The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-01-17

good and refined would hate him. could
| not possibly like him Oh, what sort OF
| a girl is it who could know what / do and
then like a man only because he is strong. and
graceful, and has IA strange voice ana neauu
| full eyes. Only the worst and most unrehned
| girl could do that. If like him must be as
bad and Indifferent to high things as he Is Am
like that? l cannot bel Oh, mamma-mam-
NAL Oh mamma; how could tell your
always told you everything before! l can tell
| nobody!"
1t became torture before long, 1t was shame,
| it was terror! She heaped reproaches upon her
SELF to her sensitive, untried, girlish mind every
| innocent, involuntary melting towards him,
| every thought assumed the proportions OF
| crime 1T was something wrong in herself. All
this wlckedness she said. had been lying dor
| mant In her nature, and had only waited to De
| called forth by some one like this. Noone could
| be any worse than that She put herself upon
| the rack and showed mercy.
| The little blooming, fowery room grew darker
| and darker. She was quite pale and exhausted
in the end; she was overwhelmed with her own
| reproaches. and yet again and again her heart
would leap as she remembered look-a word ;,
| She stopped at last by the mantel, and stood
| there holding it with her hand.
"He is coarse" she said, with a great effort,
| hurrying the words as she forced them from her
| lips. He is base: he is dishonorable; he is
| coward; he is a-oh, liar! He is false and low
in everything. He is contemplate; he is cruel.
Yes, it is all true. He is not like man at all.
| He is-'
And then some feeling rushed over her-some
| strange, wild protest against it all-stronger
| than herself-and she uttered passionate little
/ cry, and caught at the mantel with her other
| hand
"Oh, no, no." she cried. "Oh. no, no, mol
Dearest! Dearest" And she burst into tenn
pest of tears, hiding her face and shaking with
| fear of this which had swept all before it.
When she went down to dinner her mother
| looked at her anxiousIy.
You are really pale. Nell.' she said. ''You
| do not look well at ALL"
Il do not think / am we'll" she said 'Per-
haps have been going out little too much"
| She often looked pale after this-so pale that
her mothers eyes followed her continually with
| bewilderment and solicitude. And she.had lost
more than her soft color; the elasticity of her
| spirit seemed to have left her. She played ten
| mis- no more, to the great wonder of Marian and
Hester Beverly. who spent days upon their lawn,
| and with difficulty forebcre to- dine with their
| racquets under their arms and sleep with them
| under their pillows She ceased to take walks
| alone, and no longer went out sketching. Often
| when they had evening engagements she ex
| cused herself on the plea of fatigue, and re-
| manned at home. Sometimes in the morning
| she came down with an air of lassitude and with
| slight shadows about her eyes.
| MY DEAR" her mother would say you look
| as if you had not slept we'll"
The first time she said this Nell glanced at
herself quickly in mirror and family blushed.
| II did not sleep very well mamma" she
| answered.
but, my dear" said Mrs. Huntington, "this
is something new, isn't it? You used to sleep
| like baby"
II shall sleep 80 to night, perhaps" said Nell.
| But she did not often sleep so in these days,
| and so it came to pass that day Marian
| Beverly passing the hedge-with Mr.. Jack Ham
ilton, and stopping to speak to her as she gath
| cred few roses-looked at her in some aston
| ishment.
| "Nell," she exclaimed, 'do you know how pale
you arel'
ooh, don't" said Nell Aunt Maria told me
few hours ago that was as white as rag.
| She says need exercse-ten miles day."
| But suddenly she was pale no longer, warm
carnation having spread itself over her cheek.
But you always had such lovely color" per
| sisted Marian Chester and have hated you for
itever since we were old enough to speak. What
have you been doingl You are as bad as Mr.. Ham
| ilton. And-how queer!-I was just upbraiding
| him on the same score"
| Mr.. Hamilton broke in with some haste, 'Yes, !"
he said, ''she was telling me that used to have
| lovely color"
You had laughed Marian, when you came
II was like blush rose.n said Mr.. Hamilton.
| "A blush rose and now that you bave-have
rifed me, so to speak you hold me up to public
scorn and draw invidious comparisons"
But he did not smile very naturally, as helook-
| ed across the hedge at Nell.
| Perhaps" said Nell, meeting his eyes with
out smiling at all, perhaps North Brabant does
| not agree with YOU"
st doesn't" he answered with brevity $50
| am going away"
Nell dropped rose and picked it up and put it
| into her girdle.
'Does your cousin go with you9" she asked.
HE always goes with me, he replied, with a
| voice containing several suggestions ~ am not
| to be trusted alone. / should murder an infant
| or set fire to an Aged Females Home"
! When she was left alone Nell returned to the
| house with her roses. She found her mother in
| her usual seat in the bay-window and as she
came forward their eyes met though Mrs. Hunt
| ingdon did not speak
"Yes, mamma" said Nell. sit was Mr. Jack
Hamilton. but it will not occur again, for he is
| going away"
And after she had arranged her roses she went
upstairs to her room and remained there until
| luncheon.
The next day they heard that the two Hamil-
tons had gone to New York. Then Nell began
to take walks again-longer ones than ever,
Mrs. Huntingdon noticed-and sometimes she
| played tennis, but she did recover her color,
and contracted a habit of falling into sences,
from which she reused herself with slight
start when she was spoken to- Secretly Mrs.
Huntingdon began to be very unhappy-she had
never been unhappy about Nell before-she had
| never been even anxious-the girl had always
been well, and bright, and sweet in every mood.
The Hamiltons had been away about two
weeks, when morning Mrs. Maria Hunting
don arrived in state of great dignity, plainly
laboring under the effect of some deep offense
! perpetrated against herself.
| Isabel she began in her most sonorous voice.
what is this hear about the Hamiltonsa"
ut is impossible for me to say, Maria re-
piled Mrs Huntingdon, half uncousciously
| glancing at Nell, who sat near.
But it appears that this John Hamilton is
most disreputable young man, that his cousin
supports him and watches over him as if he was
a child, that he went to New York with him
simply to try to keep him out of mischief and
that with all his efforts he could not accom- plsh
| it, and only just succeeded in saving him from
frightful scandal I never was so outraged in
my life. Why. knew his father Fossdick
| Dowlas was an intimate friend of mine"
| Nell laid down her book and rose.
Mamma" she said, II think I will order the
| phaeton and go out / should like to drive
/ To .u worth and get Soma new hooks from, The