The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1889-06-30


ceSted the situation. Then I no more
questioned it than question the rising
of the sun. The day came when 1 was
to go, and he had said nothing definite
to me. I, living in my FOOLS paradise,
was neither surprised nor afraid. At
last, an hour before left, he took me in
his arms, yes, Johnny, yes-he took me
in his arms and kissed my lips, and told
me that he would follow me the next
day."
"That's enough" said Addenbrooke.
in a low voice; che was brute Let us
hear no more about him"
There is no more to hear" she an
swered with bitterness; "that is the end
of my story. A week later 1 heard he
had gone abroad"
Addenbrooke put his arm about Lydia
and, drawing her head to his shoulder,
stroked her hair backward and forward
with his kind hand.
Her recital had panied him. He knew
the perfdity of his sex, but this particu-
lar offender had gone beyond all recog-
nized limits; limits which, in his own
person, Johnny had always refused to
recognize. The thought of the misery
inflicted on his proud, sensitive, passion
ate Lydia made him sick with anger and
speeches. with sympathy. He rose at
last and, buttoning up his coat, tried to
speak in tones of reassuring cheerfulness.
"By the by, Lydia, Fleming has come
back. You remember Lawrence Elem
ing? They are making quite a lion of
him on account of his new book. He's
just the sort of man to enjoy being lion
lied"
Lydia looked at him, speeches., and
he went on:
81 expect that he will be turning up at
my rooms in the course of day or two.
He left portmanteau with my landlady
before he sailed. Good night, my own
dear girl" And he held out both his
hands.
Lydia looked at him sharply and with
rising vexation.
She had found out long ago that sub
tie hints were quite thrown away upon
Johnny; but surely, surely he must
know the truth.
Either he was the most consummate
actor or the densest person living.
1t was impossible to entertain serious
ly the idea of Addenbrooke as a consum-
mate actor.
Addenbrooke had rooms in Cover
street; sitting room and q bedroom, di-
vided by folding doors. The whole
apartment had begun life as what house
agents call spacious double drawing
room. and bore yet the marks of its
former state of existence.
The mantelpiece, which now support
ed host of bottles, variously shaped
and filed, was of white marble, heavily
carved-summonedu up to the magma
tive mind visions of gilt clocks and can
dlesticks under glass shades.
The walls, hung with white watered
paper, were divided into panels by strips
of gold beading, and from the ceiling a
shrouded chandelier depended from a
twelfth cake like decoration in white
and gold plaster.
Addenbrooke had drawn his writing
table, with the lamp on it, close to the
fire, and had settled down to a long
nights work. 1t was the evening fol-
lowing Lydia's confession, and he was
too busy to get up to St. Johns Wood.
He sighed at the thought of this, then
plunged into the pile of papers, which
not only covered the table, but over
flowed into several neighboring chairs.
He had not been long at work when
the door was flung open, and a man en-
tered the room.
"Stiu in these gilded halls, JOHNNY"
said voice, which was not quite so
drawing nor so full of quiet humor as
the speaker seemed to intend.
"Fleming, by all that's wonderful"
cried Addenbrooke, rising with extended
hand.
The new conner was a large, heavily
built young man, with dark hair, and a
complexion, originally ford, burnt Grim
son by the African sun.
He was distinctly handsome, though
the lower part of the face was a trife
heavy, and there was a lack of finish
about the ears and nostrils.
"Sit down." said Addenbrooke, clear
ing chair, and resuming his own seat.
Examinations, ugh!' Fleming ficked
with his large finger at the papers on the
desk. 'If it's not your own exams, it's
other peoples, poor old JOHNNY"
Fleming had the greatest contempt for
examinations, in which, indeed, he had
conspicuously failed to distinguish him
self; the less brilliant Addenbroole hav-
ing commonplace knack of getting into
the first class, which is often the way
with your dull, Flooding fellows.
These two men had been friends, after
a fashion, since their first term at the
In those days Fleming had
been a raw, unhappy, self conscious
young man, subject to miserable, hideous
fits of shyness, and secretly ashamed of
the paternal glove shop.
Now, perhaps, he was too fond of talk
ing about the glove shop; of drawing jo-
cose comparisons between himself and
well known glover's son of Stratford-on-
Avon; and the only remaining mark of
his shyress was certain emphasis of self
Addenbrooke's affection for
him was rather a survival from earlier
days than anything else, though Johnny,
it must be owned. was uncritical, and,
like many persons, imposed a far less Sc
we're standard of conduct on his friends
than on himself.