Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1889-04-07

ceal it. In those words and that manner
he had revealed to me that which l came
to discover, unless, indeed, he was more
c0nsummate actor than / thought him.
His search, too, had been Ruthless; he
did not know, any more than l, where
Viviane Clare had gone
ION the contrary, came to hear from
her." said.
He looked at me scrutinizingly, but he
did not ask me any questions, as seemed
natural. He resumed his polite air and said:
Unfortunately, 1 can give you no in
formation"
SIN that case, I will not intrude
longer" l responded. rising.
At the door he said, with peculiar
laugh:
''We do not learn much, do we, Mr.
Perrom?"
at appears so,n replied, and went
down the steps. l no longer wondered that
Miss Clare had ltfG her uncle's house.
One, day, about six months after my re-
turn, | was standing by the window in
bookstore on Washington street. turned
the leaves of a book, but 1 was
looking cut On the street Suddenly l
drew back, for Mr.. Clare was passing,
and on his arm leaned Gilroy-emscisted
haggard, but still graceful, striking as
ever. He walked slowly and evidently
with some difficulty. I shivered; it SEEM
ed to me that felt cold wind like that
which the legend tells announces the Gem
ing Of the dreadful Luminous Shadow. l
went back to my lodgings in an unnstu-
rally depressed mood Not once since
Miss Glare had gone had felt more mis-
erably desponding. l attributed it in part
to the temperature. 1t was day in toe
latter part of August-almost at sunset.
A white film was over the sky, the Gun
was a red ball that hung like an evil eye
il the horizon.
I did not take the horse carl preferred
walking over the bridge, for hoped to get
breath Of salt sea air. had lived few
weeks in OharlestOwn, in a quiet street,
whence I could see the mouth of Mystic
river and glimpse of the bay. Preached
the door of my lodgings, lOitered there a
moment, then sauntered on. l thought
it would be more hot and etiled in my
room than it was under the sky.
walked slowly to the end of the street,
down to the water There was not the
faintest scent of sadness in the air-nO
more than if l had stood by the shores Of
an inland lake. TWAS dead calm. The
water lay almost black. tinged with q
faint dark purple, the gift Of the sun,
which had inst disappeared. 1 listened for
the ripple of the sea among the stones. 1t
was low tide heard nothing; the ripples
were asleep, or perhaps dead.
A few Irish children SAT- flat on the
aand, with their feet in the water. They
did not talk loudly; the atmosphere wac
such as subdued even their garrulity. Far
off, low dcwn in the northern sky, there
were flashes of pale Lightning, bat there
was no thunder. Itwas silence that reign
ed Dow-more awful, more oppressive than
the crashes OF tempest.
II seemed to me that bTeathed with
difficulty; tie pulses of my heart were
weakened; this great, broodipg stiffness
was suff0cating. l stretched ont my hands
toward the silent sea. implored 1t for
one bresth of It's sadness. 1t gave me
nothing save q sense of infinite weariness-
almost of stsguati0n.
Unable to endure this longer, turned
and walked back. l had reached the
house next to the one where l lived, seps-
ratad from it by little garden. As l
passed slowly along inhaled the perfume
Of helitrope Quickly, with memory scute
and painful, l glanced at the window YVES
passing. 1t was open, and on its ledge
stood a pos Of heliOtrops. My heart no
longer beat languidly-it bounded. At
that moment l thought l recognized the
plant. It was larger, it had grown, but it
appeared familiar 10 me-
Had I reasoned upon that belief should
have laughed at myself, but did not rea-
son; felt inspired.
l mounted the steps of that house and
rang the bell, and with the fragrance still
floating about me asked if Miss Glare
was in %
I knew that I had but to apologize if
she was not there.
The servant did not hesitate. She re-
Piled
door. and saying, miss Glare, a gentle
man to see you" she closed the door and
left ne alone with a lady who sat near
where l stood.
That lady was Vivisne Clare.
Her face was paler, her eyes were larger,
her hands were thinner. 1 saw that while
the servant announced me; l saw it with
pang of sorrow for her suffering.
! watched the expressions chase each
other over her facet surprise that any
one should come to see her-of frightened
inouiry-of relief unutteTable.
The hand took was cold, but not colder
than mine Though I watched her so close
" II did not seem to me that was so pos
sessed in the least. 1t was all could do to
bring my rebelling frame into subsection.
looked into her eyes. How famisbed,
starved l had been for the glances of those
eyes How had l lived when l could not
see them? I wondered at that
more than ever, now that l saw them
again.
she might feel about Gilroy. l said:
'Mr. Gilroy is nearly we'll"
eyes, know it, with sigh Of thank
fulness.
"How long have you been here?" 1
asked.
Ever since I came from R, >" mention
ing the place where we had stopped.
'YOu came directly TO Boston," L in
ouired incredulously.
Eyes; directly" A mOmentaIy silence.
"Will you sit down, Mr.. PerrOm?'
We had been standing, our hands joined |
as we had met.
"But the man at the R. station said that
no lady took passage that day for Boston"
l said.
81 believe he did not see me. 1 was
barely in time, and didn't 90 into the de-
pot; l paid my passage in the cars"
she looked at me inquiringly.
because, Miss Clare, went to Mon
treaI and searched month there for you.
7 had reason to believe that you bad gone
that way" i
She flashed a glance at me, then lowered
ba~ evpg