The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1886-07-04

written down Capt. Allison's Christian
name.
He turned round very sharply--I had
pulled q low chair mp beside him to the
window and scanned my face. lie kept his
eyes fastened upon me for at least a minute.
During the whole OF that time smiled with
perfect placidity. Then suddenly his fea.
lures contracted in kind Of spasm. had
never seen him so violently moved before.
"Do you mean 10 say" he muttered be-
tween his teeth, "that you don't carei"
was so glad, so thankful, that had sue.
ceeded that hardly knew what did or
spoke. hope may be forgiven for my du-
plicity. looked at him as II In surprise for
moment longer, then broke into q hastily
suppressed little laugh.
"Oliver--I caref You must have heard
often, before you ever saw me-that cannot
care. Since then thought You ought to
have found this ont. You are not going to
reproach me, are you 7"
lie had grown perfectly white. His vanity
had never been so deeply wounded.
AFTER this" he said, III shall never again
believe In any woman"
"oliver," cried I, quickly, "did You really
care 80 very much Oh, am sorry; what
can I do ~
sort Of grimness this time.
NO." he replied. lyon have no reason to
distress yourself. did not care. little
anticipated, however, having TO speak so
plainly. must say that you have bitterly
disappointed me, Beatrice. You have de
stroyed the last ray Of my faith In woman
kind. II is one thing for me to behave as
have done In a manner such ~ this, entirely
another thing for you, woman"
III hope" retorted I, still smiling, but
very quickly, for felt that unless matters
soon came to close might betray myself,
"that the woman you are about 10 marry
understands the full honor you are doing
her. Like me, she may be ignorant Of the
different standards Of action considered hon.
Orable for men and women"
"She understands perfectly we'll, "he said,
anpriiy. .
my hand 10 him. at would be decidedly
awkward mistake. you know, II she were
only 10 find II out afterwards. Oh, assure
you there are great many women capable
Of suffering very aoutsly. Now, II there
was one thing you always did Object to Il
was TO witness any kind Of suffering, know.
Don't hazard having to be witness Of your
wifs's. Good bye"
Just as abe wrote the last word there
was the distinct sound of wheels hur-
rying along down somewhere among the
trees. She listened for moment, her ex-
preston swiftly changing. Suddenly abe
began 10 write again with great rapidity.
shall not have time 10 read this over.
am afraid have little time left for consid-
GRAFTON. But, after all, what good would
II have done mef In what way did pro
pose To consider this that have written
All, know myself. It, is only another
record for this room TO note. should II have
the power of doing so. Well, this ia the
last hour wasted now. have perfectly
made mp my mind. hope that have still
the strength left to do that. My life shall
be ruined no longer for a hopeless chimera.
Hopelessf It always was 20. He never
loved me. That was the hardest part to re-
alize of all. Harder do think or, at all
events, as hard-as to find out his utter
worihlessness.
He never loved mel In the very middle
of that time in London--I discovered It long
afterwards he had openly discussed me-
my personal appearance, character, every
thing-in smoking room. No man, ever
so little in love, would have done such
thing. II Is therefore quite clear that l
am facing the truth; he never loved me.
repeat that know myself. It was only an
excuse for spending one last hour in going
| over the old folly, this scheme of writing II
all out in order 10 ba able To form better judg
ment upon it all. Aud yet II is quite true that
the practice has often aided me. But what
kind Of judgment did I expect to form
Does not woman ever act more by in.
stinct than by Judgment or reason
Wait. Did not say something about the
recollt otion OF strong moment In my past
life at some time strengthening me- II shall
begin by doing 40 now
Very abruptly she once more ceased writ
ing, replaced her pen, and, moving calmly
over TO the mantlepiece, lighted candle.
She folded all the sheets of writing paper
which she had ussd-they made large pile
into long envelope. She then held this
steadily, ds'erminedly, in the flame Of the
candle. Soon there was nothing left but q
iuttering heap Of black ashes. She then
went slowly ont of the long room, turning
with rather wisifnl expression at the door
to look back, as though this were the last
time, In sOmr way, that she was to see II just
exactly as she saw II now. few minutes
later she opened the DIOR of u drawing. room.
IA she entered a man started from the
mantlspieca, against which hs had been
resting his face. II was q very honest,
frank face, with nothing particularly hand
soms about 1t, yet singularly attractivs-
ths face OF man approaching his fnrtisth
year. just now, perhaps, it might have
been interesting as stndy, on account of its
deadly pallor.
He stood upright, his lips moving In some
sort of greeting. She bowed, and, crossing
the room. stood beside him.
"May inquire WHETHER you have thought
over what said to yOn last night % she
asked, in a low tone.
The man nodded impstisntly.
"That | am GOLD, hsartlsss, utterly power
less to promise yon any thing hut ths insrsst
regard You have understood all thatf"
"Yss," answered the man.
Shs took ons look at the sunshine, and
then turning her head again spoke quite
calmly.
"rhsn," she said, with q sort of little
step backwards, "thsIs only remains for mo
to say, Sir Eiward, that / consent to become
your wife,"
With stidsd CRY the man claspsd her 10
his arms raptnrously.
After all, she misjudged herself. She
was neither cold nor inssnsibls. That love-
clasp had Enclosed the wsll-spring Of her
heart, and she knew that for the hrst time
in her life she loved truly, fsrvsntly, aud
forever.-7he Argosy.
900