
had assured her security AMI peace, face
such scorn as the world would throw heri
Then she began TO wonder If Hervey had
revealed the truShf If her father, Lady
Clauson-here she shulderei her uncles
knew that she was this mans wife. Al
though she had just been solving to make
1t known to them, the thought of their being
in possession Of the knowledge was horrible
to her. Yet all this while they might have
known it--might have heard il from Her.
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