The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-07-29
Miss Gray laughs a long, musical, ring.

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part of the sunshine as she sits there in
it, moclzing him.
Perhaps we do avoid putting what
you call our 'hirtatious propensities' into
words; but if you will permit me to say
so, an Englishnan is only too ready to
speak out that which he feels!"
"Do they ever feel anything outside
the hunting-feld and the house of com
mons?" she asks, provokingly.
| He smiles as he looks at her. e1,
Il will tell you some day."
Not long after Coniston rides with
Miss Grey-a long afternoon ride on the
road by the bay, and through the woods
and past the farms busy with the autumn
frlit-gathering.
They chat of commonplace things
the flowers, the birds, the clouds, the blue
of sea and sky, and they come home
soberly enough, too soberly, he thinks.
There is ball that night, the last of
"the season" ConistOn is not dancing
man, so he has the satisfaction of watch
ing Miss Grey floating about the ball
room in the arms of other men-prin-
cipally Bradford. He smokes cigars; he
even goes so far as to drink brandy, and
invoke the image of the reposeful Cicely
all have little effect. He stalks out on
! the piazza, brilliant with lanterns, and
then saunters to the other end, where it
is comparatively dark.
Polly sits there, and Bradford-Brad-
ford!-is bending above her; he even has
her hand; and now he goes in and leaves
her.
Coniston is a madman as he rJIshes into
the other mans place, and leans trem-
blingly over her chair. She is quiet,
silent.
1T is /" he whispers, brokenly.
Il know" she replies, softly.
"Oh, child!" cries he, "you must listen
to me; am good-for-nothing sort of a
fellow; have had no religion, no any
thing, until have known you, and now
you are my shrine. 1t seems to me at
your feet should lay rare spices, per-
fumes, flowers, jewels-and all dare
lay there tonight is human heart-a
human life, Polly" he says, lowly, stoop-
ing his blonde head to hers. will you
have me?"
He sees her face as she upturns it in
the flare of the last lantern; it is as he
has never seen it-pale, stricken, awful,
calm.
"WeI!" she says, at last, with that
clear, bright voice of hers, trifle hard,
trifle matter-of-fact.
"Oh, love you, my soul! my queen!
love you and need you" cries he, over
come by the sight of her pallor.
Il know" she answers, quietly, Il
appreciate, value your love; would not
have it otherwise; 1 should have been
disappointed alwaysif you had not loved
me. Ah!" burying her white face in
her hands, 81 revel in it,"
And he had once thought this woman
cold, superficial, unlikable.
''My darling :" Coniston says, reaching
out his hands for hers.
"But, whispers the girl, drawing away
into her silken wrap, "I-I-am engaged
to be married to Eugene Bradford. I
have been for two yearsl"
Sir Campbell Frazer had arrived from
the west. The Arizona sailed on Tues
day, and both he and the earl of Coniston
were booked on her passenger list.
1t was Monday night midsummer
come again" people said, lounging the
piazzas of the big hotel-warm, sultry,
with great banks of blue-black clouds
lowering above the golden rim of the
west.
Bradford was up in town, detained by
business, as Coniston had discovered.
Miss Grey was sitting at the corner of
the piazza. He went up to her for the
first time since the night of the ball.
MAY 1 sit DOWN."
She looks up assentingly.
Il am going tomorrow in the Ari-
zona."
Il know" she answers, whitening.
He wonders why, and, heaven help
him! he gets up and goes away, when he
would rather far have taken the frail,
vivacious, alert little woman to his
heart.
Presently he saunters back.
Would you take a ride with me to-
night? You know we shall never on
earth see each other again. Would you?"
Her eyes flash, her lips quiver; she
turns the ring on her finger back and
forth.
"Yes," she says, quietly, AZ will get on
my habit and be down presently"
They ride off-off into the green and
silent country lanes where the dew
damps the air, and where the scent of
the homestead fower-gardens mingles
with the breath of the sea as it comes to
them.
They do not talk very much, nor yet
ride fast. The twilight is gathering and
the horses have their way.
Suddenly it grows dark-the blue-black
clouds have crept over all the brightness
of the heavens and hidden the harvest
moon from sight.
A fash-an instantaneous report, and
Polly sees her lover stagger in his seat;
his left arm falls powerless, struck for
ever useless at his side.
She has her horse beside him in an in
slant; she comes close to his side, while
the great raindrops fall FLASHING down
upon them. She takes up the stricken
arm in her soft hands, and presses her
young lips upon it.
"PoIlyl" cries Coniston wildly. do
you love Bradford"
"Oh, no." she says. y5,rsss .yS;fF7s.
"Will you marry me?" @sszssSgs fessSsse,
"Yes," she whispers.
"Now-to-night-th very hour?"
ayes, this very hour, if you wish it?
OH" cries the girl, wildly, Jack, I'll be
good to you. must be, don't you see?
This-this?" She touches his arm as he
tries to guide his horse and hold her to
him, both. %He doesn't need me like
that! and you do; and it is my fault
ought not to have come out tonight
with your
Thank God you didi"
"And," she says, slowly, as they turn
their horses heads, besides, II love
you; is it not stranger"
very. And you will not regret own
ing fellow as-as helpless as 1 am,
Polly ?"
"No," she answers, thoughtfuIly, and
looking at her by the hghtning's frequent
flash, he sees the strength, and warmth,
and tenderness, and love, that he has
need of.
Polly" Coniston says, through the
pelting rain, as they ride back to
Brighton, "it seems to me as if my whole
life had been an interrogation point,
and as if you were the blessed answer to
it."