The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-01-02
GUILDEROY
MOUIDRI X
Author of ''Under Two Flags Two Lit
tie Wooden Shoes "Chandos,"
"Don Gesualdo,' Etc.
CHAPTER XXXII.
IlOw first published. All rights reserred.I

and Guilderoy went 20 Paris for week /;
AT the end of the week their first circle OF
guests would arrive; at the end of the
second week there were to come to them
some royal personages, and with them the
Duchess Soria.
Gladys had five days of quiet and rural
solitude before her. She spent them
almost entirely with her father. When
the great house was filed, the life in it
was more tedious 10 her even than
London; her time still less her own, her
patience and courtesy still more severely
taxed. Whatever socie " might be to
others, TO her it seemeda treadmill never
resting, a camisole de force never laid
aside, formula necessarily upon the lips.
4 conventional imposture never aban-
doned Tor a moment She was a child
still at heart, and all its ceremonies and
etiquette and precedence were to her as
the weight OF her jewels and the length of
her train has been to her at her first day
at court. Oh, for one cri du ceur in the
midst OF all those polished murmurs OF
compliment and calumny, and dissimula-
ton, and veiled indecencies, and masked
lnnuendo!-so she thought a hundred
times week in it.
Older women. women either colder in
their affections or warmer in their pas
slons, could find interest and excitement
IN Its intrigues, and its conflicting and
contrasting interests; they could move in
It as in a labyrinth of which they had
the silken clew they could play in it like
movers Of pawnS and knights at chess.
lat 10 - ,uA Il 1s-f-.
and compensation. There was sOmethI>2
IN her OF her father distaste for the hurry,
the excitati' 4, the falsitv, the intrigue,
and the Incidents, trivial and serious,
which make up the interest OF modern So
ciety; they had no power to attract and
absorb her.
In these few days preceding the arrival
Of her husband and her guests she was
soothed and strengthened bv the quiet
country atmosphere, in that homeliness
and tranquility which had been about
her from the cradle. When she was with
her father self-slcrifice and fortitude
seemed still possible In the feverishness
of the world she lost her hold on them.
He tried TO make her see that there was
nothing new IN what she suffered from;
nothing more than was usual and inevita-
bic. He tried to imbue her with that toll
Grafton and indulgence which it is the
hardest OF all trials to attain IN youth. He
could add little that was new 70 what be
had said when she had before consulted
him; but that little he strove to put be-
fore her with sympathy and pity, though
its philosophic reasoning seemed very
cold 10 her
To the imagination which pictures and
the heart which Graves. richer, fuller.
more complete joys than human passion
and human possessions can ever bestow,
the assurance that such perfection is but
dream, and that the passions can only be
the flower OF q day, appears dreary creed
which laws the whole world barren.
MY dear child, said Vernon. "you
have only found what most women who
know much about men do ind-that the
man they love is seldom either 1cbWes
or Hector, Sydney or -H0rlrgs. either
heroic or idealic, but is generally rather
like a sick and fractions child who cries
for what he cannot get and beats the
hand which tries to soothe him.
She smiled but sadly.
MY dear l only speak thus OF my own
sex in their passions" he continued.
There are other things IN life besides its
passions, though | admit that there are
none which color it sodeeply, or so infuse
into il, irrevOcably, bitterness or sweetness.
other things that you should End your
allies. Guilderoy is man whose whole
life should not be squandered in falling in
love and falling out OF love. He has posi-
stiOn, opportunity, talent he should have
rs time goes on some other aim than
breaking the hearts of women, whether
your heart or those OF others 1t is with
that side Of his life that your alliance,
your efforts. your interests should be.
Cannot you see that?'
81 cannot see what does not exist" said
Gladys coldly. HE has no other object
IN life than his own pleasure. He SAYS it
j. the only wise philosophy. 1 suppose it
Is, when YOU are rich enough TO carry it
out"
''It is the Epicurean but what ioy will
there be in that without youth? He for
gets be makes no provision for age"
She was silent; age to her seemed so far
of that il was without shape or meaning
in her eyes; her whole soul was cOncen-
trated in her present.
Her father looked at her. There were
regret, anxiety, disquietude in the regard.
'Gladys," he said abruptly, "he told me
once that he thought you were cold. You
are not so. Far from it. How have you
given such an idea of you to man who is
your husbandT'
SQe pulitu some uttl6 UIduCues OF the
sweetbrier hedge to her nervously. She
did not reply.
"How?" repeated her father You must
have failed to respond to him in some
way2 You must have disappointed him
at some timer You must have shut your
heart away from his gaze? VIII you not
answer me?"
Her head was turned from him and her
voice trembled as she replied: Il so soon
saw that he cared so little"
Everything seemed to her to be told in
that.
"Are you sure that was not your fancy?"
Quite sure.
"Eyen when you spoke to me that first
dag after your return four years ago? You
remember"
Yes; even then"
she sighed inpetuously.
Even then," she repeated. "He had
paid a great price for me and he regretted
The price-just as he does again and again
when he bids for a picture at Christie's,
or the hotel Drouot, and il falls TO him.
The picture has never been painted which
could satisfy him when he gets it home"
Vernon echoed her sigh. it seemed 10
him hopeless to change state of feeling
built on caprice and on Indifference; on a
temperament as shifting as the sands, and
2 IL