Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1888-10-26

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struggle against the idea-present when
ever he talks to Miss Stuart-that she
| regards him as little peasanter than
any other man. And having conquered
| this notion, he braces himself up to en-
| counter the widow. For from what he
knows of her, he is pretty sure that she
will take tho initiative.
On this occasion she is certainly in no
hurry. Blake finishes his cigar, declines
to avail himself of the billiard room, de-
clines to go to bed-both which forms
of entertainment are offered him by Van
worst, who appears at intervals; finally,
after nearly nodding his head off, becomes
unconscious for brief space. Waking
up, he finds that it is half an hour past
midnight, and that some of the people
are beginning to drive off. Still, he lights
another cigar and leans against one of
the pillars of the piazza, smoking and
waiting for Mrs. Mackenzie
Is it by accident or design that when
that siren comes innocently out on the
piazza-alone, and apparently only for
fresh air-the 'die hards" inside are
dancing wild gallop which always
makes Blake think of certain spring
night in dull little Pennsylvania town,
some three years agoP Whether it is an
accidental or intentional coincidence,
certainly Blake rs rather taken at disad-
vantage when some one says, II was
thinking of you, Mr.. Blake" and he turns
to find close beside him the face that made
that spring night memorable.
Il was thinking of you, Mr.. Blake.
Don't you remember that music? Come
let us walk down here-I want to talk to
you"
They walk to the end of the piazza and
E.. 80,
TO the music, which, sentiment apart !,
sounds better at this distance. Then sud
denly she puts her hand on his arm and
says:
what did you come here for?"
Because | was asked" says our young
man stoutly, but with his heart in his
mouth; but she goes on without seeming
to hear him.
"Why, when I am trying to change my
life-when Ihave some chance of u turn,
and some chance of making some one
happy and doing a little good-why must
it all be spoiled, and I-disgraccd? Tom,
you used to like mo a little. Please
please let me alone" Her great eyes are
pleading for her. the touch of her hand
on his arm is gentle petition
MY dear Mrs. Mackenzie how under
heaven can interfere with your What
have | donef"
"Donel You have told-or you will
tell-these people everything And that
old man really loves me-ah, dear Tom,
don't laugh-there is something good left
in me--he has asked me to marry him.
and now you will ruin me-
But what the deuce can I tell about
your cries the bewildered young man.
"See here-these people asked me if
knew you and told them just this-that
you used to be Laura Mabury; that you
used to flirt; that l had forgotten what
your marriage name was, and didn't even
know until tonight that your husband
was dead. That's all"
That my-husband was-dead," she
repeats, looking closely at him Did you
tell them thatY
They told me rather-I never knew it
till tonight. You were living at Wash
ington last time heard anything of you. -
And didn't you hear-didnt Kenneth
or any one write you about Lieut. Macken-
zie?'
Kenneth wrote-ages ago-that you
We're not-not living together"
Divorced, you ean'-with sudden
relapse into hardness of face and manner,
and in perfectly quiet, uneXcted voice.
NO, by Jove! he didn't. say that.
What" "A suspicion breaking sharply on
him; ''do you mean that Mackenzie
isn't
All the calm manner disappears, and
again her pleading eyes are dangerously
near his face, and with her strong white
handsome hands she seizes his. Tom
dear old boy-don't bctray me. No''--in a
hurried, low voice, and hooking anNiously
around 'no-ho is not dead. He struck
me-thc villain | got divorce, Oh
Tom, lie was a very bad mamie drank
and he gambled; he was everything that
is bad Why, they dismissed him from
the navy. Yes, we were divorced-but he
isn't dead. Ny God! | wish | was
Please, Tom, don't tell them. | dill not
tell Mr. Nanvoorst at first, and now
dare not. Oh, Tom, promise me---yor
used to like me, and always-yes, | did
| always l-l-lii;ed you. Don't do me such
bad turn now! For heavens sake
promise me-"
Bat he will have to know it some
time. You can't keep such Il thing
quiet"
Yes. yes-I know. But oh, Tom give
me chance! I'll tell him myself. Prom,
Use me-please promise me that you'll
say nothing about it.
The young man stands scowling,
angry WIN II!ilStll illc lpbNlllOll lit
finds himself in His mission to the
Nanvoorsts would be accomplished sue,
cessfully should he use against Mrs
Mackenzie the weapon which she herself
has put into his hands. But, apart from
her appeal for silence, every instinct in
the man protests against this betrayal OF
q confidence confidence made in him by
woman, ana that woman one whom hC
liked little once So, with only duty
and that not very clearly defined, on the
one hand, and honor, inclination, and a
very handsome woman on the other, lie is
not long in coming toa conclusion. "Why
should | imterfcrc!' he says. Make
yourself entirely eAsy-l promise"
The victorious lady thanks him with an
effusivcness which it would be sacrilegC
TO describe were description possible, aud
then they resume their walk. 1t becomes
evident that the elderly lover has disap
peared for the night, and that Mrs Mac
kenze being off duty, has no objection tc
exchanging a few refreshing condolences
with her old friend, whom she has always
found amusing though unprohtable