The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1889-09-15

are DeglDnlng to drive on. Still, he lights
another cigar and leans against one Of
the pillars of the piazza, smoking and
waiting for Mrs. Mackenzie.
Is it by accident or design that when
that siren comes innocentlv out on the
piazza-alone, and apparently only fol
fresh air-the die hards" inside are
dancing wild gallop which always
makes Blake think of a certain spring
night In dull little Pennsylvania town
some three years ago? Whether it is al
accidental or intentional coincidence
certainly Blake Is rather taken at disad
vantage when some one says, Il was
thinking of you, Mr.. Blake" and he turns
to find close beside him the face that made
that spring night memorable.
II was thinking of you, Mr.. Blake
Don't you remember that music? Come
let US walk down here-I want to talk to
you
They walk to the end of the piazza, and
stand there silent for moment, listening
to the music, which, sentiment apart;
sounds better at this distance. Then sud
denly she puts her hand on his arm and
says.
What did you come here for7"
Because was asked" says our young
man stoutly. but with his heart in his
mouth; but she goes on without seeming
to hear him.
''Why, when am trying to change my
ife-when have some chance of turn,
and some chance of making some one
happy and doing little good-why must
1t all be spoiled, and I-disgracedT Tom,
you used to like me a little. Please
please let me alone" Her great eyes are
! pleading for her; the touch of her hand
| on hiG arm ia n oor,fIa 7naftftoy,
my dear Mrs. Mackenzie, how under
heaven can I interfere with you? What
have / doney'
''Donel You have told--or you will
tell-these people everythingl And that
/ old man really loves me-ah, dear Tom,
don't laugh-there is something good left
in me-he has asked me to marry him,
and now you will ruin me-"
'fBut what the deuce can / tell about
your" cries the bewildered young man.
'See here--these people asked me II
knew you, and told them just this-that
you used to be Laura Mabury; that you
used to firt; that l had forgotten what
! your marriage name was, and didn't even
know until tonight that your husband
was dead. That's ALL"
THAT my-husband was-dead," she
repeats, looking closely at him. Ibid you
| tell them that?"
| 'NThey told me rather--I never knew it
Till tonight. You were living at WASH
ington last time Iheard anything of you"
"And didn't you hear-didnt Kenneth
or any one write you about Lieut.. Macken-
zieY'
Kenneth wrote-ages ago--that you
were not-not living together"
Divorced, you mean'-with a sudden
and in perfectly quiet, unexcited voice.
WHAT suspicion breaking sharply on
him; do you mean that Mackenzie
| isn't''-
| All the calm manner disappears, and
again her pleading eyes are dangerously
near his face, and with her strong white
| handsome hands she seizes his. Tom
dear old boy-don't betray me. Nom a
hurried low voice, and looking anxiously
around-"n o-he Is not dead He struck
me-the villain! l got divorce. Oh,
Tom, he was very bad mamie drank
and he ganabled; he was everything that
is bad. Why. they dismissed him from
the navy Yes, we were divorced-but he
isn't dead My Godl wish was.
Please. Tom, don't tell them did not
tell Mr.. Vanvoorst at first, and now I
dare not Oh. Tom, promise me-you
used to like me, and always--yes, did
always l-l-hked you. Don't do me such
bad turn now! For heavens sake.
| promise me-"
but he will have to know it some
time. You can't keep such thing
quiet"
Eyes, yes--I know. But OH Tom, give
| me a chancel I'll tell him myself. Prom
ise me-please promise me that you'll
say nothing about It,"
The young man stands scowling,
angry with himself at tho position he
| finds himself in. His mission to the
| Vanvoorsts' would be accomplished sue
cessfully should he use against Mrs.
| Mackenzie the weapon which she herself
| her appeal for silence, every instinct in
| the man protests against this betrayal Of
| q confdence-a confidence made In him by
| q woman, and that woman one whom he
''liked little once" So, with only duty,
and that not very clearly defined, on the
one hand, and honor, inclination, and o
| very handsome woman on the other he is
not long in coming to conclusion. s'Why
| should I interfcre?" he says. st'Make
| yourself entirely easy--I promise"
| The victorious lady thanks him with an
| effusiveness which it would be sacrilege
| to describe were description possible, and
! then they resume their walk. 1t becomes
| evident that the elderly lover has disap-
| peared for the night. and that Mrs. Mac
kenzie. being off duty, has no objection to
exchanging q few refreshing condolences
with her old friend, whom she has always
found amusing, though Improbable.
She drops tragedy and assumes the old,
sweetly confidential manner.
''And what has MIR. Blake been doing
with himself all these yearsT
MIR. Blake has been doing great
many things, and all very bad"
Eyes, poor boy; goodness wasn't much
in your line when I used to know you,
and one don't improve with age--does
one2"
''You certainly have not deteriorated'
with bold, steady look down into her
eyes, which meet his half way. Then
that glance passes-that indescribable
challenge which resembles the flourish
| with which two fencers salute each other
as they measure the foils He forgets
everything but the face beside him; and
| for the next half hour they talk that nom
sense which seems so clever at the mo-
ment and so silly next day. But the last
carriage rolls off down the drive, and Mrs.
Mackenzie develops regard for the pro-
| prieties which Blake was not familiar
with In Laura Mabury, and leaves
him with NEST gracious Good
night" and '1ong, lingering" pres.
/ Q1lfa IF bar ef,sOy,n ruhita bond Tho