Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1888-05-03
VAIE1 R1EI
OR
HALF p TRUTH.
"BY THE DUCHESS, ~

seize now descend
Yes"
Fanchon was little, and Valerie was tall
| so the girl leaned on the maids shoulder
and they went down to the drawing-room;
! but as they were halfway down stairs the
door of the bilIiard-room (Which was near
! the drawing-roOm) opened, and Colonel
Beauregard appeared.
| ''Allow me-" he said, springing up to
Yalerie's side and taking her from Fanch-
on. ''Why, Valerie, you are getting On
| famously! was Just coming to see if you
| were in the drawing-room, and would care
to finish our game"
q should like to very MUCH" the girl
answered.
''Honor bright?"
! ''Honor bright
"Shall [ wheel the couch near the win
| dow?" said Max, when he had placed his
| young charge on il, and carefully and skill
+. fully arranged the cushions behind her
please"
| So the couch was wheeled near the open
window, and the table brought, and the
not failed to notice that something had
greatly upset Valerie. She had learned to
wear her mask well; but Max had very
|
brightens even dull perceptions.
81 hope" he said, q am not imposing on
YOUR good-nature. You must not let me
do that, Valerie"
''You are not, indeed. ] should have to
do something, you know; besides, want
to finish this game"
But there would be Other opportuni-
| ties
''There might not be-"
| Max drew in his breath silently.
| You must leave on Saturday, then?" he
said, after Il pause.
It was folly to prolong his pain, and yet
the words fell from his lips, as it were, IN
hidden.
| Eyes" said Valerie, quietly, looking at
the board as if studying the positions. eve
have to 90 on to Lord Morton's."
| 'And how long do you stay there"
Till Thursday; then the Collingwood's
until the following Friday"
1t was Beauregard's move. He made it
in silence and at random. Valerie was
| thinking how differently would next Sat
| urday evening be passed by her than any
thing her companion supposed. There
was to be q ball, too, on the Monday even
| ing, and a new ball-dress had been ordered
| from London, but Valerie would not wear
it. She did not feel now as if she should
| ever wish to wear ball-dreSs again.
| And after the CollingWoods?" asked
Beauregard presently.
| ''Oh," she answered, carelessly, 81 don't
| know what aunt Constance's plans are"
Max glanced at her keenly, and thought
| of Aston Lawford's letter. Valerie had
read twas debating whether she should
| accept the offer it made, or maybe intend
| ed to accept it. 1t was this that troubled
| her-this that made her ignorant Of the
| future beyond week or two; or if not ig-
| norant, reticent. The soldier set his teeth.
| She made of marriage a mere game of
! shuttlecock, let love say what it would.
| If he-Max Beauregard-wou not low
er his colors to her. she would not wear
| the willow. Why should she?
The game went on, Max gaining surely
| on his opponent, till by-and-by she glanced
up.
mo use going on" she said. 81 may as
well resign. The game is yours"
''I think it is" But he said it coldly
! Valerie looked at him again, covertly this
time, and with a sudden, impetuous move
ment, swept up the game. There was no
need for that" said Beauregard coolly,
''since you had resigned"
Valerie leaned back on her cushions, a
! little ashamed of her outbreak, but the fact
was her whole mental atmosphere was
charged with electricity; her nerves were
| gt tension that would not bear much
| more straining.
Beauregard put the chessmen in their
| box and rose.
II am sorry I asked you to play" he said,
in changed, softened manner. 81 don't
think you were in the mood. Can / fetch
any book for you?"
mo, thanks. l was as much in the mood
for chess as for anything else. I am not
| good company for anyone just now" she
| added, a little confusedly, feeling that
some explanation was required, but assur-
edly not making it very happily.
''You shall not be troubled with mine,
then, Valerie; but l don't think you have
much chance of solitude here, if that is
what you wish"
Il didn't mean to be so rude asI seemed,
Colonel Beauregard," said the poor child,
biting her lip hard. 81 know I can't be
alone and 1 don't wis., to be either. Ihave
been worried, that's ALL
II know it, Valerie" said Beauregard,
| in q low voice; land / think l know-I
| wish"
| He stopped. and turned away abruptly,
BRUSHING back the words on his tongue.
He must not say them, he had no right to
say them-and how could he trust himself?
Il wish you would be true to your better
nature; cast off the dross, and let the pure
| gold come to the surface"
| No; if he spoke like this how much more
! might he not say? And he could not coun-
sci Valerie as a friend, for it was not as a
friend he loved her; not as a friend she re-
| garded him.
The girl half OWNED the unuttered
words, and held her breath, trembling in
wardly as she watched Beauregard cross
| the room.
He turned back in a minute or two, and
paused by the couch, looking down on the
| girl. Her head was dropping; she dared
not raise her eyes to his.
81 have no power to help you," he said,
after moments silence, and his voice
shook; lit is too late for that. And per-
haps 1 may be wronging you, but if not
-
Steps sounded without Beauregard bent
down and laid his hand on the bowed gold
| en- head:
''Oh, Valerier'-what passionate pain
| there was in his voice-''you cannot blot
out the past. but you might live nobler
| life in the futurer'
| He went out through the window on to
the terrace as Angela opened the door and
ran into the room.
"Whatr' she exclaimed You alone,
| Valerie! l thought Max was here"
He has just gone out" said Valerie,
| {orcing the words from her parched lips.
| He is on the terrace think"