The Washington critic., 1888-03-31

tlOn, but she flashed him one glance
in return that answered his unspoken
question. They exchanged no further
remarks on the way home.
Lingering moment alone in the
hall before going to her room, Jean
caught the sound Of her own name.
II call it q desperate fiirtation,"
were the next words she heard, in
Miss Winthrop's voice.
She waited to hear no more, but
fled to her room, as wretched girl as
ever lived. 1t was growing late, how
ever, and she was Obliged to indulge
her miserable reflections while pack
ing her trunk. May sent her maid to
help her, but Jean declined the prof
fered assistance, feeling that the pres
ence of any one would be simply in
tolerable.
Presently, the dinner-bell rang, and,
dreading the ordeal, Jean slowly
obeyed the summons. Everybody
was there, including Mr.. Collins,
looking wretchcd enough, Jean
thought, but the sight did not soften
| her.
The evening passed of gally. In
! addition TO the house. party u number
of guests from the neighbOrhood were
| present. There was no time for
private conversation with any one,
for which Jean was not sorry. 1t was
so late when they separated that May
did not linger with her friend as she
often did, but badc her sleepy good
night with the rest.
Jean lay awake until daylight, when
she fell into heavy slumber, from
which she was soon awakened by the
dressing bell. Looking ont she saw
the rain pouring steadily from a dull,
lcaden sky.
The party separated rather early,
somewhat depressed by the weather
and the thought of leaving. Jean
was the liveliest of them all. She
parted from Mr.. Collins with a stately
goodby, managing in the general con
fusion Of lcave-taking to avoid giving
him her hand. His manner was as
cold as her own. During the trip to
New York Jean was the gayest Of the
gay.
The carriage met her at the depot
and she was soon whirled toward
home. At last, when the family
greetings were all over, Jean found
herself alone in her own room to her
unspeakable relief. She could in
dulge in the luxury of giving way to
her misery undisturbed.
Poor Jean. She had never been so
unhappy in her life. She who had
always prided herself on her honor
and fidelity, to prove false to her
dearest friend. For, blame him as
she might, she knew that she had
been in fault too. Yes, unwittingly
enough, Heaven knew, she had en-
couraged him. Mingled with her
anger at his conduct was still greater
disgust with herself.
As if this were not enough to make
her wretched, she knew now--she was
obliged TO admit it to herself-that
she cared She had wrecked her own
life in her mad folly-at least il was
nothing more-she had never meant
to be wicked.
One week passed, the dreariest in all
her gay, care-free existence. AT the
end of that time, the family were seat
ed at the breakfast table, lingering
over their coffee, when the morning
mail was brought III. Jean took the
, two letters that were handed TO her
and glanced at their superscriptions
She recognized the handwriting ot
, both. One was from May, the otheI
from Edith. She laid them by he
plate, and made pretense of finish
: ing her breakfast.
Alone in her room, she slowly brok,
the seal of each, and hesitated whicl
10 open first. II only she did not neet
} TO read Edith's letter-but it must b,
done. She opened it and looked a
e the first page, 1t was in the writer
usual style, bright and interesting
I just as she had expected. Suddenly
she stopped, her attention arrested b!
the following words;
I You 81 eaR of meet Tom at May Gillug
= hams Nv dear, you must be m 'Staken. II
IL In Washington, attending 10 some lay
, business He expected fully to come, bu
was prevented at the last moment, Nj
= brother Frank, who resembles him. wa
, there.
The letter dropped from Jean
i fingers.
What did it all mean? What wa
p this strange mistake? She could no
, understand. Perhaps Mays lette
= would explain. She seized an,
i opened il eagerly, glancing over i
p until she came to the following
words;
/ You went OF so early and in such CONT
, sion that ] didn't have an opportunity G
explaining the foolish little joke ] played .
D You ard Mr. Collins. hope you VIII fol
|, give me, thought perhaps, you might dis
- cover the mistake between you, but 1 SO
You haven't. 1t was the first of April, 20
!, remember when, Mr.. Collins arrived, and
. told you-or rather allowed you to think
- that he was Edth's fancee Tom COllins-th
one TO whom sheis .engaged-was called III
0 expectedly TO Washington but his brothe
came intended, of course, TO undeceiv
you in day or two, but you We're so col
yinced of his identity that couldn't bear t
e tell you; Besides IL was such good first'o
AVafil lnEn nWNh WaWN L. VNsttN
, feel sure you will forgive me and appreciat
IL. fanCied he rather admired you. II :,
. you need feel no compunctions about appr'
( prating him.
Jean read no further.
r She understood now, when il wa
, too late. He could not >cemprehen
her conduct, and how could she eN
| plain? When should she ever hav
y the opportunity? Nays eXplanatio
Q had come too late,
Two days later, glancing over tn
= newspaper, Jean saw, in the list @
passengers on European steamer
!, the name Prank Collins, Philadel
It phia.'
Was this the endy
Il Frequently she heard from Edith
in Germany by, this time. In one c
: her letters She spoke of her fiancee'
, brother.
q 'He is travelling everywhere sh
i wrote; but we have happened I
miss him two or three times. He ha
Il been following in the wake of a eel
e tain charming widow, of whom
| have heard great deal, though
have never met her. They say Fran
y is really captured at length.
Just one year after her last visit I
- hardwood, Jean stood in the Gran
Central depot, waiting for the train
II l.. IL. & A L. 4