The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-05-12

u6 ICLuEuCu A lOW NOICSs H not in this world-in another"
 "In previous existence, perhaps"
 "It may be so," he answered. And as he spoke she felt his eyes concen- trate themselves on hers, felt the same dreamy unconsciousness overcoming her as before.
 "Don'tw she said quickly. "Don't Why do you look at me sop"
 "I cannot tell you" he answered in strange, far-away voice. "You spoke of previous existence. I feel I am risking your just displeasure at my presumption when say that it seems to me as though-when or where I know not; in some other planet, per- haps-you had once belonged to me-"
 Her face crimsoned. She rose, with an indescribably naughty gesture of her pretty head.
 "You presume, indeed, Mir. Ken nard," she said, quietly. twill you kindly take me back to the ball. room?"
 He had risen also, and they stood facing one another. ss."rs r-..--. -.--.-..- ..
 "Forgive me-" he, said, turning rather pale. fsaa
 She did not answer, for she was angry. And yet it was a troubled, startled, unwilling anger, too.
 "Do you believe in the doctrine of reincarnation?" he asked abruptly, after short pause, during which Miss Raynor's anger became somewat modi- fled.
 "You mean" she said, without looking at him.
 "I mean," he answered, steadily, "do you believe that certain souls, spirits what you will-inhabit successive bodies, pass into other planets, meet and recognize each other in successive existences, and belong to each other for all timer"
 No one was near; tiny fountain plashed in the near distance the mu- sic sounded tar away, like music heard in dream. Gladys shivered slightly, then she raised her eyes to her com panion's.
 A faint, hardly perceptible agita- tion swept over his features.
 "Do you remember?" he said in low, intense tones, bending slightly towards her.
 She put both hands to her head with low, startled cry.
 "Ah, don't?" she faltcred in be- wildered kind of way. "I do remem- Der, vaguely, ndefnitely-but-I do not know what it is that remember" i"
 A curious smile fitted across his lips; but he only said, and his voice grew deep and shaken;
 "In this world, at least, we may be friends, may we not?"
 "Friends," she repeated dreamily. "Friends! Yes" As she spoke she held out her hand to him. His fingers closed over hers for a brief second, then he said quietly: a-1
 "Thank you. We may both need a friend"
 At this moment Miss Raynor's part ner for the next dance appeared in search of her, and with grave bow Kennard turned away. l The season went on, and they met frequently. Gladys was to be married ' in September. Bernard Campbell, her fancee, was man in good position, , and of good family. He was rather a cold, stern wooer, perhaps, but he loved his bride to- be very sincerely, ) her father approved of him very highly yand she had known him all her life. She never had asked herself . whether she loved him or not-until } lately. He was good to look at, gen. } erous and intellectual, besides being 7 wealthy and influential, and Gladys r had hitherto accepted her fate will f ingly enough. But of late curious unrest had possessed her, and it dated from the night of her compact of } friendship with Harcourt Kennard. 7 She wondered that she had never mo- , ticed before how cold, how unsympa- thetic Bernard was. But he was 90 good, SO honorable, so much all he , ought to be in every way. She ought to love him very much, she thought remorsefully. But-did shef Now, man has not touched & woman's heart very nearly when she has to sum up to herself reasons why she ought to love him, and Bernard, who was not so cold as he looked, used to watch , her anxiodsly at this time. He was } far from being demonstrative lover, } but he was human, and he could not but feel pang of disappointment at the evident distaste with which she 3 shrank now from his lightest caress, , even from the kiss of greeting and l farewell which was surely his as her 3 lover and future husband. Had she 3 ever loved him? he wondered, or had her sleeping heart only been content r and indifferent, because unawakened?
 The season had come to an end. Fashionable London was compara- B lively empty and deserted. Picadilly and Regent street were easily naviga-