Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1888-06-15
FURNISHING A HIRT.
BY BRUCE BARNARD.

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BY BRUCE BARNARD.
The glazing hot summers sun beam
ing down with its brassy glare had COM
PEELED the city's residents to seek re-
creation in their favorite summer re-
treats
Long Branch, the favorite of many,
was not forgotten in the rush.
There was to be found all classes,
from the penniless bank clerk to the
wealthy society young man. and from
the young schoolgirl, anxious for
her first conquest, to the heartless
airt who cared for naught but crushing
the hearts of men. Among this latter
class was numbered Clara Marston.
Tall, queenly, and of exquisite car
rage, her admirers were numbered by
I the score. Where was the man who
could look into the secret depths of those
liquid eyes and not feel the attraction
of their glance? Heartless they called
her, perhaps rightly too, because, like
child with new toy, she led men on
until they failed to amuse her longer,
then cast them aside, nor thought of
them after.
Her last conquest, young Godfrey
Gordon, had left the beach disconsolate
and broken-hearted, his heart crushed
beneath the naughty tread of the heart
less siren.
The guests we're Longing about the
cool piazza Of the hotel when Give
Wexford, the new arrival, came saun-
tering leisurely up the beach.
Although conscious that he was the
cynosure of all eyes, the young man
was calmly self-possessed, needing not
their attention by so much as glance.
Clara Marston was carefully scru-
tinizing him, perhaps with the thought
in her mind that here was the oppor-
tunitv for new conquest.
AS Give Wexford came up he cast
one glance in the direction of the gay
crowd before him.
Involuntarily the blood rose to Clara
Marston's face. She felt that that
glance, momentary as it was, had
been directed toward her, and there
was something in those handsome, dark
eyes that attracted her, though she
could not tell what it was nor why.
In the DAYS that followed the two
were much together.
They drove along the shady road or
strolled along the pebbly beach appar-
emily caring for naught but each 9TH
er's company.
The other guests shook their heads
and cast glances full of meaning to-
ward him.
He will be but another victim to
swell the list of her cast-off lovers. So
soliloquized the knowing ones, who
watched the progress of Gives court
ship.
Pity was rife in the breasts of anx-
ious mammas, who considered that
it would be far better for the young
stranger to spend his time in company
with their daughters than with the
"Flirt," as they called Clara
So days passed by and weeks rolled
away to return no more.
1t was a lovely summer night, the
bright, full moon was just rising above
the horizon in the east and the rip
ping waves were washing against the
sands of the beach.
Give and Clara were walking along
the shore enjoying together the attrac-
tions of the evening. Walking thus
memory recalled to Clara's mind the
night not long gone when, walking thus,
Godfrey Gordon had declared his pas
sion for her.
Was it fate? As they came to the spot
where she and Godfrey had stood,
Give suddenly stopped. "Clara," he
began slowly, II have something to
say to you, a question to ask. Several
times I have been On the eve of speak
ing, but each time something has oc-
Cured to stop me-"
Here Give stopped for moment, as
if unable to say more, but as Clara
looked up expectantly he went on
speaking.
"The question I would ask you, Clara,
he said, taking her unresisting hand in
his, "is one that in not new one to
you. For me to say that I worship you
would be to you an oft-repeated tale.
Yet it is one that will be told till the